A/N: Hello all, another week another chapter. This one is a lot longer than last week. You see, I make up for it at some points. Anyway, I'll leave you all to read, review and enjoy like always! :)

Chapter 20

Winter in Kaer Morhen was a very different pace to life on the Path. Time seemed to slow to an unbearable crawl once the snows began to arrive. The trick, Lambert found, was to find an absorbing project that would occupy the mind enough to not notice the painful passage of time. This usually involved him either experimenting with new bomb formulas, or fishing down at the lake near the keep. The fishing would only last until a month before winter solstice, by then the majority of the lake freezing over making it impossible to navigate by boat. Besides, Lambert's method wasn't really suited to ice fishing. Once that option was gone, he would usually retreat into his store of bombs and spend most of the day tinkering away with what supplies he had hoarded on the Path. That was, until Vesemir found him and forced him to drill with the rest of them, or worse…assist in rebuilding the draughty old building.

Every year, without fail, the old bastard would take advantage of the extra hands and cajole and harangue them into helping. Lambert was baffled why he even bothered. The keep was long past saving, years of decay and attacks had left it riddled with breaches, and the actual keep itself was slowly mouldering from within due to long empty halls and rooms. The life and spirit of Kaer Morhen had disappeared with every witcher lost to the Path or worse, it crawled with ghosts and Lambert hated it. It was why, whenever he found himself shifting rubble or passing mortar to Vesemir he would be at his most bitter. Snapping at his brothers and picking fights with the old man constantly. Eventually, he would win and Vesemir would stop asking him to help. Choosing peace instead of an extra pair of hands.

As this was the start of the season, the traditional cycle had yet to establish itself, so it was with wary caution that Lambert stepped out into the biting cold of the courtyard the day after his galling encounter with Blue eyes. He scanned the perimeter, looking for where the old coot had decided to focus his attention this winter and found an altogether unexpected sight. Vesemir was halfway up a scaffold he had built around a breach in the east wall, mixing a large vat of mortar. This alone wasn't unusual, what made Lambert pause and stare in disbelief was the slim, agile figure currently scaling the broken masonry, a large slab of stone hoisted onto one shoulder. Snow fall from yesterday had left a slick, patchy covering of white all over the yard and walls. The stone was almost as big as Blue eyes but she carried it up the treacherous incline as if it were nothing more than a bag of grain. Lambert could feel his eyebrows rising in awe even as his mood lowered.

Why was she helping the old bastard? He had put her through hell just to placate his nervous disposition. She should be refusing to lift a finger towards this gods forsaken place. He watched as she reached the top of the half-collapsed wall and placed the stone slab carefully in position next to a row of other new stones. How long had they been doing this? It wasn't long after dawn and yet it looked like they were halfway through the construction work.

He wasn't aware how long he stood there, but it was enough time for Vesemir to notice. The old witcher stopped in his mixing and hailed Lambert. 'You gonna' stand around gawping all day, or are you gonna' make yourself useful?'

Lambert felt the automatic annoyance at being roped into fixing and building like some kind of mundane stonemason, then his attention was caught by Blue eyes who had stopped in her work as well to look at him. Even from a distance he could sense the guarded way she watched him. Her face was the same emotionless mask she'd been wearing yesterday as she turned to leave him. It sent another cold dagger of pain into Lambert's chest. His gut roiling with resentment as he watched the easiness with which she now interacted with Vesemir. A man who had wanted her dead five days ago.

Choosing to ignore the girl perched on top of the wall, he turned his gaze back to Vesemir. 'Where are the others? I don't see them lending a hand either.'

The old witcher waved his hand dismissively towards the lower yards. 'They're running their drills. Might be better if you join them, Geralt said your parries were a little rusty when he sparred you last.' The resentment doubled. Damn that fucking white haired saint.

