.XII. All looks peaceful from afar.

It was a beautiful morning on the Isles of Skellige, where spring had finally arrived once again. On Ard Skellig, at the keep of the School of the Bear, a young group of four witchers were getting ready to leave the keep for a quick morning practice in the woods east of the fortress.

Among them was the young witcher called Junod of Belhaven, who was eager to get out of the gloomy fortress.

'Huh, Junod, quit pacing around, he'll be here, soon.'

The young witcher showed a frowned face while he sat down on a barrel with his arms crossed.

'He'd better be...', responded the young pupil. 'I awaited long enough for his lazy, late awaking butt !'

'You know that when he has a woman up there he is always late. And you barely been here for half an hour.'

'You say it like it has been not long at all, he said he'll be down right away...'

'Today ?'

'Last night.'

'Huh, he was drunk...'

'Really ?', replied Junod, while his face frowned again. 'Gerd, why can't he be more like you ?'

'Huh, I know what you're trying to do...'

'Come on, he's obviously not coming out 'till noon...'

Gerd responded with a slight smile, then concentrated back to what he was doing.

'The old man didn't give you any assignment for today, so can you come with me ?', continued Junod, getting up from the barrel and walking towards Gerd, who was cleaning his steel blade. 'Please...'

'Fine. Let me go grab my crossbow...'

'Yes !', said Junod joyfully.

From behind, a young witcher approached Junod.

'So, going with Gerd, huh ?'

'I am.', answered Junod.

'Think I could join ?'.

'I guess so, ask Gerd when he comes back.'.

After that they quietly waited for Gerd. Junod sat on the barrel and the other witcher, Ayo, next to him on a crate.

'What are you practicing today ?', asked Ayo after a time.

On some rare occasions the young witchers had a day in which they had the chance to practice whatever they wanted, from sword fighting, sign casting to alchemy and/or peruse through the thick books and parchments of the witcher bestiary.

'I thought to practice Igni, since I had few issues casting it lately...'

'I for one want to improve my sword play, Ezven told me we'd practice today, but he hasn't returned yet.'.

'From where ?'

'He told me he got a contract on Undvik, so he went there yesterday morning.'

The witcher Ezven of Talgar was as old as Gerd and grew up alongside him and Ksander. He was of Kovir origins, found by Mousar. As he tried to steel the old's man swords. When asked why, he said he wanted to sell them for food.

'Ayo. Ezven's not back yet ?', asked Gerd.

'No, can I come with you ?'.

'Alright. Let's go.'.

The three witchers left the fortress and headed on foot towards the village of Blandare and then the forest to the east.

'Why are we going to the village ?', asked Ayo.

'We're just doing a errand for Neena, got to pick something up from the inn.'.

'And after we go to the forest ? Right ?', began Junod.

'Mhm.', murmured Gerd.

'Can we get some dumplings from the inn ?'

'Got any coin ?'

'No...'.

'Then how you'd buy them ?'

'You'll buy them for us ? No ?'.

'No.'.

'Why ?'

'Did Ksander ever bought you one ?'.

'No...', answered Junod, almost whispering.

'Then why would I buy you one ?'.

'Because you're not him ?'.

'Fine.'.

'Yes !'.

'But, you'll have to fight me and Ayo for it once we get to the forest. If you win, you get a dumpling, if you lose, you get nothing.'

'Wait, that is not fair...'.

'Nothing is.', responded Gerd, while Junod slowed his pace and remained behind.

'Damn it.', whispered Junod frustrated.

'Coming ?', asked Gerd with a smile on his face.

'Yes, I am...', answered Junod, quickening his steps.

...

Time had not been kind to them, the witchers...

Considered unhuman, mutants, even called 'as monstrous as the very beasts they slay', by several revered personalities of the church or state, some of them monarchs. Several schools had to disappear due the toxic reputation they had, the cat, the viper, even the griffin. It was always the same, one of them turned assassin, did such an illicit act that the only solution was that they had to be hunted like animals by some angry lord's men. Or because without any reason or provocation they slaughtered an entire village...

