Where the Path Leads

Frozen Winds, Lonely Howls

What she thought was the fierce mask of a warrior did little to conceal her true emotions, at least from the man that loomed over her, pheromones, pupil contraction, sweat and an erratic heartbeat were enough evidence that this woman. No, barely that, she was terrified beyond reasoning. Her blade began to shake along with the rattling of her breaths. She was for from certain about killing him, no doubt in that, her resolve would of pushed her through otherwise. Slowly he began to pull away while gently placing a hand upon her blade, enforcing a psychological barrier between them, it was like trying to convince an elk you had no intentions of butchering it for meat. For whatever reason this person, who was able to almost over power him, was in the mental state of prey. He sat down away from her but not so far back that he could not see everything clearly, her comfort was not a concern only his safety. Once he was seated away from her she visibly relaxed before she placed her blade on the wooden step beside her, as she did a heavy breath left her mouth. The two watched each other intently, trying to find the right questions to ask, or perhaps the right way to ask them, either way both seemed to be at a loss for how to deal with this situation. Taking keen note of the woman before him the Witcher was fascinated by her white hair, pale skin and bright pink eyes. Seeing her was like witnessing a full bloom of a blossom in winter, something he decided would be quite beautiful to see if it compared to this interesting woman.

'You...Called me a demon, why is that?'

As though knocked from a trance she covered her modesty once he spoke, she too seemed to be interested in the subject before her. 'Yes, though wrongly so, it seems I am mistaken. Unless you are some odd form of demon'.

He sighed heavily which alarmed the young lady, what she presume to be a question that perturbed him was simply his desire to have a dictionary on hand. 'No I am not a demon...Not fully human either'.

Predatory eyes keenly observed every twitch, breath and flick of the eyes. Rarely by choice and often by habit. While it scared her to think what could make a human a creature comparable to a demon she was growing less afraid and more intrigued. 'I am surprised you know about the demons but I am shocked to see a foreigner so far inland'.

His gaze became vacant for a moment, as though a bitter thought invaded his mind. 'I know about many "demons", different cultures have whole rosters of monsters. It is my job to kill ones that are harmful, archive information about those not yet encountered and help preserve those who are sentient. Though it has been difficult being entirely out of place here, although it is beautiful there is rarely anyone who shows me much kindness'. The Witcher was surprised by his good use of the language, he was glad for the practice he was getting.

'There are such people far West? Are they all like you with demonic eyes? Surely you have not faced the demons we battle here, at least I would hope that they are confined in this land'. She seemed upset by the prospect that a creature as dangerous as these "demons" were rampant in the world.

He smiled, it was nice for someone to talk with him about his nature and profession not at him. 'First of all we are called Witchers, our kind nearly died out long ago though scientific revolution through the renaissance and some lucky explorers managed to discover an process that creates people very well suited to the task of monster hunting'. He pointed at the medallion etched with a wolves head. 'We have different schools who resurfaced too, though not all as they once were, the most authentic is the school of the Wolf. Probably because there was more archived in their old forts and in some rare journals scattered throughout Poland and Germany'.

She shuffled closer, leaving her sword behind. 'This gives you demon eyes?'

He chuckled. 'No, not demon eyes, they are more like a cats. My vision in pitch black darkness is quite clear, it makes hunting for food and foraging much easier'.

Delicate fingers played with his medallion, she was very close. 'Tell me more, how were you changed?'

That was difficult, what more could he say, there was only a simple way to put it. 'We are stronger, faster, better honed, longer lived and sturdier than any human could hope to be. As far as I know a Witcher never dies of old age...'.

She watched his grim smile crease his travellers beard. 'I see, thank you for being so open with me, could I possibly enlist your aid for hunting a demon? If not it would be no hindrance though your general company would ease my journey too. Perhaps we can both gain something from this venture?'

'That would help me but can you tell me why you are so scared of these demons of yours?' This seemed to distract her from toying with his medallion. She took a seat beside him and leaned back, letting her arms spread out with one resting behind him.

'It may be easier if I tell you their weaknesses and nature. A demon drinks blood and consumes humans to survive, the more they eat the stronger they become. While impossible to kill with normal weapons there is a way to slay them. This must be done with a weapon made of Scarlet Crimson Ore or Iron Sand of the same nature however the killing blow must be a decapitation, any other strike is meaningless and eventually the demon will regenerate their wounds then eventually kill their enemy or go on to devour more humans'. He had to admit this was worse then he expected. 'Thankfully the sunlight kills them making the day safe for the most part, though caves and hidden shelters have been found as preferable dens for demons to hide during daylight'.

It was not the vast capabilities of these creatures that left the Witcher in a state of deep contemplation, no he had encountered vampires before but these sounded like ones he had heard tales of, what he concluded was that it seemed to be some form of creature that had the crossed nature of a vampire and a necrophage. Though to need a special weapon to deal with them? Surely his meteorite steel sword would be of some use? If not that then silver? How much of what this woman knew was truth sullied by myth and superstition? Surely decapitation was not the only way kill them?

