"Yes, yes, I recall it's a story of long ago," the seer said, washing down the pie the Witcher had brought him with a swallow of mead. "Toderas was all wiped out, almost no one left. A couple of bands teamed together, yes. Some managed to escape, others were murdered, women ravished. The few refugees came here, we aided them, and they stayed, settled. This place is chilly and windy, but good people live here, and they stayed."

"Was there a blind woman among them?" Geralt asked.

He hemmed, racking his memory, chewing. "No blind woman came to live here, no. I've heard of one... living down there around them bogs. But no more I know, White Wolf."

"I've been to Toderas," Geralt sighed, rubbing his neck. The cold wind was blowing directly on it. "No one remembers anything about that attack."

"Of course," the old seer nodded. "Happened too many winters ago, a generation ago. You'll have better luck asking west of them bogs. Rumor says there was a wise woman there. Thank you for the treat, Witcher. As thanks, I can invite you under my roof for the night. There might be rain..." He sniffed the air and took another sip.

Geralt raised his eyes to the few clouds in the starry sky, and nodded, "Thank you, old man. Only until the dawn."

Kain roused Ciri early at dawn; the horses were outside nipping at the grass.

"We'll have to ride to Oreton and Drudge," he said, "after meeting Geralt in Lindenvale for breakfast."

Ciri was reluctant to wake. It was warm and cozy in the hay. So much, in fact, she was willing to forgive the odd strand poking her in the back.

She peered out the open barn door and groaned, sitting up to reclaim her jerkin. "I find it hard to believe Geralt will make it in time. He always berates me for waking him when the sun is not yet high in the sky."

"When he's on a mission? Hardly."

He picked the chain with the lock and went outside. The sun was barely beginning to shine from behind the trees.

Ciri got dressed and gathered her weapons, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she followed Kain outside to the horses.

"I'm telling you – he's a grumpy riser."

She climbed atop Kelpie who objected to being pulled away from her breakfast with a snort.

"Then he'll catch up," Kain said, locking the barn. He hid the key where he'd found it and went to Onyx. They rode out and accelerated along the country road.

Kelpie shot off at a great speed without Ciri's insistence, as if she wanted a good run. Ciri didn't mind. She preferred going fast. Even if it put them at risk of colliding with oncoming horses or pedestrians. Luckily, not many people roamed the roads this early.

"Been here, aye, the Witcher," the innkeeper said. "Said ye'd find him, so left no note or anything. Ye gonna have breakfast? We have pancakes with honey or fresh berries and apple cider."

Kain nodded a yes and returned to Ciri who settled at a table. Almost all of them were empty at this hour except for a gravedigger finishing his meal in the other corner of the tavern.

"So much for Geralt sleeping in," Kain teased, sitting down.

Ciri had managed to hear their conversation from where she sat.

"Strange. Do you think he's in some kind of trouble?"

"No, probably merely in a hurry to get to Drudge. We'll catch up easily - Roach hates galloping for long stretches of the road."

Ciri rested her chin in her palm. "You've gotten to know his mount as well? Not bad." Not many would have bothered. "Can you feel him? Geralt, I mean. Could you find him if you needed to?"

He pondered, watching a yawning maid tying an apron around her waist. "If I needed to - yes, I believe I could."

"Because you share blood? Or because you have become friendly?"

Kain shrugged, "I don't know, could be both and either."

"Blood helps. It's how I was able to find you in the Crones' dimension."

Ciri leaned back in her seat and, after a moment, plucked out the beacon nestled in her bosom, examining Lara's silhouette.

Curiosity flickered in his gaze. "Elder Blood, you mean?"

"Geralt's blood. Combined with my own."

He nodded in acknowledgment, his face thoughtful. "And how did you defeat the Crones?"

Ciri looked up from the carving of Lara. "I already told you. At the temple of Melitele. Don't you remember?"

"Tell me again," he smiled slightly.

"We fought. With sword and magic. Yennefer and I eventually got you out so we could close your wounds." Ciri slipped the beacon back into its hiding place. "Yennefer surmised that in order to close the gate to their dimension, the tapestry soaked in their magic, we would have to destroy the dimension itself. From the inside.

"So I went back in for Geralt who was still fighting them. I conjured up all the strength I had within me and began to take the dimension apart, piece by piece. Just before it collapsed entirely, I grabbed Geralt and got out."

It was amazing to imagine, and yet, after her outburst he remembered from Kaer Morhen, it wasn't all that impossible.