The truth to all of those is a simple one, witchers as unhuman as they are, they still have what folks call humanity in them. All the years they hunted drowners in muddy slums and basilisks in mushy forests, without even having a choice at first. Those men had been left out by the world, exiled from society, having no other purpose but to track and kill, collect then repeat. Not all found a person to care about, some saw no reason in living, lost the very flame of existence, purpose.

Therefore going rogue, seeking something for themselves, a selfish thought at least for once.

Gerd for one, never had an opportunity to know what could've been if his parents had survived. Yet he was thankful for what he had. Almost one could've said that he was happy with what he was doing, most of the time...

...Before, well, before all there was nothing, isn't it ? Or how was it ? Hmm, fuck, can't put my finger on it. By the way...Where does this fuckin' desert end !?

That was one of the thoughts that haunted Gerd's head. Besides that there were no other chains of special thoughts or any kind of ideas. When he saw a dune of sand after four other dunes of sand he would frown, then carry on. He felt like seeing a blank page of a manuscript, clean, white as snow, no trace of ink on it's surface, just that clean white. He wasn't frustrated that he lost his target or that he had been separated from the people who could've guided him through this land of dust and sand. Interesting, as he used to be hot tempered a while ago, had a short patience as well. But that's from when he was a young witcher still, not used to all the none sense this world has, the kind that can fully drown you in it.

There was not much he could think of anyway, he was calm, nor the blazing sun or the hot sand, nor the places it got to could anger him anymore. He just walked, through it like he would do through a forest or a frozen tundra. He didn't see another worm either, just sand. Lots of it.

He was walking east for some time now, days, three of them, almost. He still had enough food and water for five more.

Soon, after he passed on the other side of a dune, Gerd noticed signs of what had been a fight, among four or five men. That ended with two bodies, which were naked, laying in the sand, having signs of multiple puncturing wounds around their torso, and cuts around their ankles and wrists. That could mean that the two were slaves or prisoners, whatever of the two. They escaped their captors who later caught them and as they showed resistance, they were killed. That happened probably sometime last night as the bodies were still in a good condition. The heat of the daylight would've accelerated the decomposing process to a point that the cause of their death would've been hard to determine.

Then a few more meters away, south-east, he found the body of a soldier wearing Haakland breastplate. The corpse was not far from those of the slaves or prisoners that had been murdered. Next to the soldier was his horse, half of it. Was it a worm that attacked him ? Or perhaps something else...

Whatever it was, the area Gerd was in was it's hunting ground. And for sure it didn't kill the soldier, he died from falling off the horse at galloping speed. His breastplate broke in two pieces at the moment of the impact with the sand, and one of the pieces pierced through his left side of the torso and through his left lung.

'Drowned in his own blood. Not a pleasant way to go...'.

'The horse, not bitten, eaten...', began Gerd, while he looked around some more. 'By something big, really big...'.

'It couldn't be that for once, just once, things don't get even more fucked up ?', he asked to whatever and whoever was listening, or just to himself, as he walked further east...

As Gerd was advancing east, the dunes of sand began to uncover a vast feeding ground of a ferocious beast. The sand was saturated with blood to a point in which it appeared of the same color as the crimson substance. Human, animal and even other monsters dead, decomposing corpses were scattered around. But, no sign of the one responsible for an entire valley covered with it's trophies.

Like he previously observed, this monster didn't feed on all the kills it made, some, humans for instance, were horribly disfigured, some missing limbs or even their other half. It was clearly killing those that entered it's territory.

The corpses didn't show or tell many things about what the killer was, besides the evident parts.

'Sharp teeth or claws...', murmured Gerd, inspecting some of the most recent looking human frames.

Just few steps to the left another human carcass was laying with it's left side of the mid section 'missing'. Gerd proceeded to it's location next.

'It finished them, but it wasn't the one who chewed on this particular one. Something else did though...'.

Soon after he risen for the corpse and looked around, then for a moment stood still, listening around, for a sound to follow.

Nothing.

'Quiet as a graveyard...', murmured Gerd. Who after walked towards the top of one dune.

'Is it not here ? Out hunting ? Hmm...'

All looks so peaceful from afar, but, what doesn't ?

From the top of the dune, he saw the Sandstone Hills, to it's left the imposing canyon valleys and the Plateau of Uut. He could traverse through or go around, climbing the high plateau. Where he'd surely meet his monster...