To Heal A Lonely Heart

Witcher Wanted

The next morning we left the inn and continued our way further north. Just out of town, we left the road, searching in the thicket for any kind of creature, but to no avail. Days passed like that, looking out for threats, and nights in which we relished in the memories of a time before we settled down. Not that we regretted that decision, but we were free back then, just the two of us in the vast wilderness of the Continent.

A week passed till we came to the next town, posters lining the road on both sides. Halting our horses, Geralt jumped off and walked over to one parchment, ripping it off the pole.

"Finally," he muttered, stomping back over to Roach, mounting her again, and handed me the poster.

Witcher wanted. 2500 crowns reward. It read.

"They don't say what it is?" I frowned, flipping the parchment over, hoping to find more information of the back – nothing. "I don't like that."

"Yeah, me neither," my husband muttered as he spurred his mare, making me do the same as we rode into town.

The people cleared the way for us, jumping from the mainroad to squeeze into the small wooden stalls lining the path. They stared at us, in both fear and awe, two hooded, armed figures. A man came running towards us, halting just before our horses' hooves when he gripped the reins tightly to bring them to a stop.

"Witcher!" the man shouted, waving his arms through the air, "Thank the Gods you're here!"

"Yeah, yeah," Geralt muttered, tossing the man the crumpled piece of parchment, "This yours?"

"Yes, yes, please, Witcher, please follow me," the man rambled as Geralt and I both dismounted our horses, "You and your – ah..."

"I'm his wife," I smiled at the man with an annoyed edge to my voice. I was used to people assuming I was Geralt's whore, but that didn't mean it didn't piss me off every single time. So I tended to correct them before they could take that word in their mouth.

"Very well. Please, please come."

Waving his arms around in various gestures all meaning 'follow me', he led us to the town hall. First, he showed us the stables, ensuring us that Roach and Shadow would be taken good care of, before he brought us to a – compared to the rest of the small town – luxurious office.

"Please, sit, Witcher. And, my lady," he said, taking his own seat behind the massive oak desk. Nodding a thanks, I lowered myself to the cushioned chair, sighing quietly at the comfort of sitting on something else than a saddle for the first time this week. Geralt, on the other hand, remained standing.

"What is this all about?" he demanded with a frown.

Fidgeting with his hands, the alderman shot me a helpless look, then faced Geralt again, sighing. "We don't know exactly what we're dealing with. The... thing... it digs up our cemetery, one grave after the other. All we find is shards of bones and broken coffins," the old man explains hesitantly, turning white as a sheet as something flashed through his eyes – horror. He gaped for a moment, trying to find words to continue, but for a while, the room was dead silent, apart from the quiet creaking of the chair when Geralt finally lowered himself.

"A group of four brave men volunteered to find out what it was, but none of them returned. It must have gotten them, too," the alderman finally speaks. In his eyes, I could see the scene where they found traces of a fight: giant footprints and more than one pool of blood, swords and shards of broken bones.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, "About your son."

"How did y-" he asked, eyes wide from shock now.

"You were thinking about him," I shrugged, my voice gentle, "I'm sure he did not have to suffer for long."