His eyes closed as pitch black and opened as golden. Effects of the potion he took wore off and aside from his wounds he felt sick in his stomach now. Wearily, he got on his feet, picked up his sword and holding his midsection he shuffled towards Ella.

She never left the top of the tree and watched the battle in breathless suspense.

Geralt sat under the tree and leaned against its trunk. They were silent. The girl was too scared to death, and unsure what to say, Geralt too exhausted to speak, let alone with a child. They stayed like this till dawn.

With the daylight and no obvious danger around, Ella voluntarily climbed down. The Witcher offered her again to travel to the temple with him. She agreed and they set off on the road to the temple, gathering Roach on the way.

It was in the witcher's favor that the girl was tired after the whole night of adventure and slept in the saddle most of the journey. He had enough time to think. To recall Renaud's pleas and tears. My Ella is everything to me. To recall the bandit's words. Her father is happy to be rid of her. And his debt to me. By the time they reached the main gate of the temple, Geralt's body was tense with rage.

Nenneke could see at first sight that something was wrong. She welcomed them both with an open-hearted smile, but she kept her frown. Especially after she embraced Geralt warmly and squeezed a bit. She didn't miss the wince.

"Geralt, what happened?" Nenneke asked, eyeing both Ella and the witcher.

"Please, Nenneke, the girl needs a refuge. A home. And I don't know of a better place..."

"Of course, she may stay with us, Geralt. Ella is welcomed in the Temple of Melitele. Don't be afraid, little girl, I don't bite." Nenneke smiled at the girl and stroked her hair.

"Thank you," Geralt said, thankful that Nenneke, for once, put aside her strict act in front of the still scared girl.

The high priestess called for one of her apprentices that had come out to look at the visitors and commanded her to take care of Ella. She ordered food and water to be given to her and a proper bed to sleep in. With the two of them gone, she turned back to Geralt.

"No thanks needed, Geralt. Just an explanation. Spit it out. What's going on?"

"There is no time. I need to go. But I will come back tomorrow and tell you everything," the witcher waved the priestess off and took Roaches' reins.

"Don't even try this, Geralt. I can see how stiff you are. Let me look at you and then you can go clean up whatever mess you've gotten yourself into."

"It's nothing," Geralt dismissed her again and dared to step towards the gate.

She caught his arm. "I insist."

It wasn't only Nenneke's stern voice that didn't allow him to oppose much against her commands, especially those that concerned his health, because Geralt knew Nenneke was top class in healing arts, and she knew a lot about witcher's mutated body and its divergences. And it wasn't even only that respect. For the most part, he was just afraid that if he didn't permit her to take care of him, he would lose her care forever.

For another - much much smaller - part, he wasn't feeling wonderful. He hasn't gotten any sleep after the exhausting battle, his side and ribs were giving him a hard time and even though his lacerated back stopped bleeding, it hurt him every time his shirt brushed against his flesh. It would do no harm to get into better shape before the hours-long journey to Brillen.

Only if it didn't take so long.

Nenneke told him to wait for her in the infirmary and he had been waiting long enough to lose all his patience. He was leaning against a table gravely irritated when she entered with a bowl of water and some clean cloth.

"Don't look so sulky." Nenneke criticized his expression as she walked to the table next to him and put down the things she brought. "I haven't seen you for too long to look at your brooding."

Geralt forced a faint smile.

"Better," she said with appreciation and took his chin. She lowered his head to inspect the cuts and scrapes on his forehead, then started washing the blood and dirt away from it.

"You should be more careful, Geralt," the priestess said after a moment of silence. "One of the most important rules: always, always protect your head. Blows to the head end in losing consciousness, and the unconscious warrior is a dead warrior."

Geralt kept silent. He was quite accustomed to Nenneke scolding him and knew better not to interrupt her. It was easier to let her get it out and listen.

"You were lucky this time, it won't even leave a scar," she said when she finished and put aside the cloth. "Not that they had ever bothered you."

"Hmm."

"Don't grumble and take off your shirt!"

Suppressing a wince, Geralt obediently pulled the shirt over his head. Nenneke gasped and winced as well as he revealed dark purple marks spreading over his ribs and side.

