Chapter Text
Humming to yourself, you bent down to pick the herbs you needed to make your potion. Standing up, you put the small petals in your basket before turning to look for the next plant you needed. It was then that you saw the animal standing on the other side of the clearing. You froze in fear, staring at the giant white wolf that suddenly appeared as if out of thin air, as it looked back at you with golden eyes. Do I run? It hasn’t moved yet.
Carefully, you set down your basket and gathered your skirts, preparing to dash for a tree, anywhere to get away from the wolf. Before you could move, the wolf groaned and stiffly lay down. As it did, you caught a glimpse of its side, coated in a dark red. The wolf put its head between its paws and groaned again. You took half a step forward, before catching yourself, unsure of the beast’s intentions.
Torn, you glanced towards your basket of herbs and then back to the wolf. When it made no other move, you slowly stepped over to pick it up, watching the still animal the whole time. When the wolf made no movement, other than its eyes following you the few steps across the clearing, you made your decision. Carefully approaching the wolf, you crooned in a low, soft voice. “I just want to take a look at your side. Will you allow me to do that? I mean you no harm.”
The wolf raised its head slightly to look at you, slowly blinking its golden eyes. You froze, waiting to see what it would do next. You swore you saw the wolf nod before it set its head back down between its paws, shifting so that it lay on its other side, releasing another pained whine.
Shaking yourself out of the stupor that had fallen over you, you moved quickly to the wolf’s side, sinking to your knees next to it. The wolf was even larger up close. As you examined its side, a sinking feeling appeared in your stomach. The wolf had been clawed, four long slashes running from its shoulder down its side almost to its back legs. The feeling of despair worsened, the cuts were very deep and still weeping blood freely. You scrambled for your basket of supplies, reaching for the coagulant potion you had made the other day.
“This will hurt,” you warned the wolf, before pouring the potion over its side. The wolf stiffened and turned its head to snap half heartedly at your hand. You snatched your fingers back to your chest, cradling your hand and glaring at the wolf. You shook your finger at the wolf in exasperation.
“You are the one who came to me,” you scolded, “behave.”
Why am I talking to the wolf as if it could understand me? In fact, why am I even helping it? It is definitely not a normal wolf, it is much too big.
The wolf huffed, before looking off into the woods. Glancing into your basket again, you pulled another potion out and looked hesitantly at the wolf. “Can you drink this? It will help with the pain.”
The white beast lifted its head, nudging your hand with its snout. Taking that as a gesture of affirmation, you uncorked the bottle and tipped a few drops into the wolf’s maw. After waiting a few minutes for the potion to take effect, you pulled out a cloth and a flask of water and began to clean the edges of the wound. Once finished with your task, you rummaged in your basket for a needle and thread to stitch the wounds with.
As the needle entered the wolf’s side, it threw its head back, its muzzle formed into a silent snarl. You paused, running your hand through its fur, trying to soothe the beast. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “but it must be done. I have to suture your wounds or they will not heal.”
Slowly, the wolf relaxed and you took this as your cue to continue stitching the slashes. You completed the stitches, and stopped, debating the best way to bandage the wolf’s body. As you did this, the animal tiredly lifted its head, as if wondering why you had paused. You glanced over and met it’s golden eyes, now having gone cloudy through a haze of exhaustion and pain. “I must wrap the stitches so they don’t get infected, but I’m not sure of the best way to do so,” you told the wolf.
With a sigh, the white figure on the ground heaved itself to a standing position, whining softly in the back of its throat at the motion. Frantically, you tried to support some of its weight, worried that the stitches would pull and your work would be for naught. As the wolf finished getting to its feet, and after you reassured yourself that none of the stitches had pulled out during the movement, you busied yourself with wrapping its chest and belly with the bandages from your basket. Once that was done, you collected your things and pulled yourself to your feet. Turning to look at the wolf that stood motionless beside you, you spoke to it. “Well, that is all I can do for you now. Come, you can sleep in front of my hearth tonight so that I may check your stitches tomorrow.”
Not waiting for a reply, you turned and set off on the deer trail that would take you back to your home. You lived a little ways out of town, in a small house with an enclosed yard where you grew your herbs and brewed your potions. Villagers often came out to see you, looking for an elixir or for healing, and you never turned anyone away. I guess that would be why I helped the wolf, I can’t bear to see anyone or anything in pain. I shall just have to hope it does not get hungry through the night.