And yet...

Kain felt a little worm of either doubt or foreboding wiggle in his gut and asked: "Your power was enough to bring down the whole dimension with three Crones in it?" Even after they'd taken so much of my blood, his mind added.

Ciri squinted in thought, trying to remember. "It was at first. But towards the end I was getting tired," she said, imagining herself the way it had happened. "So I drew on the power of nature."

"I see..."

He was mulling it over when the sleepy maid brought their pancakes and cider. She smiled and winked at Kain before heading back for honey and berries. Kain returned the smile with a 'thank you'.

Ciri followed the maid's retreat with her gaze, feeling nothing but disgust at the brazen wench's obvious flirting.

Lucky for her, Ciri'd stopped at a look.

Ciri pulled her plate towards her and began eating, suddenly in a sour mood.

Kain cast furtive glances at her while she ate, turning her story this way and that in his head. He couldn't quite grasp whether there was something funny with it or he was merely being paranoid.

"What do you think was the nature of the relationship between that old woman and the Crones?" he asked her after a while of silence, dipping his pancake in honey.

"Thecla?" Ciri asked and thought on it a moment. "Seemed to me she was just another loyal worshipper willing to send young sacrifices to their deaths."

"She seemed to have been more privileged than other worshippers. I wonder what earned her that place."

"Privileged? Why do you say that?"

"She was deciding who would see the Ladies," he reasoned. "Doesn't it seem like a privileged position to you?"

"Deciding who gets to die. Who would end up in their stew." Ciri shook her head. "Seems an awful task to me. More like a punishment, really."

"Did you get an impression of her suffering?"

"No." Ciri cut a piece of her breakfast with her fork. "Think she's a witch as well?"

"Not necessarily. But she had the sight - that much was clear. If they granted any other powers to her, she hadn't revealed them to us."

Ciri chewed in silence, then swallowed. "If they gave her powers, do you think they have gone now they're dead?"

"Anna was cursed by them, and that curse has lifted." He sent the last piece of pancake into his mouth, chewing.

"Doubt she'll be willing to talk much if we do find her. If she knows we are at fault for the Crones' demise, that is."

Kain raised an eyebrow. "Think she knows it was you?"

"I think she'd be able to put two and two together. We asked for access to Bald Mountain on the eve of the Sabbath. By morning, two of the Crones were dead. As was Imlerith." Ciri pushed her empty plate away.

Kain finished his cider and got up. "The question is, what became of her now that they all are gone."

Ciri followed, adjusting her sword on her back as they headed for the door. "Let's see if we can find out. Where to first?"

"Depends on where Geralt is." He tossed her a sly smirk over his shoulder. "Lead the way."

She didn't point out how Kain had said he could probably locate Geralt on his own by now, and instead simply focused on her connection with the Witcher. It would have been quicker and easier to teleport them all there, but she doubted that's what Kain would want.

Considering Ciri was not really all that familiar with the area, she had no idea where she was leading them in a gallop. All she knew was that she was taking them in Geralt's direction and that it wouldn't be all that long until they found him.

Kain recognized the direction she took - toward Drudge, a small village on the bank of the lake. Fyke Isle sat in the middle of the lake like an abandoned beacon, clearly visible from every side of the coastal line. The sun was in its zenith when they trotted toward the houses. The village was bathing in golden sunlight and warmth, people were walking about, fishermen working on their boats, some were preparing their nets; everybody was waiting for the sun to begin its decline and some drop of heat.

Geralt was sitting on a log near the water with some elderly man, conversing.

Kain and Ciri caught his eye, then went for a stroll along the shore waiting for him.

"Looks like he hasn't had more luck than us," Ciri said, eyeing Geralt from afar.

"That man is telling him something," Kain observed. "Maybe it will be of some use." He glanced over the lake, inhaling its scent with the light breeze worrying its waters. "It's nice here."

"And here I assumed you wouldn't like Velen much after the Crone ordeal." Ciri took his hand in hers, keeping hold of it while they wandered the edge of the lake.

A faint jolt zapped through Kain's hand when she touched him, but he didn't yank it away. "I'm not fond of the bog. But here it feels better."

"Certainly smells better," Ciri agreed, casting another glance in Geralt's direction to gauge his progress. "Do you think he will ever be able to get his memories back?"

Kain lowered to sit in the grass overlooking the water. "I believe he would, but it would take time, and Yennefer is not the most patient person."