"You call this nothing?" she asked with unusual sorrow in her voice. "This looks horrible."

"It is nothing serious, it'll heal. Soon."

"The fact that you heal quicker doesn't mean you don't need medical attention. Turn around," Nenneke commanded while already sending him in motion with her hand. Spotting the ragged cut on his back, she hissed. "This needs cleaning and stitches."

Geralt shrugged and suppressed a grimace when his sore shoulder disagreed with that motion. Now wasn't the time to bring it up.

She guided him to face her again, examining the rest of his body as she did so. Then she let him rest against the table and began to gently run her fingers over his bruised chest, feeling the ribs beneath it.

"What monster was it this time?"

"A howler," Geralt answered, his voice uneven as her touch caused him pain. He didn't dare to flinch though, he knew very well to hold still when the priestess tended his wounds, even if her administrations hurt.

"I heard they are huge and nasty. Is it dead?" Nenneke asked, not stopping her probing, only glancing up at him when he didn't reply. Seeing him with furrowed brows, slowly breathing through his nose, she felt sorry for him and answered herself. "Of course it is." She knew Geralt was skillful and that as cruel as the realization was, wounds and scars were practically essential in witcher's life.

"So, I assume you let it charge you?" she inquired, finding more material to nag him.

Geralt rolled his eyes. It was indeed quite shameful fail for a witcher.

"Yes, I wouldn't turn down a good chance to fly through air. It's refreshing. You should try it."

She snorted and gently slapped him. "None of your ribs is broken," she said finally, finishing up her scrutiny. "You are lucky."

"Hmm."

"It still looks horribly, Geralt. Can you even breathe deeply?"

"It hurts," Geralt admitted. The discomfort restricted his movements and it annoyed him. "Do you have any cure for that?"

"I do, actually. Rest."

"Not an option."

"Then you have to deal with it. Now go sit onto the bed, back to the window so I can stitch you up." She gathered the water and cloth, grabbed a needle and a thread from a cabinet and dragged a chair to sit behind him. All in a very spry manner.

"And what about the girl? Ella? How did she run into you?" Nenneke asked as she soaked a cloth in a water mingled with herbs and started cleansing the cut.

Geralt began to tell her the story, how a desperate father had approached him in the inn and begged him to find his missing child while the whole inn watched and listened. How he had found her in the woods in hands of bandits. How he had thought for a second that she, in fact, wanted to be with them more than with her father, until they had started to threaten her with rape. He told her that the bandits had told him the father gave them the daughter to pay up his debt.

As he spoke with his back to her, he couldn't see her frown. He flinched as she pushed a needle into his reddish flesh when he didn't expect it and muttering an apology, he continued.

He recounted how he had fought the bandits and killed their leader and how he had to convince the girl to come down from a tree only to tell her to go back up because a howler attacked them. He skipped his not very triumphant defeat of the monster and jumped to the present where they arrived in the temple.

"Tell me, Geralt," she said, placing another stitch into his skin. "The man from the town, father of Ella, isn't his name by any chance Renaud Croenn?"

Geralt waited a second to let her tie the thread and then turned to her. "You know him?!"

"Oh Geralt, this is bad. Renaud Croenn is not someone you want to get into a quarrel with."

"Too late for that," Gerald said, turning his back to her again. He would have welcomed the chance to reverse time so he could change his decision about going into Brillen. He would be enjoying his stay in the temple instead of being in pain or in need of coarse fibers being forced into his skin. But there was no such magic. And even if there was, Ella would be still in danger and man like Renaud would freely continue with his wicked life without a witcher's mark on his back.

"Wrong. You can leave him be. Ella is safe here and so are you. Don't tempt your good fortune."

Geralt scoffed. "I have had much more terrifying opponents, believe me."

"You don't know what you are talking about."

"Tell me, then," Geralt blurted out a bit exasperated.

