A/N: These next few short stories are little drabbles. :)
Summary: Geralt has a stick in his hair. Or does he?
"You have a stick in your hair."
Geralt twisted around, his hands flying to his hair where they began ruffling through the white mane for the offending object. It wasn't a surprise really. He usually had something or other that wasn't hair in his hair. He slept in the forest, after all.
He stopped walking in order to concentrate, his hands not having come into contact with anything particularly twiggy for the twenty or so seconds he'd been searching.
Akela stopped behind him, watching with interest as he continued to thread his fingers through his already unruly hair.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Akela stepped towards him and stood up on her toes to reach his head. She didn't notice him duck a little to help, too busy looking through his hair for the stick she was sure she'd seen.
Her hand touched something and she positively shrieked, rushing backwards immediately. "It's not a stick, it's a spider!"
Geralt, after recovering from the ringing in his ears, rolled his eyes, grabbed his waterskin, and poured its contents on his head. The spider fell from his hair and he squashed it under his boot.
The things he did for that girl.