"She's trying very hard not to push him." Ciri sat down beside him, picking at a few blades of grass.

"It's hard for her, getting harder every day, and it shows now. Other sorceresses sense it, and it only fuels her discomfort."

"And they are ready to pounce," Ciri snorted.

Kain simpered. "People want what they want. Sorceresses like to flirt, especially when something can be gained."

"They should be careful. Yennefer is not to be trifled with. I would have thought they'd known that by now."

"You've so much faith in Yennefer, and yes, truly, she is powerful. But even the most powerful ones have their limits. Especially if a few other powerful mages team up against them. The Lodge is a team. And she is on her own."

Ciri frowned, taken aback. "You think the whole Lodge wants to shag Geralt? In... unison?"

Kain chuckled. "Not everything is about Geralt, Ciri. The Lodge and Yennefer always find themselves on the opposite sides. And the Lodge keeps doing everything in their power to demonstrate how they can get everything they want. If Geralt is the means of manipulating Yennefer, they will use it."

"Then they are idiots. They underestimate her," Ciri said. "They don't know the lengths Yennefer is willing to go to for her loved ones."

"Underestimating the Lodge and their power is silly," Kain reasoned.

"I expected you to catch up sooner," Geralt said, approaching. "Something kept you?"

"Breakfast," Kain said. "Any news?"

"They say she lived here for a while, but some time ago moved to some secluded place this old man doesn't know about. We'll have to find women who went to her for help, but they usually keep it a secret."

"The women from this village?" Ciri asked.

"Here and Oreton, and Lindenvale, too, I would guess," Geralt said. "She was known around. Only where to find her now barely anyone knows."

"Then maybe we need a woman in need of help to ask other women," Kain said.

"Me?" Ciri blinked, glancing down at herself before giving a shrug. "I suppose I could have become in the... family way."

Geralt considered her. "Might work in Oreton, where no one's seen you."

"And if you dye your hair," Kain added.

"Ugh." Smearing mud on her hair again? Ciri was not pleased. "You know, I'd wager those women would crack under torture very easily. Even the promise of pain may be enough..."

Both witchers stared at her, speechless, neither able to determine whether she was jesting or not.

Judging by how both men looked, Ciri assumed they did not like her idea.

"Fine." She threw her hands up, mildly annoyed. "Find me some of that quality mud then."

They stopped in a forest halfway to Oreton to get the clay and berries, then Ciri washed her hair in the lake and sported a reddish-brown color that could have fooled even those who glimpsed her before.

They sent her into the village on Roach, because Kain stated that Kelpie was too noticeable, and Ciri needed to appear humbled by her issues.

"She was joking," Geralt murmured as they watched her ride toward the fishermen village. It wasn't a question, and yet there was a need to be comforted by a confirmation.

"I don't think she was," Kain responded.

Geralt's face darkened. When she was out of sight, he peered at the Cat Witcher. "What is with her?"

He shrugged. "She's constantly angry and defensive. And I don't yet know the reason. We've been to the bog, burned the orphanage barn. Then went to the tree. The flooded cave under the hill had ice in it."

He told Geralt about their findings, and the Witcher listened, deep in thought, watching the lake waters.

"How do you think we can locate other beacons?" he asked.

"We'll need a map and a pendulum made of crystal," Kain suggested. "That's the simplest way. I'm sure Yennefer would have her own ideas, as well as Avallac'h."

"You want to ask Avallac'h?"

"It might not be a good idea. We better try to resolve this on our own."

"Hmm."

They were silent for a while, both thinking of the same issues.

"It's strange that it's hard to find a blind woman that's not a witch," Geralt mused eventually. "Why would an old blind woman - even if she has a daughter or someone to aid her - live alone and away from people?"

"A quirk of a seer or..." Kain squinted at him meaningfully, "she has something to hide."

"Like what?"

"Magic she actually has?"

Geralt scowled and thought it over.

"Maybe I should visit another seer to clear it up."

Kain regarded him shrewdly. "And ask about Ciri? Perhaps you should."

"Hmm... And what of your elf friend? You said she has gifts."

"I suppose she needs to see Ciri or hold something of hers."

"The latter can be easier, given your fight about her."

"I'll see what I can do when we're back in Novigrad. Where is that Pellar?"

"West from the Crow's Perch."

"You need an excuse and something of Ciri's."

Geralt chortled sardonically and ran a hand through his hair. What could be simpler?

