"Hè mo leannan
Hò mo leannan,
'si mo leannan an tè ùr
Hè mo leannan
Hò mo leannan,
'si mo leannan, Nighean Mhairi,
Falt na dearg is sùilean gorm!"
The light-hearted song, an old Skelligan love ditty, drifted through the trees, bouncing from trunk to trunk with lively exuberance. Under the sun-dappled branches, a lone figure sang the tune cheerfully, her boots marching a brisk pace on the rarely-travelled roadway. Thick but flexible leather armour adorned this figure, betraying her nature as anything but a simple traveller. Should that not have been enough of a clue to any onlookers, then the twin sword hilts visible over her left shoulder and the crossbow dangling from her belt soon betrayed her true nature- a huntress and a warrior. The shining silver medallion at her breast, a snarling Cat's head, revealed more about her, that she was a Witcheress, a member of the nigh-legendary guild of monster hunters. For those who would have known this, it was easy to understand the confidence with which she walked alone through the forest.
This Witcher, crowned with a cascade of long, fire-red hair and sporting a cheerful, bright-eyed smile uncommon among her peers in the guild, was far from her home, the ancient Witcher Keep of Kaer Marter. A student of the Path for some years now, she'd completed her training in the ways of the Witcher under the watchful eyes of older Masters, as well as the stern Grandmaster Treysse. Now, she roamed wherever she pleased, practising the trade that fate had chosen for her.
She continued down the trail, singing her merry tune.
"Hè mo leannan
Hò mo leannan,
'si mo leannan an-"
The cry reached her ears, faint at first, but growing in strength. A voice, screaming in terror and desperation. The Witcheress froze, feral yellow eyes glancing around cautiously. A gloved hand reached for the hilt of her steel sword.
It took only a few moments to spot the man, racing through the trees at full tilt, heedless of obstacles in his way. Branches and shrubs whipped at him, catching his tattered clothes in many places, adding countless small rips and tears of their own.
The Witcheress relaxed, although only a little. Even though it appeared as if nothing was chasing the screaming man, one could never be too sure. Still remaining aware, she moved to intercept the runner.
The man, still shouting in fear, appeared not to notice the young woman, even as he drew closer and closer to her. He kept looking back over his shoulder, eyes bulging in terror. It was in one such moment that he ploughed into the trunk of a fallen oak, tripping over it and tumbling into the dirt, stunned momentarily. As reluctant as she was to laugh at another's misfortune, the Witcheress found herself hard-pressed not to chuckle a little at the comical sight. Instead, she quickly leapt atop the fallen tree, lightly moving along its length until she drew near to the man, dropping into a crouch next to him. She flipped him over onto his back, brushing the dirt and dried leaves off his face. He soon regained consciousness, eyes opening slowly, then quickly, widening as he regarded the mutated huntress kneeling over him. A startled gurgle escaped his throat as he began to claw at the dirt underneath himself, pushing himself backwards.
"Hey- hey!" She tried to soothe, but had to snap a little to break through the haze of his panic. She raised a gloved hand, fingers tracing the rune of Axii as she spoke. "Calm it down, ok? I need you to take it easy, and breathe. What happened?"
A veil of calm fell upon the man, like a shroud draped over his facial expression. His body stilled as his breathing stabilised. After a few moments, he drew in a deep lung-full of air and expelled it carefully, all tension vanishing.
"Twas a beast, m'lady!" He exclaimed. "Out there, in the forest. 'E ran up 'n ate both me 'orses, 'ooves, bones, tack 'n everythin'! I tried to 'ide unner me wagon, but 'e jus' turned it over 'n started clawin' at me! Melitele be praised I were carryin' all that venison. Distracted the beast long enough for me to crawl away!"
"What kind of beast was it?" The Witcheress asked firmly, the suggestion of the Axii Sign still pressing on the man's mind.
"A dragon!" The man squawked hysterically. "All big 'n covered in scales, wi' wings as broad as a barn! An' those eyes, so wicked sharp and black..."
"Never heard of a dragon harassing a travelling wagon before..." She muttered. "They're normally too smart for that."
"'Tis the truth, m'lady!" He proclaimed.
She didn't reply for a moment, thinking it over. The man, startled, grubby from the mud, clothes all torn from his flight, seemed unharmed. It was strange for an intelligent beast such as a Dragon to attack a merchant and risk the resulting mobs of hunters scouring the countryside looking for them. Dragons instead normally kept as far away from people as they could, to live their lives unmolested. The Witcheress clicked her tongue thoughtfully. Something didn't add up, and she needed to know what it was. Her pulse began to quicken. A mystery! In an instant, her mind was made up.
"Is there a village nearby? A place you can go to be safe?"
"Th- the village of Boggevrieg be close, m'lady." The man stammered. "'Tis where I was headin', before..."
"Then go there, get some rest." The Witcheress ordered in a soothing, calm tone. "I'll deal with the beast for you. Tell the alderman what you saw, and have him ready my reward for when I return."
"You're going after it?" His question was incredulous as he looked the Witcheress up and down. "What could you possibly do against a creature like that?"
"You'd be surprised." Ylia winked as she stood up, brushing a few motes of dirt off her clothes. "I've picked up a few tricks in my time." She reached out, proffering her hand to the prone merchant. "Come on, up you get. Hurry on to the village, and tell everybody to stay within the borders until I return. It won't be safe for them to wander the forest with such a creature nearby."
With that, she turned to leave, but the man's voice stopped her mid-step.
"Wait! I don't know your name. Who will I tell the village you are?"
"Its Ylia. Of the Witchers of Kaer Marter." The huntress smiled back at him. "Now go. You've a village to warn, and the hunt calls to me!"
The man nodded silently before dashing away, soon vanishing in the direction he had indicated the village lay. The Witcheress, Ylia, meanwhile, turned to face the forest, feeling her pulse shift and jitter a little. A hungry, almost feral smile tugged at her lips as she began to move through the forest, barely making a sound even as she picked up speed. Finally, an adventure!