"Where are we going?" Ciri asked Geralt as they departed the tavern. "And why is he coming?"

Jaskier shrunk a bit under the lion cub's piercing blue gaze.

"He's helping us," Geralt told her as he untied Roach and tightened the saddle.

Ciri rolled her eyes and sized up the lanky bard. "And how does he plan on doing that ... by bashing bandits over the head with his lute?"

Suddenly, a large, dark shadow blocked the sun. "So, you brought friends, eh?" a deep voice interrupted them. The three turned towards the source of the voice and saw an incredibly tall man clad in black leather armor.

"Oh, hello." Jaskier said in a squeaky voice, as if some invisible force had grabbed him by the balls. "We were just coming to find you." Jaskier slapped Geralt on the back. "Weren't we Geralt?"

Geralt had no patience for his friend's past due gambling debts.

"No." He confessed with little remorse.

The man cracked his knuckles.

"You know what I came for, bard." The henchman growled. "Now empty your pockets or I'll do it for you."

The color vanished from Jaskier's face as he turned to his old friend with a look of desperation in his eyes. "You don't think you could spare a few coins, do you?"

Geralt wanted to refuse him, but in truth he needed his help. "How much?" He asked gruffly.

"Oh, you know, " Jaskier danced around the question. "A measly small fortune."

Geralt shook his head before turning to roach. He needed to fetch his coin purse from his bag. When he slipped his hand inside, he noticed something amiss. His sword was no longer in its sheath.

That's when he heard it. The unmistakable sound of swords clashing, of steel sliding against steel. When he turned back around his predatory eyes widened in shock. Ciri was crossing swords with the henchman, matching him blow for deathly blow, swing for calculated swing.

Impossible, he thought to himself. She was no swordswoman...

When he eventually snapped back to reality, he raced towards them, knocking Ciri aside to tackle the giant of a man to the ground.

They rolled in the dirt, with Geralt fighting for the upper hand.

Eventually, Geralt's arm wrapped around the henchman's neck, and after a swift pull, the man's head snapped back and his body went limp. He then shoved the body from him and jumped to his feet.

That's when he rounded on Ciri. "What in the bloody hell were you thinking?" He asked her. "Are you trying to get yourself killed!?"

"I was doing what you should have done to begin with! Are you men or are you cowards?" Ciri snapped back.

"I'm a bit of both actually," Jaskier confessed as he rose from the ground and dusted himself off.

They ignored him as they continued to challenge one another with armored eyes.

"I thought you said you couldn't fight!" Geralt demanded.

"Of course, I can fight!" Ciri said defensively. She almost sounded offended.

"Oh really," said Geralt, knowing full well she was no more than a helpless lamb when he first found her. "Who taught you?"

Ciri opened her mouth, ready to deliver a scathing reply, but instead she froze, a look of confusion slowly overtaking her once sure expression, "I ... I don't remember."

"The witch did something to you Ciri." Geralt's rough voice softened to a whisper. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Her crystal blue eyes started to brim with tears as she shook her head. "No. It was water. Just water. I just fell and hit my head and now things are a little foggy. I'm still me …."