Chapter Four

~ Geralt ~

Fuck, I should have known the tincture would be too strong for her. Eliana had passed out, crumpling forward over herself. A finger at her throat ensured she still had a pulse, and so I continued cleansing her wounds.

Five open cuts inflicted by that man's whip. Two would need sutures. Did she possess other injuries apart from the welts at her throat? I wouldn't search her, not without her awake, consenting. But I needed her lying flat.

Gripping her shoulders, I eased her onto her stomach, re-arranging the cloak which had slipped, revealing worn underwear. That she still had them incited hope the dog or dogs who'd caught her hadn't laid a hand on her.

I bore scars, made no prettier by hasty sutures on the road. I took a care with hers, eyes still keen in the twilight, guided by the flicker of flames over her skin. By some good luck, she began to stir after I'd finished, while I was fetching a jar of balm.

"Stay there, I've sutured your back." She made to scramble up, gasping in pain. "Don't move, you have no shirt." I warned, and she stilled, canting her head to watch me. Hatred filled her fiery-blue eyes, along with the fear. I liked her better unconscious.

"What happened, what did you do to me?" She demanded, but the shake in her voice betrayed her. Did she not realise if I'd wanted to harm her, I would have by now, and easily?

"Some sutures. You passed out from the tincture. I warned you it would sting."

"Not that much." I nearly smirked at her grumbling reply.

"I'll apply a balm now, to seal the wounds. If you wish to sit up again, I'll turn around."

"Please." I spun on my heel, counting to ten, surprised by her manners. When I turned back, she was sitting, cloak covering her hips and front from view.

"I'll start at your right shoulder again." I settled behind her, dipping a fingertip into the tacky balm. She trembled at my touch but didn't flinch away as I covered the length of one cut, and then the next.

~ Eliana ~

The balm didn't hurt, it soothed. Strangely, so did his methodological movements. I was unused to feeling this weak and helpless. I hated it. Usually I was the one helping others, healing others.

Fingers threaded through my tangle of hair, sweeping it aside. "I'll treat where the rope burned your skin."

"Okay." I whispered through a tremor of fear. Fingers and thumbs had encircled my throat before choking off air, rendering me unconscious. I tried to hold still, but at the first brush of his fingers, I jolted sideways. He paused, making a low rumbling sound, then continued his ministrations. I could feel the rough pads of his fingers, but his touch was gentle, without ill intent. For now, a voice in my mind whispered.

"If you'll allow me to bandage your back, then we'll eat." Food. The very thought of it caused my hollow stomach to clench. I nodded, grabbing the shirt to cover my breasts, letting the cloak pool at my hips.

He made swift work of winding three lengths of clean cloth across my left shoulder, covering my chest with my help, to cover the worst of the lashes across my back.

"All done, you can put the shirt back on." Body bound, my movements were stiff, and by the time I'd tugged the shirt down to my knees, and wrapped the cloak around my shoulders, Geralt had packed away his healing kit, and a steaming bowl of some kind of broth awaited me, complete with a small hunk of bread and cheese. My mouth watered. This was more food than I'd eaten in one sitting in weeks.

"It's not much, but—"

"No, it is. Thank you." I lifted my head, meeting his gaze.

"Take it slow, if your stomach has shrunk, it will be unused to big meals. You'd know that though." He added, serving the same meal up for himself. So, he knew I had skills as a healer. I nodded, hunkering down on the simple delights before me.

My back hurt less for the balm and strapping, my stomach eased of its cramping for the warm food, but exhaustion once again crept up on me. Geralt had remained silent, putting things away in his packs, pulling other items out, and checking his horse.

Presently he knelt before me, those strange, golden eyes assessing against the firelight.

"How are you feeling? No longer cold?" I shook my head. The heat of the fire had infused right through to my bones. "Before you rest, I need you to tell me if you have any other injuries?"

"Only bruises, and light cuts and scrapes." He rumbled something unintelligible under his breath, confliction creasing his brow.

"And what of other violations? Did anyone lay a hand on you?" I stared at him, his question paralysing. Last time someone had asked me such a question, and I had answered truthfully, they'd checked to confirm. Was he going to? A disgruntled sigh whooshed through his pursed lips. "What I mean is, do you still have your, uh virtue?"

"No." I hurried out. The lie was an easy one to tell if it would make me less desirable. The slave traders had rejoiced in my innocence, stating men would pay triple to take it for themselves.

I knew I'd made the right choice when Geralt stood, turning his back, swearing under his breath.

"Was it the slave traders?" Did it matter? It did, I realised. He whirled back, golden eyes swirling in anger. It wasn't directed at me.

"N... no. Before, a boy, from home." His broad shoulders relaxed.

"Good." He seemed pleased by my answer, and I wondered if I'd needed to lie to him at all? "One more thing, I want you to drink this. It will ward off infection." He produced a small vial of a dull, orange liquid.

"What is it?" I had no desire to drink something I did not know the ingredients of.

"Something an old friend taught me to brew. An infusion of lemon, garlic bulb, ginger root, oregano leaf, and a few other herbs."