Glancing down at the creature that walked by your side, it was even more apparent that this was no ordinary wolf. Its head stood almost to your rib cage, quite tall for that species, even though you were shorter than many women. No, I don’t sense any ill intentions from this animal, although I am still not sure what it is. Unable to help yourself, you reached down and stroked the wolf’s head, marvelling at the softness of the white fur. It grumbled and looked up at you, as if in exasperation.
Reaching your yard, you opened the small gate, letting the wolf in in front of you and closing the gate as you walked through. Reaching into your basket, you pulled out the key to your door and let the two of you into the house. Placing your basket on the table, you turned to your hearth to start a fire, the night had begun to fall and the air to cool. After you had done this, you pulled the blanket off your couch and laid it on the stone in front of the fire. “Well then, you may sleep here tonight. Try to get some rest and I will check on you tomorrow morning.”
As the wolf settled onto the blanket with a groan, you glanced one last time at the bandages to check for blood. Seeing none, you walked down the hall to your bedroom to prepare for the night. After changing into your nightclothes, you flopped backwards onto your bed and crawled under the covers. As you slowly drifted off to sleep, your mind continued to wander back to the strange wolf with the golden eyes, and wondering what had happened to injure it so.
As you fell asleep, strange thoughts and sounds whirled through your head, all centered on the animal asleep in your house.
**~*~*~*~**
Geralt limped through the forest, following the smell of herbs and magic. As he approached a small clearing, he could see a woman kneeling in the bushes, a basket filled with herbs by her side. He paused again smelling the air, having followed the distinctive scent of his kind to this area. As he lingered in the bushes, the woman across the clearing stood up, freezing in place when she turned and saw him. She set down her basket and gathered her skirts, her whole body tensing as if to run. The smell, the source is from around here somewhere. Groaning, Geralt lay down and placed his head between his front paws, hoping to show that he was not a threat.
The woman paused at this motion, taking half a step towards him before hesitating and glancing over at her basket, stepping towards it. Geralt remained motionless, following her only with his eyes. Seeming to gather her courage, the stranger picked up her basket before approaching him. “I just want to take a look at your side. Will you allow me to do that? I mean you no harm.” she crooned.
Geralt slowly lifted his head to glance over at her, slowly blinking, before nodding his head and putting his head back on the ground and rolling slightly onto his uninjured side, letting out a groan at the motion. Now that the woman was closer, Geralt realized that the scent was coming from her. Intrigued by this discovery, Geralt almost missed the woman warning him, “this will hurt” before pouring a liquid over his wounds. He stiffened as pain washed over him, beginning at his side. Turning his head, he gently snapped at her hand in warning. The woman snatched her hand back before shaking a finger at him, sternly telling him, “you are the one who came to me, behave.”
Geralt huffed in amusement, before turning his head to glance into the woods. It was getting dark, and he needed to find somewhere to shelter while his wounds healed. His attention was brought back to the stranger next to him as she rummaged in her basket and pulled out another vial before asking, “Can you drink this? It will help with the pain.”
Geralt nudged at the hand holding the vial in reply, allowing her to pour some of the potion into his maw. He placed his head back down on the ground, watching as the woman revealed a cloth and flask, leaning over him to clean the slashes that decorated his side. Once the blood was gone, she again reached into her basket before pulling out a needle and thread. As she poked at his skin to begin stitching the lips of the wound together, a flash of pain raced through his body, causing him to stiffen and throw his great head back, muzzle forming into a snarl as he desperately held back any noise.
“I’m sorry, but it must be done. I have to suture your wounds or they will not heal.” the woman whispered, as she ran her hand through the fur on his side. Geralt slowly relaxed as the stroking soothed him and helped clear the pain. Geralt tried his best to stay still, only flinching slightly as the needle pulled his skin. After a while, the poking stopped, and Geralt opened his eyes to see the woman staring at him with a roll of bandages in her hand. “I must wrap the stitches so they don’t get infected, but I’m not sure of the best way to do so,” Understanding what she wanted, he sighed before heaving himself to his feet, whining lowly in the back of his throat as the movement sent a burning through him. The woman frantically reached for his massive shoulders before fussing over the wound in his side.