"The man is pure evil. It all looks innocent on the outside. But on the inside, the talk is he sells women as slaves. Sex slaves. And I have tended to several girls who had been subjected to such slavery. It was not a nice sight, Geralt. But nobody dares to go against him, because thanks to his business, he assembled an army of cruel men. There are rumors he had ordered his own wife's death because she tried to undermine his trades."

Nenneke watched as Geralt's body grew tense with every word she said.

"It is good you brought Ella here, she would never be safe with him. But going to Brillen is a bad idea, Geralt. The whole town is under Renaud's influence. They are afraid of him, of his men. They are afraid for their daughters and wives. And you are alone, injured and clearly tired and aching after a long year of hunting monsters!"

Geralt exhaled wearily; he knew that partially, she was right. But he didn't want to listen to her opinion. "I am fine, Nenneke. And I can hardly pretend I didn't hear what you just said about him. I can't leave it be. I witnessed his behavior. And I was blind. He deceived me." Gritting his teeth, Geralt replayed the situation in the inn, remembering one small detail. "Besides, he owes me coins."

"You are really naive if you expect he'll give you any," the priestess scoffed.

"I don't," Geralt said, and he really did not. But retrieving a payment for a job accomplished was apt with the witcher's code. While the urge that drove him to Brillen not so much and so there he found another element that bolstered his decision. "And you are really naive if you expect I'll just let this pass and ignore it."

"So what is it that I should expect? What do you want to do, witcher, hm? Go back to Brillen for revenge?"

Geralt was silent.

"Oh Geralt!" Nenneke said with clear reproach. "Have you forgotten? Never get involved! It will get you killed. If not worse."

"I am already involved!" he raised his voice but managed to stop the incoming wave of rage. The needle pierced his skin again and he had to bite down his tongue so as not to cry out. He breathed slowly to deal with the pain and continued calmly. "I didn't want to, but it happened. Now I have to deal with it."

"No, you don't. Just get un-involved! Stay here with me as you have planned. You need time to heal and clear your mind."

Geralt just clenched his jaws.

The witcher couldn't comprehend why Nenneke didn't appreciate his decision. Especially when she had seen Renaud's evil firsthand. It was driving him mad. Didn't she see the man was a monster to be rid of?

Assuming that the stitching was done as no pain flashed through his back in a while, Geralt tried to turn at her. He was stopped with Nenneke's palm.

"Stop stirring!" Nenneke commanded and his skin was pricked once more, on a particularly sensitive spot. Geralt groaned and curled his fingers into a fist.

"What if he comes here to look for her?" Geralt barked angrily and hoped that perhaps that could make her see some reasoning, that she would give him her warrant.

"And why would he? Anyone followed you here?"

"No. But better safe than sorry. I have decided, Nenneke." Geralt said, his voice roaring as a result of his overflowing anger.

"This is going to end badly."

"Yes, it is. For him!" Geralt retorted. "He made a fool of me, used his daughter and risked her life just to clear his debt with fucking scoundrels!"

"There is no doubt that Renaud Croenn is a filthy crook but the only one who is making a fool of you is yourself. He is dangerous, Geralt, understand it, finally!" Nenneke stood up from her chair, scraping it on the floor as anger caught up with her too. "People in Brillen do whatever he'll say, because they know they might come to harm if not. If you go back, you might get yourself killed. Nobody will help you. And beyond any doubt, you are gonna get not only yourself but the witcher's guild into trouble. That's selfish, because all this is about - is your hurt pride."

Geralt needed to hit something.

"Are you done?" he snapped. Not waiting for a yes, he got up from the bed and strode towards the table where he left his shirt. Without looking back, he set out to the door.

"Geralt…" Nenneke called after him and was surprised when he actually came to halt.

"Filthy crook," Geralt snarled scornfully as he put on the shirt, "was the bandit I killed to save the girl. Renaud is worse. Thus, deserves worse."

That was it, with quick long steps he walked out.

"You are not listening!" she called behind him, but it was too late. He wasn't going to listen, she knew that. The priestess realized too late she was mistaken to tell him the truth about Renaud. The witcher was now furious. And she was the one who led him there. The one, who set him on the path of anger driven revenge. With a huff, she tossed the thread and needle away and rubbed her face with her bloody hands.