"Sounds delicious." He rumbled in amusement perhaps. Geralt uncorked the vial, and I took it, trusting him as I had trusted him treating my back. I downed the liquid in one go, nearly coughing the acidic mixture back up. He took the empty vial, pressing a waterskin into my hand. "You forgot to mention cider." I croaked out, after washing the disgusting potion down, to which the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Rest now." The tension in the air between us had vanished. Nodding, I eased onto my right side.

I had so many questions to ask him, including where we were, and why Petra had sent him. And what of Verden? Mostly, I wanted to know why a man perhaps several years, or a decade my senior, had hair like moonlight on snow and golden eyes which glowed wild like a forest wolf's? But I couldn't get my tongue to form the words. Had he drugged me? I made to sit up, to demand if he had, but my body was heavy, my eyelids heavier, closing of their own accord.

~ Geralt ~

With the girl tended to and now asleep, I braved the icy stream; stripping myself of a weeks' worth of dirt and grime, and the blood of today; A mixture of hers and the men I had killed to save her.

Food had warmed her a little towards me, but I dreaded the many days we'd spend on the road back to Verden. It didn't matter who'd seen me on roads in my search for her. Now I had her, I needed to keep her out of reach of Queen Fallon's men. There was a bounty on her head, a desirable reward to the man who brought the queen the girl's eyes. A horrific request, but a way to identify her, for they mirrored the King's. Did the usurper Queen not know of the Royal Mark of Verden? Did Eliana? I'd glimpsed it, shifting her hair to treat her neck, a small glint of gold hidden away behind her left ear.

Using a blade, I shaved away a weeks' worth of facial growth, then strode from the water. How the girl had tolerated the temperature so long was beyond me. Far off, a wolf howled, met by an answering call further away still. We'd be safe here for the night. I dried off, pulling my one other pair of clean trousers on. My undershirt I'd washed in the stream and would hang by the fire. Eliana had my spare. I should have had the sense to procure a dress or something in my travels for her.

A terrified cry shattered the night. Snatching up my silver blade, I raced towards the campfire on the other side of the overgrown stream.

She thrashed, tangled in my cloak, gasping and choking, crying out. "Shh, it's alright, it's alright." I pressed a hand to her shoulder, trying to wake her, or still her, I wasn't sure. Those ocean eyes snapped open, widening in horror. "It was only a dream." I ignored her disgust in me, continuing to calm her. If she kept up the crying out like an injured creature, we'd have the wolves at as within the hour.

"Don't hurt me."

I let out a sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you, but you need to be quiet. There are wolves out there." She blinked up at me, seeming to regain her surroundings.

"I'm, I'm sorry." She whispered. I gave her a single nod, pressed a hand swiftly to her forehead to check she had not gained a fever, to which she flinched, and retreated to the stream for my boots and washed shirt.

When I returned, she had fallen back to sleep. She had my one sleep-roll, and so I made do with a blanket and the pine-needles, lying on my back a few feet from her, letting the crackle and snap of firewood lull me into a half-slumber. The potion I had given Eliana would ensure a restless night as it worked through her blood and tormented her dreams, but it was the only way to ensure an infection would not take hold, and to speed up her healing.

The fire had burnt to embers when she stirred again, calling out for her mother, for the woman, Petra, for help.

"Shh, rest now, it's all right." I spoke low, voice thick with sleep, reaching across the distance to rest a hand on her shoulder once more. She was shaking. Rolling to my side to get closer, I placed my hand on her forehead. No fever, no sweat beading her skin, but she was cool to touch. The night had grown colder. The potion I'd given her was playing with her dreams, and I could only imagine the terrors.

"No, no, no, no…"

"Shh—"

"No, no!" She shot upright, shouting. Fuck, she'd call down the entire wolf pack at this rate to finish us off.

"Eliana, listen to me, it's only a dream." Her unfocused eyes blinked in my direction, her body shaking, swaying.

"You, your eyes are gold." She mumbled.

"Yeah." Make me stand out as different, just like yours. Except I'm hated for mine, by people like you. I didn't say the rest aloud.

"Where am I?" She swayed violently, swiveling her head about.

"You're in the woods, where it's safe." I touched her shoulder, instead finding my fingers tangled in her hair. Despite still trembling beneath my touch, she stilled.

"Your eyes were black, now they are gold." She mumbled more to herself.

"Yeah." I admitted. No wonder she had called me a monster, she'd seen what I could be.

"They are nicer gold." She was slumping, sleep pulling her under once more. I eased her back down onto her side, sliding my fingers through her hair, loosening snagged tresses. She let out a sigh, bordering on contentment, and so I repeated the action, running my fingers through her soft hair, gently working the tangles loose, over and over, long after she had fallen into a peaceful sleep.

Toss a coin to your Witcher, if you enjoyed this chapter.

Questions and comments welcome.

blasttyrant - Ah hahaha, that is gold! I've been singing Lullaby of Woe all week as well. I freaking love that song! Glad you enjoyed the update. :)

XxXLIFEafterDeathXxX - Thanks! It is, especially when people gang up on him, alienating him. Eliana's a smart girl, she's just scared and hurting, and has reason not to trust him.