Satisfied with what she saw, the woman began to wrap the bandages around his chest, Geralt standing patiently as she did so. Once done, the woman gathered her supplies and stood, glancing back down at Geralt standing next to her before speaking, “Well, that is all I can do for you now. Come, you can sleep in front of my hearth tonight so that I may check your stitches tomorrow.”
Surprised at the offer, Geralt hurried to catch up with her as the woman crossed the clearing, heading for a small trail hidden at the side of the clearing. As the two of them walked, the woman glanced down at Geralt before brushing her hand over her head. The motion was a surprise, but not unwelcome. Geralt grumbled at himself for enjoying and allowing the gesture.
After travelling for several minutes, a small house set in a stand of trees appeared. The woman walked over to the gate, opening it before allowing Geralt into the yard in front of her. As she closed the gate behind them, Geralt paused to take in the yard. It was small, but clearly well cared for. There were several patches of turned dirt, free of any weeds, as well as several hanging baskets and puts overflowing with various plants. Inhaling, Geralt could still make out that distinctive smell of the woman, although it was now masked by the scents of the plants in the yard, ones that he associated with healing.
Catching up to the woman as she unlocked her door, Geralt followed her inside and watched as she placed her basket on the table before kneeling in front of the hearth to start a fire. While she did so, Geralt took the opportunity to examine the house. It was small but looked like it was well lived in. Vials, empty and full, covered shelves and counters, interspersed with various herbs and tools. She looks like a healer, but smells like a witch.
There was a door that led to a room that had a table and chairs, maybe a kitchen? There was a small hallway with several doors that branched off from the main room. The woman caught Geralt’s attention again as she pulled a blanket off of the small couch in the room and arranged it on the stones in front of the fire that was now roaring in the hearth. She stood up and looked at him, saying “Well then, you may sleep here tonight. Try to get some rest and I will check on you tomorrow morning.”
Geralt limped over to the blanket, groaning as he stiffly lay down, favouring his injured side. The woman leaned over him once more to check his bandages before disappearing down the hallway. Geralt could hear movement in another room before the house fell silent. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of the woods outside the house before drifting off to sleep.
**~*~*~*~**
It was still dark outside when Geralt was woken by something. He remained motionless, trying to identify what sound had filtered through his dreams. Focusing inward, he searched for the well of power within himself, pausing once he found it before breaking through the barriers and allowing its power to surge through him. A wave of heat washed over him before Geralt found himself sitting amongst the blankets, returned to his human form. Glancing down at his bare chest, he saw that the stitches holding the four slashes running down his left side together had held throughout the night.
The sound that had woken him came again, a small cry that sounded from down the hallway in the direction the woman had gone. Getting to his feet, Geralt put one hand on the wall as the room spun around him. Cursing the arachas that had injured him earlier, he waited for the lightheadedness to pass before wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and making his way slowly down the hallway. As he got closer, the muffled sounds of sobbing and thrashing became clearer. Leaning against the wall, Geralt hobbled closer to the door that hid the mysterious woman. He knocked on the door, hoping the sound would disrupt whatever night terror held the girl in its grip.
When the cries only grew louder, Geralt opened the door and took a step inside, only to be hit by a magical aura. He looked towards the bed in the room, taking in Y/H/C locks spread across the pillow from tossing throughout the night. The sheets were tangled in her legs, skin pale, cheeks flushed, tear tracks staining her face. Geralt pushed against the magic, trying to break through to the woman’s side. As he fought, he could feel the stitches in his side ripping, warm blood starting to spill down his side. As he reached the bed, the woman’s eyes flew open with a scream and she scrambled up the bed to lean against the headboard.
Not wanting to frighten her anymore, Geralt froze in place. He could feel himself slowly weakening further as his wounds screamed at him in pain, but he didn’t dare move in case he broke the spell that had descended on the room. The woman curled in on herself, desperately trying to control her breathing but unable to. As she slowly grew paler, Geralt came to a decision and stepped forward in an attempt to calm her down.