Ciri had expected her mission to be simple. True, women who had something to hide were tightlipped about the keepers of their secrets. And yet, normal women with normal lives tended to live in fear. Fear of their drunken husbands, fear for the future of their children, fear of where their next meal would come from. Especially in war times. People were easier to buy then.

But the first two women Ciri encountered and asked for help, had shot her down immediately. They wanted nothing to do with her at all and hurried away with looks of disgust on their faces.

The third was a failure as well, and despite how discreet Ciri had been, the men started to notice.

Only when their rude and inappropriate comments grew louder and bolder, did Ciri find her luck.

An older woman bustled out of her small hut and ushered Ciri inside, glaring over her shoulder at the men with a look that burned. As though the older woman held a maternal position in their hearts, the men ceased their shouting and went back to work, slightly abashed.

Ciri informed the woman, who called herself Bertha, that she had become pregnant with her lover's child. A child that would not be accepted by her parents, and would ensure no man would ever want to make her his wife. In other words – complete ruin.

She mentioned she knew of another girl from her village who had been in a similar predicament and who had received help taking care of the problem from an old wise woman.

Bertha, though sympathetic to Ciri's plight, did not give up the location of a certain cut-wife. Not until Ciri burst into tears and hysterics. The older woman gathered a scrap of paper and some coal from her fireplace and drew down a rough map of where the cut-wife's hut could be found. It wasn't far from town but would be hard to come by on one's own as it was surrounded by thick trees and rested in a hallow near a small river.

Though the description was vague, Ciri returned to the witchers with the belief they would be able to find the place. Eventually.

She slipped off Roach's back, eager to reunite with Kelpie, and handed the scrap of paper to Geralt. "West of here. Shouldn't be far."

The Witcher studied the makeshift map, scratching his stubbled cheek. "Seems like a lonely hut in the woods. Very well." He looked at her with mock concern. "No women tortured for this?"

"I don't cut and tell," Ciri responded with a sly smile. "Into the forest we go then?"

The day and night passed sluggishly for Yennefer, as if she'd been stuck in the library for a full week and knew every conceivable volume locked on its shelves. Her eyes stung, her hair had lost its usual bounce and her stomach was crying out for attention. She hadn't even slept in her bed the night before.

She hadn't done anything like that since her first days of learning magic.

She reveled in the solitude, in the distraction the barrage of information-gathering had offered her, eating it up until she'd made enough notes on spare parchments. There had been a lot of notes, a lot of rumors and legends told, factors she'd wilted down with deductive reasoning and commonalities. There were only two. Skellige and Elven ruins.

A good thing they'd already decided to go there.

After deciding she'd found all the legible information Oxenfurt had to offer on the Sunstone, she folded the parchments and tucked them against her body for safekeeping finally making her way back to the inn. When she entered the Three Little Bells, there was a cheerful gathering in full swing, couples moving across the dance hall fluidly, others biting down on whatever was on the menu, singing along or playing Gwent. Considering everything that had happened in Oxenfurt two weeks ago, it was interesting to see how the survivors had picked themselves up and moved on.

No one appeared to have a care in the world and the atmosphere was warm and welcome.

Her gaze fell on Dandelion in the middle of the crowd, spinning the girl, whose clinic Yennefer had repaired, around beneath his arm, carrying her across the floor as if they were flying. No wonder Dandelion had been reluctant to leave Oxenfurt for Novigrad. This kind of cheer hadn't reached there yet—that she'd seen in its full extent. Most were still too nervous about the Wild Hunt and others were even more on edge after the chaos that had happened at the bank. Even in Oxenfurt, it had made the news gossips. Only its people were more thrilled about that fact, taking it as a sign that the Wild Hunt might have moved on from Oxenfurt and would stick to their earlier threats of destroying Novigrad.

If only they knew.

Yennefer watched the dancers a few moments longer and then headed in search of a table.

"Yennefer!" Shani called merrily over the music, tugging Dandelion behind her over to the sorceress' table. She was slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed. "Come join us!"

Dandelion snorted, the idea apparently ludicrous to him.

"Gladly," Yennefer responded, claiming the troubadour's hand before he could resist, dragging him back onto the dancefloor and into a practiced motion. "Given you weren't able to find time to help me research, the least you could do is try to amuse me with your negligible footwork."

"I helped!" Dandelion protested, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled away. "I offered much-needed insight into your and Geralt's situation."

