Author's Notes
If you have read one of my previous work A Night in Novigrad I mentioned a small tale of how Vesemir and Triss knew each other from before. I was requested by someone to actually write out the story, so here it is(well, here's the first chapter)! I thank this individual for the great idea. So here it goes! I hope you enjoy the first chapter and I would love to consider any suggestions, constructive criticism or ideas for a different story. I also apologize for not writing anything for the past month, my mind went blank for a while.
The setting sun in Maribor did not stop the young children from running and screaming wild in a game that only they understood. If and elder were to observe them play, they would be utterly clueless as to what were the strict rules that the children put together. This complex game was so engaging to the children that they failed to take note of the man lingering in the alleys, observing the children with ravenous eyes. His human appearance altered due to his hunger. The "man" hadn't eaten in days. He tried to focus as his form changed. He didn't want this, but he couldn't help himself when his arms elongated and were covered in dark fur. He could feel his eyes shift and the sensitivity of his senses. The sweet scent of the children was so…delicious.
Two young girls, no older than 8 years of age, ran towards the alley, giggling and hiding from whatever the objective of the game. As they turned to the alley they stopped to catch their breath. The girl was bright red hair peeked from the alley.
"Do you think they can find us here?" giggled the other girl.
"No. Collin doesn't know right from left. Even if he catches the others, it'll take him forever to find us."
The two girls doubled over laughing when the boy, Collin, ran right past another boy who was hiding in plain sight.
One of the girls went walking down the alley, motioning for the red haired one to follow, "I'm tired of this game. Want to go home? Gran made her special cake!"
The red haired girl nodded enthusiastically. "Is it the chocolate one?" She preceded to walk at a fast pace, trying to catch up to her friend when she was cut off by the boy, Collin, who found them in the alley.
"Ha! I found you both."
The girl with the red hair turned to face him. "Collin, we are tired of this game. We want to go home, and it's late."
"But I found you. Now you are the monster."
"But I don't want to…" she was cut off by a scream. Collin's eyes widened in horror. A huge creature had quickly scaled over the city walls and took the girl with him, leaving a trail of blood.
Vesemir rode past the city gates of Maribor, late at night. It has been a long week. He had hunted down a wraith and a leshen. All he wanted was to go to the nearest inn and rest for a few days, and maybe get his swords sharpened.
When he entered the inn, all eyes turned towards him. The sight of a Witcher always brought fear and caution. Tales and rumors spread about the incident in Blavikin. Geralt had not come to Kaer Morhen the past winter. Vesemir had suspected it was to refrain from hearing what is fellow witchers had to say, and what Vesemir would say. But as of now, they have only heard rumors, not what really happened from Geralt's perspective.
A group of men stared into his direction with daring eyes, eyes of contempt.
Vesemir approached the inn keeper, who wasn't at the slightest at awe nor fear by the presence of the Witcher.
"Now what brings a Witcher to my Inn, looking for work?"
"No. I am here to rent a room."
"I have one," the man said as he gave Vesemir a key to the room, "Damn shame you aren't here for work. Just the other day Lord Darnley's daughter went missing, left a trail of blood in one of the alleys."
"Monster's rarely dwell inside city walls, especially one such as Maribor. You could have a human killer on the prowl."
"True. But it shan't hurt to take a look and see if it really is a man or monster. But are they not the same? The most twisted and sick man could be the worst of monsters."
Vesemir was quiet, attempting to make his point with silence.
The inn keep sighed, "Enjoy your stay, we have decent food and drink. But Master Witcher, the Lord is a good man, very generous and humble, he does not deserve for this to happen to his family. And the girl, she was only eight years of age."
"Alright, I'll look into it. But if it turns out not to be a monster, I'll inform the city guards and leave."
"That's all I ask."
"I'll look into it in the morning."
Geralt's last resort for a place to rest was on a bedroll by a small lake he had come across. He hated not sleeping in a warm and comfortable bed. He felt exposed and was awoken by the slightest of sounds, for his senses were very sensitive when out in the open. The villagers were not pleased at the sight of a Witcher. The inn keep refused him service and then, as if that was not enough, he set his hounds on him. Though Geralt did not make matters any better. He slaughtered the hounds instead of running then threw one of the heads at the inn keep. If Geralt ever displayed emotions, he would have laughed at how the man squirmed.
Geralt was about to fall asleep, when he heard it for the second time again. It was a faint and distant sound like the tearing of flesh. At first, he dismissed it as a wolf or some other carnivorous animal. But this time, his intuition said otherwise. Geralt, quietly and carefully, gathered his belongings and tied them onto Roach's saddle.
He held the hilt of his blade, ready to unsheathe at any given instance. He tread silently through the thick fog, making it difficult to see even with his heightened sight. Following the sound of tearing flesh and the growling of the creature, he took note of its proximity, closing his eyes for a mere second to place the exact location of the sound. Opening his eyes, he snapped to the left. He could only make out the shape of the creature, so he stepped closer for a good look. The creature would have towered over him, with thick dark fur soaked in blood and claws that can shred a human to pieces.
A werewolf.
Geralt reached for a silver bomb from his belt. He hurled it at the creature then raged Igni. The creature howled, sending flocks of crows into flight. Unsheathing his silver blade, Geralt readied his stance.
The creature clawed at his head with significant speed and strength that could have caught any Witcher off guard. Geralt dodged with haste, slashing his blade at the creature's midsection, colliding blade and flesh, and pushed the creature back with the force of Aard. He was about to strike the final blow when the beast flung all of its weight and strength, sending Geralt colliding into the tree behind him, losing his grip on the blade. He winced as he arose, only to side-step in time as the beast grazed his armor at his lower abdomen. With a quick glance to the right, Geralt lunged for his sword, steering away from yet another fatal blow, and rolled into a kneeling position, blade at hand. He closed his eyes, focusing on his sense of hearing. Heartbeat racing, adrenaline rushing through his body, his lower abdomen ached as he stood and spun, the silver blade penetrating the werewolf as it charged, slashing through its upper thigh to its opposite shoulder. He sheathed his sword.
Geralt turned his attention towards the body. The child's dead eyes reflected horror. The chest torn apart, revealing a missing heart. The little girl was no older than eight years of age.
Geralt pulled out a sharp dagger strapped to his leg, turning towards the werewolf ready to take its head as a trophy. Where the werewolf was supposed to be, was a small pool of blood.
Mistake. Should have checked to see if it was dead.
Geralt headed back to where he left Roach. Decided not to hunt down the werewolf unless he found a contract on its head. He spurred Roach into a gallop, heading towards the city gates of Maribor.