Chapter 10

Just before dawn, Regis finished another one of his books. This time a treatise on the interactions of common herbs with herbs arriving after the Conjunction of the Spheres. He put a hand on Root's shoulder. He had only to will it for the spell to be lifted, but she continued to sleep for a bit naturally. He rose and went to get the kettle from the wagon, only to find the form of Vernon Roche still passed out in the back, obstructing his access to the crate carrying the cooking pots. Annoyed he decided that morning tea could wait and went for a stroll down by the creek. Geralt rested against the wagon, a heavy blanket wrapped about his shoulders and Regis wondered how on earth the Witcher could sleep in such a position as he walked past him. Roach whinnied a greeting and happily munched the grass that shimmered with dew. As he stood by the flowing water of the creek, Regis noted that the morning was indeed significantly cooler than the last few, signs that the first frost would soon be upon them. But as the golden sun climbed up over the horizon, shedding its light on the world, the vampire was reminded that in all his years, wars had come and gone and always the peoples lived on.

Back at the camp, Root opened her eyes and sat up slowly, rubbing her neck, which was getting more and more uncomfortable from sleeping on the hard ground. Running her hand through her short hair, she noted that Regis wasn't by her side but spotted him down by the creek, with the Witcher sleeping by the wagon. She stripped off her clothes and within the blink of an eye, the dark brown werewolf manifested and gave a mighty shake of her body, standing on all fours, flexing her paws and yawning deeply, revealing rows of shining teeth in her powerful maw. Geralt opened his eyes, sensing his medallion quiver during the transformation, and gave the werewolf a pleasant smile which she returned with a quiet whuff. She then lumbered down to the creek, with Regis turning to her.

"Good morning, my dear. Sleep well?" he asked.

She responded with another whuff, nodding her head and twitching her long ears, and then bent her head down to drink from the stream. The vampire stood by her side with his hand resting on her back, happy to be in the company of what the world saw as another monster; a monster that he loved and who loved him in return, fangs and all.

Geralt got up and muttered about his back being sore. After a stretch, he grabbed his twin blades and walked off into the woods. Root bounded off down the path towards the meadow and Regis went back to camp, becoming more annoyed by the minute that the man named Roche was not yet awake. So he contented himself with filling his pipe for a morning smoke and having a walk around like the others of his company.

The werewolf spent her time poking around the deep grasses of the meadow, spooking critters from their burrows and devouring them for her breakfast. One vole, then a few mice and even a hefty and too-slow rabbit filled her belly to fullness and she was happy. Licking her jowls, she then spied a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye and immediately dropped into a crouch. But as she looked, she saw that in the distance it was the Witcher. Curious, she approached.

Transfixed, the werewolf watched as the master swordsman performed ancient rituals of practice from memory. He was like a sword dancer, elegant, never rushing, smooth, gliding from one movement to the next seamlessly, his blades whirling around him in a silvery flash as the sunlight caressed the blades shining with powerful, magical runes. Geralt had removed his armor, shirt and boots, which left him wearing only his black pants and silver wolf medallion. And Root found herself staring, amazed at the perfection that the Witcher was, a near flawless machine of whirling death. Each swing of his swords whistled a dirge to the invisible foes he sought around him and the werewolf knew then that had he truly wanted to kill her, she'd have little chance against such precision and skill. She also found herself completely absorbed by the beauty of his body. Scarred in several places, it was nonetheless ripped with pure muscle, the sinews pulling with every movement, rolling under his pale skin. He slowed his dance, turned and stopped gracefully in a neutral position from which one could strike or defend, with his back to her. Root swallowed, seeing the sweat run down between his shoulders, his white hair stuck to the back of his neck. Geralt turned his head.

"Hello, Root." He said, his voice even, not winded or tired in the slightest.

The Witcher turned fully toward her, resting the twin blades against his shoulder and gazed at the werewolf seated in the grass.

"Don't ever let Yennefer catch you staring at me like that." He said with a grin. "I don't mind, but she'll make a cloak out of you."

Root had no idea who this Yennefer was, but was happy to know the Witcher didn't mind her gawking at him. She had to admit, Geralt was one fine piece of man. But he wasn't her Regis.

"Which, by the way, reminds me, can we talk?" he asked, slipping a light cotton shirt on while coming over to sit by her.

Geralt then told her all about Falithe aen Caem and his twisted fetish for werewolves and their pelts while Root listened quietly. When finished, they sat in silence as mid-morning approached.