He eyed Yennefer as though she was a bear ready to clobber him with clawed paws should he step on her toes, awkwardly allowing his hand to hover over her narrow waist as they began to sway.

"And it was invaluable," Yennefer retorted unenthusiastically, drawing in closer once Dandelion had conceded to defeat, even letting him take the lead. "Will you still be returning to Novigrad with me tomorrow?"

He grimaced, trying to be subtle and failed. "Is there truly such a need for me there?"

"None that I can see. Zoltan is coping with the Inn. I'm just surprised that you seem to be going out of your way to avoid returning to Novigrad. Is it the heroic exalting that has you trapped here or do you have something on your mind?"

"I confess, having the sorceresses of The Lodge under my roof does not exactly make me feel easy," the bard said, gently twirling Yennefer under his arm and back. "And then..." He looked hesitant to continue but eventually did. "Ciri has been acting strange lately. Don't you think?"

Was Ciri really part of the reason he didn't want to return to the inn? What could she possibly have said that frightened him or made him that uncomfortable that he couldn't broach Geralt about it?

"Did she threaten you?"

"No!" Dandelion exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. "No, it was nothing like that. But the last time we spoke, she was just so angry. And accused us all of smothering her with our affections. That we were holding her back. I've never heard her speak like that before."

He watched Yennefer cautiously, not too eager to meet her intense gaze now they were so close. "Has she said anything of the sort to you?"

"She has," Yennefer replied, deciding that there was no need to keep that truth to herself. "I believe she is having a hard time trying to reconcile where her life is going with the Wild Hunt breathing down her neck. She's under a lot of pressure."

"She's always been under a lot of pressure," Dandelion argued. "But she's never acted like this before." He lowered his voice so Yennefer would be the only one to hear. "She was even speaking of torment and how if it became necessary she was more than capable of executing it herself."

"To what was she referring when she said that? To you? In the torment of smothering her or simply meting it out?"

"Her enemies. Or if information was needed," Dandelion shuddered at the thought. "Shani thinks it might be lingering trauma. But I don't know, Yennefer. She seems different now from when we first reunited."

"A lot has happened since then," Yennefer excused. She wasn't going to enlighten him about the bank. "Are you frightened of her?"

"No." Dandelion spun her once more, his face contemplative as he pulled Yennefer back into his arms. "But she made me feel uncomfortable. I worry I will say the wrong thing. Something that sets her off."

"I can sympathize with that sentiment," Yennefer said, lulled into a false sense of comfort while they danced. She didn't have too many that she could confide in, anymore, and although she and Geralt did talk about Ciri, it still made Yennefer feel alone at times as she knew he was holding back. "I had a moment like that with her at the temple. We were talking about Kain and then the next moment she was accusing me of being too deeply invested in her business. This from a girl who for months plied me with bold question after question about intimacy. Who shared most of her secrets with me."

"My point exactly!" Dandelion cried, pleased that someone was agreeing with his concerns. "I thought those temper-fits should have ended in the adolescent years."

"I don't believe she's been allowed to have those adolescent years yet, do you?"

"So we should expect more behavior like this in the future? How am I supposed to act around her now she's made it clear she doesn't appreciate my affection?" Dandelion put a hand over his heart, truly feeling betrayed.

She felt a similar way after her own unintentional verbal altercations with Ciri.

"I wish I could tell you. All I can advise is that you be patient – it could be that once we've taken care of the Wild Hunt that'll it'll change, that she'll be able to settle and accept that she's safe."

"And if she doesn't?"

"She will. I'll do everything in my power to help her through it," Yennefer stated, reducing their movement until they stopped. She placed her hand over his. "As will Geralt. I know you will, too. You've never been the type to give up on a pretty girl."

Dandelion puffed out his chest like a proud peacock.

"Quite right!" he declared. "Once this is all over we will remind Ciri of the pleasures of life. Starting with a performance of my works. She has always admired them."

"She has. I remember your works being one of the first books she chose to read for her own enjoyment," Yennefer added, gifting him a ghost of a smile as she remembered those nights reading together, indulging in the fanciful poems and light of interest in her daughter's eyes. She'd had so much hope then, so much love and fire. As of late Ciri seemed to be nothing less than an inferno.