'Sure, might go and pay him back for that punch the other day.' Lambert muttered, certain that Vesemir had heard it anyway. He began to walk towards the training yard but just as he got to the archway leading out he glanced over his shoulder. Blue eyes had returned to carting up more slabs of stone, her lithe legs covered in those infuriating leather trousers making quick work of it. The cold dagger twisted in its new home in Lambert's chest, and he marched purposefully off in the hopes of hitting something extra hard to take his mind off of it.

He'd hoped it was a one off; that Blue eyes was just being nice to the old man to get in his good books, but as the days went on and she continued to be halfway up a wall, or perched on the parapets repairing and lifting and doing most of the labour, Lambert realised that she was genuinely invested in Vesemir's life long project.

The upside of the whole bizarre turn of events meant that he was no longer nagged and bullied into helping too. Occasionally he would see Eskel or Geralt helping the old man – the latter keeping a healthy distance between him and the girl – but usually it was just the two of them slaving away. He only ever heard or saw Blue eyes when he was doing drills with the others or heading out to the lake, but he was certain that when they were all asleep in the keep at night that she was still working out in the cold. His primary evidence for this was the fact that every day when he woke up, the work he had seen her doing the day previous was usually completed. The eastern wall that had been destroyed in the attack by the Salamanders all those years previous, was inexplicably finished only a day after he had first seen her working on it with Vesemir.

On top of the construction work, he had also caught her clearing the weeds and vines that had begun to invade the keep due to years of neglect. Suddenly the three inner yards started to resemble how they used to look when Lambert had first come to Kaer Morhen. He found himself feeling disorientated whenever he stepped out of the still dilapidated keep into the upper yard. It was almost like stepping through a portal into another time and he half expected to see Voltehre, his long dead friend, running up to meet him. He wasn't sure he liked the changes, but Vesemir was happier than a water hag in mud whenever he saw him, so at least he was left in peace the majority of the time.

He said the majority, because the rest of the time he had Eskel constantly chewing his ass out about Blue eyes. It seemed their mutual agreement to stay away from each other hadn't gone down so well with his older brother. The scarred witcher using every opportunity he could to drop hints and barbed comments about the pair of them. Lambert had noticed it was only when he was around, not the girl, and as far as he was aware Eskel wasn't making a song and dance about it to her, so it only served to piss him off more and more as the days and weeks went on.

'You can't ignore each other forever.' Eskel said one day, as they were mucking out the stables together. Lambert dumped some of Whoresons shit to one side as he shot his brother a dangerous glance.

'Yes we fucking can. It's a big place.' Eskel rolled his eyes.

'That's not what I meant jackass, and you know it.' Lambert began to stab a little too violently at the pile of straw.

'Yeah, yeah, I knew what you meant, but it doesn't change my answer.'

'Why the fuck not? You like her, she likes you. Just talk man.' Lambert could hear the blood pounding though his head as he tried to block out the other witcher's annoying words.

'Cos we did, and she said she didn't want me.' His words came out louder than he was intending, causing Whoreson to jerk his head up from his breakfast to give his master a concerned look.

'Did she? Did she say those exact words? Because from where I've been standing she looks pretty heartbroken every time you walk past.'

Lambert stabbed some more at the inanimate straw pile. 'Then you're real shitty at reading people brother, sorry.' He could feel Eskel's eyes on him as he continued shifting fresh bedding into Whoreson's stall. He knew Eskel meant well, but he wasn't involved in whatever the fuck was going on between him and Blue eyes. It hurt him too, to watch her going about her business, in his home, with his friends, but she'd said to keep things civil. So, he would.

With the walls refortified and the inner courtyards cleared, Blue eyes turned her attention to a small patch of overgrown land set in a secluded part of the keep. Lambert had never really noticed the space before, but as he was walking towards the training yard for morning drills he saw her small, familiar frame bent over, ripping out weeds and muttering to herself. As he slowed down to watch this bizarre scene he noticed Vesemir was stood nearby, also watching in fascinated silence.

Lambert thought about moving on and leaving them to whatever new project they'd started but the old witcher turned and saw him. 'Morning Lambert.'