"So, now you know. I took those pelts from him because I didn't want anyone else to find them. Nor sell them on the black market to other sick fucks that are into shit like that." The Witcher said.

Root nudged him with her muzzle, growled quietly and then turned back toward the meadow, slowly making her way back toward camp. Geralt wondered about her thoughts, but figured he'd ask later. He rose and headed toward the creek for a bath.

A very sore Vernon Roche sat up in the wagon and put a hand to his head, which was throbbing from a hangover and being thumped by a mailed fist.

"That son of a bitch. He hit me I bet." Roche grumbled.

He climbed down, noticed the fire was going and crouched to warm his hands, noting that no one was around except for the man Emiel Regis down by the creek. A crack off to the side alerted him to movement and his eyes widened with absolute shock as the werewolf came into view.

Root looked up, lost in her thoughts, and saw the man she recognized as he who had held her at knife point. A snarl ripped from her throat and she flexed her paws, unleashing three inch long claws that could shred the toughest of hides like ribbons. Her green eyes flashed, and glowed with an infernal rage. But he was a veteran warrior and quickly recovered his wits, grabbing the sword from his side and the dagger from his boot. But she was on him like lightning and sent the man hurling backwards with a swat of her forepaw. Roche landed heavily on his back, rolled to his feet and barely had time to see the massive form collide into him again and fling him into a tree. He fell in a heap, dazed, his vision blurry.

Regis, hearing the noise, turned, and all he saw was Vernon go flying into a birch and land with a thud. The werewolf howled with fury and leapt toward the human and Regis could see bloodlust in her eyes.

"Oh dear." Regis said, glancing toward Roche and then promptly vanished into thin air.

Vernon raised his arm as her teeth came down and he felt her bite into the hardened wrist guard he wore that was reinforced with banded steel. With a mighty twist of her head, she tore the gauntlet off, spat it out and lunged. But he rolled to the side deftly, slipping a large hunting knife from his other boot. In a second he was on his feet and faced her. Werewolf and man circled each other, for Root eyed the blade cautiously, smelling a distinct scent on the air. She growled fiercely, baring elongated canines.

"Yeah, it's silver." He said, a nasty smile twisting his features. "Not so brave now are you?"

Root lunged, making for his open side, exactly what he wanted her to do and just as he went to slash her muzzle, she feinted and snapped her jaws mere inches from his fingers, causing him to drop the blade to save his hand. Roche knew there was no way he would outrun her as she swatted his legs out from under him and then crushed him to the ground with her back paws, raising her foreclaws.

"Root, no!" she heard Geralt bark.

Turning, Root saw the Witcher and Regis race up, but she was so blinded that she roared at them, spittle flying from her fangs, turning her green eyes on the mighty swordsman, scenting silver on his person as well.

"Regis, now would be a good time for, you know…" Geralt said, not wanting to draw on her.

The master vampire focused his gaze, taking a step forward to draw her attention. He locked eyes and saw nothing but rage. He didn't have to say anything; his powerful will was enough to make her falter.

She hesitated long enough for Roche to deliver a mighty kick to her underbelly which caused her to break eye contact with Regis and stumble backwards. It was enough so he could get out from under her and scramble towards the other two men.

"What are you doing, Geralt? You're a witcher! Kill that thing!" Vernon said, keeping his eyes on the creature that was turning toward all three of them. "And what are you doing? Having a staring contest?"

She shook her head, and a terrible growl rolled toward them and Geralt felt it reverberate in his chest. He'd completely forgotten that Roche was asleep in the wagon and that Root didn't know he was there. He blamed himself for this whole debacle; he should've woken Vernon at first light before anyone else and got him on his way. But why she didn't seem to recognize him or Regis he didn't know. The werewolf circled them, with the three men standing with their backs to each other.

"I can't." Geralt said, watching every step of the werewolf for signs of her making a move. "That's Root. The woman from last night, she's a friend and…she's a…werewolf."

"What?!" Roche exclaimed but was cut off as she pounced.

"Scatter!" the Witcher said, and all three leapt to various sides as she landed where they'd been. "Run! She can't follow all of us!"

"I don't need to run." Regis said and again vanished into thin air, which made Roche mouth the words, "What the fuck…" while he and Geralt raced off into the woods.

Geralt counted on her pursuing Roche and when he saw her bound after him with a roar, he turned and knew he had one chance to try something, but was entirely unsure if it would work. But he had to get there fast because quick as Vernon was he was not going to outrun a werewolf.

