Chapter 8

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A.N.- Muahahahaaaaa I had fun writing last chapter.  I'm beginning to think I enjoy torturing readers... does that make me a real author? 

Small video above for ambiance if you want it.

Also this story will move along I swear...I just love writing scenes...

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The storm slowly died down.   Dark shadows slunk past.  Lanterns dimmed.  The town watchmen yawning idly as they leaned on their halberds.  Black armored men barely made a sound, blending in with the dark allies. The cats stopped their yowling to retreat into the crevices.  Hissing wildly.

Hoods crumpling under the weight of the damp barely showed a face among them.  Each walked with light steps in unison.  The moment close at hand.  Pale light of a tavern stood as a beacon in the sleepy town.  A tall man held out his hand halting the others.  

Lifting a strange talisman, it hovered but a moment and quivered.  Deep sunken eyes narrowed. They were here.

Silently they enclosed on their target. 


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Rain had slowed to a soft patter.  The loud tavern had just as slowly emptied. 

Eskel could hear the snores of another patron down the hall. A mouse skittered by the kitchen unaware of the tom cat but a few paces behind.  Pale moonbeams flickered through the cracks in the curtains. Cass was most certainly still awake. Her heartbeat was rapid but even.  Although they were both loving the mattresses compared to the dirt on the trail, each had thoughts swirling.

"Psssst. Eskel are you still awake?" Cass rolled over causing the wooden bed to lightly creak.

"I am now," he lied. Eskel had barely been able to sleep for the last few hours.  He'd been slipping in and out of bizarre dreams.

"Eskel, about earlier, do you really think I'd be a bad witcher?"

In the dark he could see she was leaning on her arm. Her hair pulled messily back. A slightly hurt expression played across her delicate features.

"I never said that."

"You never said I'd be ok at it though."

"Being a witcher isn't something you want.  Its- nevermind."

"No, please, go on." She shifted again now sitting up.  "You witchers never share anything."

Eskel sighed. Rolling over to dislodge a surly piece of straw he continued. "Let's just say it's not for everyone."

"If it's fighting all the monsters, then I think I'd get use to it," Cass replied decisively.  Even the swamps aren't too hard to get used to."

"Witchers, being a witcher, is not something you chose. We aren't just trained, we are changed. In Kaer Morhen witchers had to endure what were called the trials. There were many."

"Like rights of passage?"

 Eskel tensed. Talking about the trials was not something any witcher enjoyed.

"More like torture.  Barely thirty percent of recruits made it through the trials. Some trials involved monsters, and the worst by far were the alchemical treatments. And those lucky enough to make it past all that hardly survive the first year out on the path."  

He could see her pull away wincing. Her discomfort evident even in the moonlight.

Eskel cleared his throat. "But, that's not to say everyone died.  Whether by destiny or sheer-dumb-luck there are still witchers."

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