The brunette woke due to the chilly air whipping against the skin of her face. As she regained all of her senses, she realized that she was being carried on something.

She opened her eyes, adjusting them to the grey sky that was above her. As she looked around without moving, she realized she was on the same horse she had found in the swamp.

That's when she felt the muscular, rock-like build behind her, whom she was leaning back against. She could see his white hair peeking out from the dark cloak he wore.

She sprang upward, turning her head to look up at him. The man seemed just as surprised as she was.

"Where am I?" She asked him.
"Does it matter?" He asked her, his eyes drifting away from her own. "You're safe."

She shivered violently and ran her hands up her arms. The dress she wore was covered in damp mud, freezing her more.

She moaned as her head ached dully.

"You lost a lot of blood." He muttered. "Sit still."

The woman did what she was told. She didn't want to disobey the man with two swords on his back.

Her eyebrows skewed.

Two swords!

She looked back up at him again. "The swords, the white hair. . . The strength. . . You're one of them."

He hummed again. "You forgot mutant."

She shook her head. "You're the witcher."

The witcher smiled briefly. "So, you are in your right mind. . . While you were asleep, you couldn't figure out who I was."

She didn't respond.

When a village came into view, she clenched her jaw tightly.

"No,"

She tried to flee from the horse, but the witcher gripped her arm. She peered up at him, noticing the glare he wore on his face.

"I can't go in there." She said, shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. "It's too close— someone will recognize me."

"Recognize you from where?" He asked her. The brunette released a shaky breath.

"Please," was all she said.

She felt goosebumps rise upon her skin as his arm wound around her waist, to keep her tact. "You'll tell me when we arrive. I need a drink."

The village was dirty, but filled with people from all over. When they entered the main gates, the witcher told Roach— the horse, to keep moving.

"At least tell me your name." The witcher said in her ear as they passed staring villagers. She hugged herself as she looked down.

"Victoria."

The villagers watched as they rode through, and Roach neared a small inn on the corner. The horse came to a stop, and the witcher slid off.

The brunette slid off, not seeming to realize she had a hold of the witcher's arms, while he had a hold of her waist. She stared up at him for a moment, wondering how a witcher could hold such beauty.

The witcher reached over her shoulder, and pulled something from the back of Roach's pack.

"Put this on." He demanded. It was a black throw, what she assumed he used when traveling to keep warm.

She wrapped the blanket around her, draping it over her head.

"Will you tell me your name?" Victoria asked.
"Geralt." He replied.

As Geralt opened the door, they both stepped inside before Geralt closed the door with an unintentional thud.

She stayed behind him as they entered. The crowd of people that buzzed with conversation fell silent immediately once they realized who was in their presence.

He walked towards the counter and placed the small piece of parchment that he held onto the wood. Victoria sank down into the seat beside him, rubbing her hands together as she tried to warm up.

"What will it be?" The woman asked.
Geralt pointed at the parchment. "Point me to the alderman's house."

"It's down the alley to the left—"
"Isadora."

Victoria turned her head as a man appeared beside the woman, staring at her coldly. She could tell that Geralt always seemed to have an unwelcoming greeting.

"We don't want your kind here, Witcher." He said to Geralt.

"The alderman. Tell me where he is and I'll be on my way."

Victoria gasped as she was pulled from the chair. She looked up to see one of the men staring at Geralt.

"You don't give the orders around here, you mutant son of a bitch." One said.

"Leave this one here, and you go on ahead." The man said as he tightened his hand  around Victoria's arm. She stared at Geralt in hopes that he would save her again.

The witcher turned his head and glared at them.

"Hear that? Go. On your own or at the end of a rope. Your choice."

A smirk crossed the witcher's face. "Not a hard choice. But her. . ."

Geralt turned around and tilted his chin at Victoria.

"She stays with me."

"Yeah, fuck that. Kill him with your bare hands if you have to."

Victoria swallowed as more men stood from the inn tables. She stared at Geralt in a panic, but he remained calm and unnerved. She knew he was not fearful of a bunch of humans. What she was fearful of, was him leaving her.

The brunette yelped as the man pushed her forward, and she grabbed the counter immediately. She turned around, quickly sliding out of the way until she was a decent two feet behind Geralt.

"C'mon, Witcher. You're not scared of us, are you? Show us what you've got."

"Can you not leave it alone for a moment?"
Victoria turned around and found herself staring at a young woman who had spoken to the antagonizing men. Victoria adjusted the blanket that was draped over her head.

"Witchers can't be trusted."
"I'm not speaking to you." She snapped. Her eyes traveled back to Geralt, before looking to Victoria.

"I apologize for my man's interference in your day. . . Hopefully he can improve his behavior by tomorrow's market."

"Sorry, Renfri. Come on, lads."

Victoria inhaled as they walked back to their tables. She faced the bar, staring down at her shaking hands that were folded before her.

"Beers for my friends here, and one for me." Renfri said to the innkeeper.

Victoria slid off of the stool, stopping when Geralt reached out and grabbed her arm tightly. She sent him a weary look, but it was overshadowed by his dominant effect.

"I need to clean myself." She said. Geralt's gold eyes scanned the room until he saw the loo across the room.

"I'll be waiting." He said to her darkly. Victoria walked away as he released her arm, and hurried towards the bathroom.

When she entered, she hurried inside and stood before the sinks. She ran her hands beneath the water and scrubbed at her skin, eyeing the dirt caked underneath her fingernails, to the dried blood on the quick of most of her nails.

Her breath came and gone. Her chest felt heavy, and the room was starting to spin. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady each breath.

"You can't hide. . ."

Victoria pulled her hands from the running Spicket, and placed her hands over her ears. The sound of his voice caused her to stumble backwards.

"You can't run. . ."

She caught sight of something moving within the mirror. Victoria moved forward, staring at the figure.

It was her father.

Victoria gasped as he reached out to her violently, but she refused to let him take her away. She tightened her hand into a fist, and punched the mirror roughly. As it shattered and fell into the sink, the brunette bit down on her lip as pain shot through her hand.

She stuffed her hands beneath the blanket and exited the bathroom.