Roche could sense her approaching; and felt the ground thundering beneath his boots as large paws stuck the earth each time. He knew she'd be on him in a moment. And then he heard the Witcher.

"Run her this way!" he said and Vernon turned toward the voice, feeling her claws swipe at him, entirely too close for comfort.

He saw Geralt standing in a clearing, his fingers splayed into the aard sign.

"Move now!" he cried, and then let fly the sign, striking Root full in the muzzle, which sent her flying backwards by magical force, landing her in a pile of thicket. The Witcher wasted no time and leapt forward, landing on her strong back and curled his fingers into a second sign.

She roared with fury and snapped at his fingers as he brought them in front of her eyes, making the sign of axii. Her body trembled as the magic forced its way through her rage filled mind, and Geralt wondered if it'd be enough. He held her tightly, his hand clutching her fur. But then she began to relax, the rage slowly going out of her eyes, and she dropped her head. He released his grip, and laid his hand on her. She was still and quiet, just as his horse would be when he had to use it on the old mare when she was spooked. The White Wolf sighed deeply and nodded to Roche, who was clutching his side.

Geralt crouched in front of Root.

"Come on. Change back. You're safe." He said quietly.

The werewolf gazed at him and Geralt saw the spark of recognition in her green eyes. He smiled. "Come on back."

Regis appeared next to Vernon who, for the moment, had stopped asking questions and winced because it hurt to breathe.

"She's cracked a few of your ribs and…yes, that's fresh blood, caught you at least once with her claws. Come with me, we'll get you fixed up. And no, not a staring contest. Had you not interrupted, we could've mitigated a few of these injuries." The surgeon said, motioning for Roche, who was utterly confused, to follow him.

Slowly the fur and fangs melted away in a shimmer of magic and Root collapsed into Geralt's arms. He held her until she blinked a few times, the magic of his axii sign fading in power.

"Where…what…where is he?" she asked, looking around.

"Don't concern yourself with him. He's a prick, but he's a prick who's a friend. As before, I'll explain. He means you no harm." Geralt said, searching to make sure the rage was gone. Satisfied, he slipped off his shirt and handed it to her, which made the woman realize that she was utterly naked. Happily the Witcher's shirt was long enough to cover her bottom and he walked with her back to the camp, explaining who Vernon Roche was and what had happened along the way.

"There you go. A few quick stitches and you're fine, although those ribs will hurt for some time…"

"I've had my share of broken ribs." Vernon snapped. "Just…oh never mind. Sorry. Thank you, my good man."

Vernon looked up as the two approached and he laid eyes on the woman walking beside the White Wolf. Her short brown hair and forest green eyes caught the morning sunlight as she stepped into the camp clearing with bare legs, wearing only Geralt's long, white cotton shirt. He was speechless.

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing." Regis said softly, his voice full of unmasked adoration.

Vernon looked over to the surgeon who'd stitched him up.

"And so what are you?" he asked. "People don't just vanish and reappear out of thin air."

Regis smiled mysteriously, with pursed lips, but did not reply.

"Fine." He said, wincing again.

"Regis is a friend; an old friend of mine. And this is Root, a new friend of ours. Root, this is Vernon Roche. He and I…well let's just say we've worked together." Geralt said, grabbing another shirt from his satchel.

"And I am hungry." Regis said, clapping his hands together. "Breakfast and tea are in order."

"I have an idea then." Roche said. "Vizima isn't far from here. Why don't you come with me? We'll meet up with the Stripes and escort you into the city. You can have a proper meal and a good bed. We should be able to make it there just after mid-day."

Geralt looked to Regis, who seemed to think it was a lovely idea. But Root was torn. That night the full moon would peak and she'd have to change. But she so wanted to see the city.

"I need to resupply a few things in town too." Geralt said, but noted Root's wavering. He then remembered the moon phase. "But…I'm afraid we'll have to leave come late afternoon. Still, I think we'll have time. Besides, I know Dandelion is in town."

The woman so wanted to meet this Dandelion, having heard so much about him from both Geralt and Regis, and brightened. She rose, stripped off the shirt, tossed it back to Geralt and dug into the wagon for more the bards' clothing that she'd been borrowing. Vernon stared at the smooth, curvy backside, confused by her innocent nakedness around three men, while Geralt shook his head and dressed himself. Regis simply adored her, but eventually rose and began to break camp.