[A/N]: hello peeps! While playing the Witcher 2, this plotbunny bit me, so I decided to try and go along with it for now. Have no idea where this will lead me, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see, right?

Stumbling through the forest with nothing more than a bloodied piece of cloth that kept sliding off her shoulders and a pair of trousers, torn at the edges, the black-haired woman continued to run, even though the soles of her feet continued to bleed from the harsh underground. Where to, even she did not know, though she knew that she had to get away from whatever lay behind her as fast as possible. Her breath came out in pants, sweat stuck to her dirty skin and her body screamed in protest as the blood continued to flow down the wounds on her back, but she refused to stop for even a moment, desperate to put as much distance between herself and Flotsam.

A tree root stuck out of the ground, catching one of the woman's feet and causing her to fall to her knees. Breathing heavily, she dug her nails into the soil beneath her and wanted so badly to just stay there and let death come over her. She believed she could still hear the sound of the town behind her, and her fear of being found by any of those humans, or non-humans, forced her back to her feet and on her way once more.

They had found her in many a humiliating position before, but this would most certainly overshadow all the other incidents, and she would have preferred to avoid something like that. Around every corner already a memory was hidden, an object or a person to remind of her of something that had happened in the past. Another scar on her body or on her mind, another soiled spot which she had to evade if she didn't want to be reminded of one of the many disgraces she had had to suffer at the hands of her fellow citizens, whether by humans or non-humans. It seemed as though she had been doomed to live long enough to see everything surrounding her to become tainted by bad memories and nightmares.

She did not know for how long she had run when, blinded by pain and hair that clung to her brow, she could not see the path before her, and by the time she did, it was already too late. The clang of metal against metal, capturing flesh in between, rang throughout the woods. A moment of silence filled the air, in which the woman realised what had happened, before she screamed at the agony that flared in her leg. Any and all animals that might have been in the near vicinity scattered, running or flying away from the source of all the noise.

A trap. A fucking trap. Who the fuck would put a trap out here in the middle of no where, on a path where people obviously walked. Why the fuck had she not been able to see it in time in the first place?

Tears welled up in her eyes as she clawed at the trap and tried to free herself from it. Whenever she managed to steady her hands enough to grasp the sides, however, she found that she did not have enough energy to open it, the metal always slipping from her grasp. The teeth would simply bite back into her bones, eliciting more yelps from her and adding damage to her already torn up hands.

"It would seem that I have managed to catch a bloede dh'oine," a voice called out from behind the trees all of a sudden, the mirth in it obvious to hear.

The wounded woman's head snapped up at the sound, the throbbing in her leg momentarily forgotten as she spat, "I'm not a fucking dh'oine! You must be a seidhe, all high and mighty but hiding behind your trees and traps!"

Much to her surprise, the offender stepped forward, though armour covered so much of his body that he might as well have stayed behind his tree trunk. She could see half of his face; his left eye and a scar on the right side of his face that ran from his lip to his cheek, where it disappeared under the red bandana wrapped around his head. On the left side of his neck, she could discern a flower pattern inked into his skin, but further than that he had covered himself from top to toe.

She concluded that he most likely belonged to the Scoia'tael. From the arrogance in the way he held himself, he had to be an important member of the Scoia'tael. If she hadn't been feeling dizzy from blood loss and distracted by the aching of her body, it wouldn't have taken her much effort to figure out who stood before her.

"An inh'eid, then," the man mused, the lack of emotions in his tone surprising the woman.

She had had the word thrown at her many times in her life, too many times to keep count, but always it had been spoken with contempt and a curious sense of betrayal. Had she heard this man say it in this manner half her lifetime ago, she might have held some hope for the future. But she hadn't, and thus that hope had withered a long time ago, leaving her with nothing more than a glare she could throw at the man in front of her.

"From the way you speak to me, it does not seem as though you have come to join us," the stranger said as he took another step toward her. "Thus I am left to wonder what exactly an inh'eid such as yourself is doing in my forest."

The woman snorted before replying, "I apologise. I must have missed the sign with your name on it when entering the woods. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my misconduct."

Anger flashed in his green eyes, but before she could fully comprehend what she had seen, it had already disappeared. She forgot all about it when she heard a twig snap behind her, and she turned to see who or what had caused it. Several figures, all hidden by the shadows of the leaves above, stood behind her, but before she could act, her world had gone black.