'I see you do not fully believe me?' She giggled while standing up, less concerned for her modesty this time. The pale woman retrieved her blade and presented it to him before taking her seat once more, now fixated on him as he held her dearest possession. Taking the blade he admired the work of the craftsman, it was well made scabbard and grip although the guard was not to his liking he could tell that no part of the weapons was neglected. Once he unsheathed the blade he gasped in surprise, his jaw becoming slack realising just how little of her weapon he saw, the blade was shaped like any other katana though this blade looked and felt like ice, a gentle mist poured from it as though mist on a winters morning, though the blade had a look and texture of frozen water, some parts even seemed transparent while others reflected his image in a frosted mirror.

'This is a beautiful blade, well made too, though I assume there is some kind of magic or special property to these Scarlet Crimson swords?' His inquisitive attitude was having a positive effect on both of them, for instance, they were sitting close enough that their flesh began to meet but neither noticed.

Her hand rested atop his to help twist the blade in the way she desired. 'No two are the same, although many may look it, once the wielder gets strong enough the blade changes colour. Nichirin Blades are often called colour changing swords, no one can really tell what colour anyone will receive, though certain individuals have had swords change in ways that are unique much like everyone in my family'. Her chest pressed against his arm as she leaned closer. 'The Scarlet Crimson Ore is very special as it comes from either the Sunlight Mountain or any others in the right position to be in sunlight all year round. It was found that this special ore constantly absorbs sunlight and provided us with the best means to created weapons to battle the demons otherwise our only option is to ward them off with wisteria, they cannot tolerate it, the smell is revolting to them and it acts as a poison against them'.

Every faculty of the monster hunters mind was focussed on retaining this information so that he could put it to pen later, ensuring he remembered everything in crisp detail. This information could very well save him while he travelled across Japan, he could imagine little worse then fighting one of these creatures unprepared. 'While this is all very educational. I have to wonder what type of girl bathes with a sword and who lets one so young know so much about fighting demons'.

Her lips were cold and her breath turned his hairs on end. 'What makes you believe I am a just a girl?'

His instincts thrashed about his mind like a wild beast, adrenalin had already began pumping through his body as everything in this moment of time became crisp and clear. Though for an unfathomable reason he did not dare move, as though doing so would cause something bad to happen, her lips were close enough that he could feel her smile.

'I think I have said more than enough, curiosity is something I indulge in and it is rare I meet someone on the trail who too hunts monsters, honestly myself and my family are often avoided by other demon slayers though your circumstance is different'. She removed the blade from his grasp and set it aside where it would not get wet. 'Do not worry, we are not avoided out of spite or fear, we simply do not abide by the same philosophy'.

Slowly fingers brushed against his abdomen, cool to the touch much different to the warm waters enveloping them. Her other hand ran along his neck before diving down the valley between the muscles of his shoulders. 'Now that you know I am not a scary little girl, will you indulge my curiosity?'

Having forced the strength to look into her eyes he now noticed the glint of someone far older than what she seemed. 'I am flattered but...You are a bit young'.

Freezing and wet her tongue made a trail along his jaw, his wide eyes causing her to giggle. 'A side effect of my families techniques, a special secret, it causes us to age slowly'. Faster than he could stop she slid into his lap, biting her lip as she felt him press against her cold body hot and throbbing. 'Does that dispel your moral dilemma?'

Unfortunately for him he now noticed just how pert and pink her developing breasts were. 'You are certainly the most attractive person to throw themselves on me but right now, as I am, I do not think this is the right thing to do'.

Her face became concerned, gentle, as she pressed her forehead against his. 'Ah, you are alone, there is a fear that what good people you meet there is no doubt that you will drive them to hate you. No matter if you will it or not, am I right?'

He tried to pull his eyes away from her firm gaze, like a beam of light that pierced his soul and presented his true feelings. 'Witchers do not get happy endings'.

Cold fingers, delicate fingers, grasped his chin to keep him facing her. 'Perhaps not where you are from but this is the land where the sun rises, how could a future here not be brighter?'

With a delicate voice, soothing words and a gentle touch how could anyone not melt into her? Melt he did as she gently leaned her lips into his, enjoying the light scratch of his beard. His rough hands ran up her thighs, squeezing the cool flesh and thoroughly enjoying the sensation, when he came to her plump rear his hands instinctively squeezed caused her to moan into their kiss. They pulled away only for him to assault her neck with kisses and bites, all of which greatly pleased the woman in his arms. In turn she licked and sucked upon his neck and shoulder though with his aggressive ministrations she seemed unable to fully commit to her actions without quivering or moaning, while not new to sexual intimacy she certainly seemed acquainted. She ground against him causing a deep growl to resonate from his throat, igniting a primal desire within her body, causing her to crave him deep within her.

'P-please, do it, make me yours. Breed me, claim me, just do it'.

Like a candle cut at the wick his body went still and his mind became an abyss. 'I...Think we should travel tomorrow, sorry, I need to sleep'.

The sudden shift in mood had already caused her to leave his lap, she shuffled a fair bit away too, watching his attentive and inquisitive eyes become vacant, a void, that seemed to not account for her cheeks that steadily began to become wet with small rivers. Faster than she could of noticed she was alone in a bath that seemed much colder than she would of liked, far lonelier than she needed. Curling up into herself she allowed the rivers to flow freely as too did her sobs and cries, though she tried to muffle them she wondered if it mattered, did anyone care if she cried?