"I thank you for the dance, Troubadour, but I'm to eat, get as much wine in me as I can, and enjoy some fresh air. I expect, come the morning, you'll be joining me." Before he could answer, she pressed a hand to his clothed chest, patting lightly, leaning in since a few eyes had been studying the two while they danced so she could speak against his ear. "You should safely make the best of this night and all its offerings."

With that in mind, she left him to enjoy the music and the conversation from the young woman who'd immediately taken over her position and stepped into his view.

"Yennefer!" Dandelion called, attempting to pry himself loose of the grasp of adoring women.

"Please, ladies, no touching my lute! Oh, that is not my lute!"

A yelp escaped the bard as he hurried across the floor towards Yennefer, leaving a small group of pouting maidens in his wake.

"Yennefer, I have had the honor of being invited to one of the magnificent Vegelbund soirees later this evening. Would you care to join me? If anything, it will help take your mind off Geralt and Ciri. There is not much we can do until they return, anyhow."

Yennefer weighed the option of an early night, a book—even though she was tired of reading—and the challenge of normalcy Dandelion had unexpectedly presented. She hadn't had a night like that in a very long time. She'd tried but all attempts seemed to have ended in some kind of disorder.

"I'd be delighted," Yennefer said after what felt like a lengthy pause, her lips twitching slightly. "Although greatly unprepared for such an event. I expect you've requested something appropriate from the tailor?"

"Of course! They are crafting me something in a regal purple." Dandelion sighed happily at the thought, absentmindedly stroking the feather in his cap until his gaze landed on Yennefer again.

"Can't you simply-" he flailed his arms in dramatic motions for emphasis, "-conjure yourself a gown?"

"I could," Yennefer agreed. She wouldn't. It was one thing for her to use magic to make Ciri armour that she'd wear all the time, it was another using it to make a lavish dress for one night's use. "Where is this soiree to be held or can I expect you'll meet me here like a gentleman?"

"It is being held at the Vegelbund mansion here in town. The family usually resides in Novigrad but has apparently come to cheer up their friends and business partners here in Oxenfurt." Dandelion's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and appreciation. "And what better way than a party? With music and women and good food and drink and women..." He drifted off for a split second, then shook back into reality to focus on Yennefer anew. "I will, of course, meet you here and escort you to the soiree, Lady Yennefer."

He bowed low, an impish but charming grin on his face.

Yennefer replicated the courtesy with a light but playful bow of her head. "Tonight then," she said in goodbye, continuing in search of food and then upstairs for coin.

The hut was covered with wild ivy and mold on the outside and abandoned inside. There were a few boxes, some dusty empty sacks, a shattered bottle - also covered in a thick layer of dust, and a couple of wooden bed carcasses. There was a shelf on the wall, hanging askance, and another was on the floor - obviously fallen down at some point. There were no prints of traces on the even gray layer of dust covering every surface. Multiple spider webs moved subtly under the gusts of air from the open door.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Geralt said, studying the floor. "It's been empty for months. And we've seen that crone on the Bald Mountain. She had to live somewhere all this time."

"Perhaps we can pick up a trace," Kain murmured, crouching in front of one of the bed frames. He swept his fingers over the dust, then took a hold of the wooden balk and closed his eyes, focusing.

Ciri watched Kain closely while he concentrated, then eventually looked to Geralt, speaking in a whisper. "How do you track your prey when you don't have mages with you?"

"There's always a trail to follow, always something that remains," he said. "But tracking humans who left months ago... It's a bit outside of my competence."

"Mine, too," Ciri admitted, moving about the hut while Kain worked, nudging some fallen debris aside with her boot.

Kain rose and rifted a piece of the bed frame off. "This hut wasn't initially theirs," he told the two who watched him in slight bewilderment. "The energy is faint and mixed with others who slept on this bed. But I saw something... I might be able to recognize the place if I see it. It's somewhere on the lake bank."

"How are you going to search?" Geralt asked.

"With this," Kain showed the piece of wood, "and my eyes. I saw that image from the lake, as though from a boat. So I'll need one."

"Then let us go to the lake. If we're to find a boat, it will be there." Ciri strode out of the hut, already bored with the new developments of the mission. She couldn't see any importance in finding the old hag.

But Geralt and Kain thought different.

"Maybe she's dead," Geralt said to Kain once they were alone.

"And the younger one?"

"Left for a better place."

Kain sighed. "We can drop it, then. Head back to Novigrad."

"Not before I find out what's with Ciri." Geralt reached into his pouch and showed Kain a piece of white cloth, so small one could merely wrap around his pinky. Kain stared in mute question, and he nodded. "Cut it off when she turned away to mount."