**~*~*~*~**
Heart beating frantically, you cowered against the top of your bed, images from you dreams flashing through your mind. A dark castle, filled with pain and death. A badger, backed snarling into a corner. A man’s face shrouded in darkness. A white wolf with glowing golden eyes snarling at a shadowy figure, an injured lion cub behind it, snapping at the hand that emerged from the shadows.
Gasping for breath, you hunched in on yourself, quickly growing lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. A movement from the corner of your eye had you spinning to see a white haired figure standing off to the side of your bed. As you focused on the man who was slowly inching towards your bed, you could feel your breath accelerating again. “Don’t, don’t come any closer.” you gasped out.
“I am not here to hurt you, little one. You helped me and I am here to help you.” the man said in a low voice. As he spoke, you felt a spark within, something calling out to this strange man in your room. A sense of familiarity wrapped around you, soothing you. The man was bare-chested, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He slowly stepped forward, his hands raised in front of him in the universal gesture of peace. You pushed yourself further backwards on the bed, trying to get away from the stranger in your bedroom before you noticed his eyes. Specifically, the colour of them, a shade of vibrant gold that brought forward the memories of the evening previously. “You are the wolf, from last night.” you managed to get out.
He nodded slowly, “I am,” he responded. “You need to breathe, little one, you are dangerously close to losing consciousness.”
As he spoke, you became aware of the feeling of lightheadedness, the blackness creeping into the edges of your vision. As you focused on trying to control your breathing, the man came closer, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching you with those piercing golden eyes. “Look at me,” he coaxed, “follow my breathing. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.”
You breathed deeply, trying to copy the rhythm that the man on your bed was setting. Slowly, you got your breathing under control and felt the dizziness fade away. “Thank you,” you breathed. Glancing up at him, you introduced yourself.
“Geralt” was all you got in return. Nodding to yourself, you slowly began to expand your senses out, taking stock of what had happened. Thinking back on your dreams, you shuddered, before pushing the memories away. As you slowly came back to yourself, you also became aware of the sharp scent of copper filling the room. Remembering the events of the night before, you reached for the man’s arm, ignoring the slight recoil that accompanied your actions. Tugging him so that you could see his left side, you gasped when you saw the bandages stained dark with red.
“You are bleeding,” you admonished, “let me see.” You stood from your bed and grabbed your dressing gown, putting your arms through the sleeves as you crossed to the other side of your mattress. As you got closer, you could see that the bandages were saturated and the blood was beginning to run down his side. You pulled him gently off the bed, sliding under his right arm when he stumbled and threatened to fall, taking most of his weight. Quickly, you led him to your work room, pushing the man onto the bed before rushing to the other side to grab your supplies.
You returned to Geralt, using a small dagger to slice the bandages off his torso, peeling them back and blanching at the sight. There were several places where the stitches had ripped out of the skin, and the whole area was puffy, weeping blood and pus. “What did this to you?” you demanded.
“An arachas,” Geralt replied, twitching when you prodded at the topmost claw mark.
“So there is venom in the wound yet,” you murmured to yourself. Your healing knowledge was vast, and the arachas were particularly venomous. “How are you still alive?”
“I am a witcher; their venom does not affect me as it does a normal human.” He groaned as you used your dagger to slice the rest of the stitches and make a small incision, a small bowl in your other hand to catch the pus and blood as you drained it from the wound. Glancing up, you could see Geralt’s locked jaw and pale skin, eyes hooded against the pain.
“A witcher,” you breathed, you had heard of their mutations that defended them in battle, “but the venom is still in your system. What potion do you need?”
When you received no reply, you glanced up from where you were draining the last of the slashes on his chest, seeing his eyes starting to flutter shut, his chest rising and falling with laboured breathing. “Geralt,” you demanded sharply, shaking his arm to gain his attention. Seeing that you had it, you asked again, “The potion, what do you take to counteract the venom?”
“Insectoid oil” he got out through gritted teeth. Frantically, you ran across the room, searching for the potion he had specified. Hearing movement, you glanced behind you to see the witcher attempting to stand from the bed where you had left him, swaying on his feet. Abandoning your search, you rushed back towards him even as his eyes fell shut and he collapsed towards the floor.
The last thing that he heard before the world went dark was a cry of his name, “Geralt!”