"Then go to the Pellar," Kain said and gave him the wood splinter. "I'll take her back and see if she'll agree to visit my elf friend."

They walked out and found Ciri a few yards away with the horses. She and Kelpie were looking at each other: the horse seemed wary, with her ears pricked, and Ciri pensive.

"I suppose we can forget the old wench if she doesn't want to be found," Geralt said. "You two can go back and I'll visit an old fellow who helped me before. Want to see if he's still doing fine."

Ciri looked between the witchers, befuddled. "What? We came all this way to find her. And after the first obstacle, you give up?"

Geralt spread his arms, "It's not the first place we came looking. Maybe she died and no one knew. We'll have to be satisfied with having seen Anna. She healed and it means the Crones are gone."

"If there are more attacks, we'll look into it," Kain added. "For now finding her will hardly clear anything up."

Ciri's eyes narrowed. "And you don't want to know the cause of the earlier attacks? It was so important to you a few days ago."

Ciri didn't much care either way, but she found it strange that the witchers had suddenly changed their minds. Perhaps their adventures weren't as amusing with Ciri in tow.

"It is important," the Witcher agreed. "But the trail is cold - you see it yourself. Maybe it's just the beasts going wild because of the changes."

"The only thing left is to look around the Bald Mountain," said Kain.

"Might as well take a gander while we're in the area," Ciri said, reaching for Kelpie to hoist herself up into the saddle. "The old hag was nearby last we saw her, anyhow."

"We'll be fine," Kain told Geralt. "You go visit that old man. We'll meet you back home."

The Witcher considered it carefully, then conceded. "Be extra careful there," he said. "Don't rush into any fights if there is anything suspicious going on." He looked pointedly at Ciri. "Hear me?"

"We do," Kain said, hopping onto Onyx's back.

Ciri made no promises. She only smiled.

They watched Geralt and Roach take off in the opposite direction, then set out on their own journey.

"Look at Geralt making friends," she commented.

"He made a few friends while looking for you," Kain said.

"He told you about them?" Ciri asked, swallowing subtly. She knew some of them had died, just like the 'friends' Ciri herself had made on her journeys.

She didn't think Geralt blamed her for that. But she was also acutely aware that those who had joined the witcher during his search, may have met a kinder fate had they chosen not to.

"Zoltan is one of such friends. There was also that Nilfgaardian young man who was in love with you."

Ciri clenched her jaw, her whole body suddenly rife with tension.

She snorted. "He wasn't in love. He plucked me up from underneath a corpse when I was a child, while Cintra was burning all around us. He never got to know me. He was not in love. He simply needed a mission."

"It's hard to know what's in someone else's soul," Kain mused.

"You know nothing," Ciri scowled. "You weren't there."

She squeezed Kelpie's flanks encouragingly and sent the mare into a gallop.

Back in Drudge, they were about to get in the boat one of the local fishermen lent them when a frantic rider burst into the peaceful landscape of the village.

It was a frightened woman, so scared she seemed delirious. She couldn't speak at once, and a group of women cooed over her, bringing water and soothing until she found her wits.

She was from Lurtch, and it was attacked by ghouls and wild beasts. She escaped by a miracle - she was returning from the river bank with one of the three horses the village owned. She turned around and galloped away while wolves and dogs (and gods know what else, as she put it) gave chase.

"Please, please," she begged, rocking back and forth on the bench, her eyes anxiously sweeping among the people surrounding her, "please, help! They all stuck in them homes! Them beasts will get in! Mah old pop! Them beasts will rip 'em apart! Please! Please!"

"Bald Mountain should wait, I would guess," Kain said, looking to Ciri.

Ciri, hands on her hips, eyed the raving woman with cold annoyance. "I suppose that is what's expected," she retorted, abandoning her task of untying the boat, leaving it secured to the dock.

Onyx and Kelpie weren't far, so they didn't need to walk long to catch up to the two mounts. "Another effect of the Crones' death, you think?"

"I don't know what to think yet," Kain confessed, snapping his fingers for Onyx. The stallion trotted to him readily. "There's only one way to find out."

"Let us get it over with quickly," Ciri said, urging Kelpie onwards into a gallop once ready.

Why people seemed unable to do anything but hide and cower in the face of danger, she also didn't know. It was pathetic, really. How had they all survived this long without witchers roaming the countryside?