If the strange behaviour from Blue eyes wasn't enough to give him pause, then Vesemir's unusually civil greeting did the trick. He gave him a wary look. 'Morning old man. What job have you got your new slave doing today?'

Vesemir raised an eyebrow at his snarky response but didn't chastise him. Now Lambert was really intrigued. 'She decided on this one herself if you must know.' He gave Lambert a reproachful look. 'You're not annoyed at me for taking advantage of our new guest's enthusiasm, are you? I would've thought you'd be happy I wasn't making you help me this year, seeing as you usually give us all a headache for daring to drag you away from your boat or bombs.'

Lambert cast an irritated glance towards Blue eyes. Thankfully she seemed far too engrossed in whatever the fuck it was she was doing to pay attention to the two witchers. Regardless, he walked over to Vesemir, not wanting to talk quite so loudly in her presence. 'No, as long as that's what it is…enthusiasm. I know you Vesemir, you have a gift of twisting people's arms.'

The old witcher held up his hands, 'No arm twisting here. The girl saw me mending the east wall and asked if she could be of assistance. Who am I to turn down a strong pair of hands.'

Lambert narrowed his eyes. 'Just seems like exploitation to me. Seeing as you wanted her dead originally.' Vesemir gave him one of his trademark long, hard looks.

'Worried about exploitation now? If I didn't know any better I'd say the girl is a tremendous influence on you.'

'Know any better, what the fuck does that mean?' At this, Vesemir let out an exasperated sigh.

'I may be old, but I'm far from blind. I've seen enough of Geralt's escapades to know when two people like each other but are avoiding the inevitable for some stupid reason or another.' Vesemir gave him that look he'd always hated. The look where he was trying to peer into his very soul and learn the truth before you said it. Lambert averted his eyes, choosing instead to look at the girl still on her knees in the dirt. They were far enough away that she couldn't hear them, but Lambert was certain she would have picked up his scent by now. She had the nose of a werewolf that one. Still, she kept her eyes on the ground, rooting out weeds and mumbling to herself as she did it.

'I'm not Geralt.' He finally responded. He heard Vesemir snort.

'Of that, I am fully aware. However, I do think you should follow his lead. Not be too hard on yourself. It is a rare thing to find a person willing to overlook our…differences.' The look Vesemir gave him now was something Lambert had never seen directed at him before. It was almost…fatherly. He felt a tight constricting pain in his chest, different to the knife that he now associated with Blue eyes, this was more like a longing he didn't know he had. He stared, unsure what to do, at the old witcher for a moment then cleared his throat, his lip curling into its familiar sneer.

'What's this old man? Trying to have a heart to heart with me? What happened to a witcher's only concern is his work? Not like you haven't tried to hammer that into my skull over the years.'

Vesemir placed a hand on Lambert's shoulder. The young witcher didn't know whether to shrug it off or hold it in place. 'Lambert, I learnt the hard way that love doesn't come around often. Don't live to regret your decisions.'

Lambert scoffed at his words, but inside he drank them in greedily. 'Never thought I'd hear the day you were encouraging me to shack up with a demon of all things.'

He let out another long sigh. 'My boy, you've been walking the Path long enough to know that not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. Or are you so blinded by cynicism and bitterness that you no longer care.' He jerked his head towards Blue eyes. 'She's a good one. Didn't know that before, but actions mean everything in my book. Never known a person so willing to help strangers.'

'Hmm.' Lambert said, noncommittally.

'We live a long, hard life. So, seize the moment when it comes, boy.' He patted Lambert's shoulder gently, and for once the young witcher didn't feel a surge of anger at the diminutive term. Vesemir gave him one last measured look before walking away.

Lambert was conflicted. He had always found solace in keeping people at arm's length. Less easy for them to hurt you that way. He knew it led to him feeling worse, but in the long run, it was safer. Now, as he watched Vesemir's back retreating, his words of advice still echoing in his ears, he couldn't help but feel tired with all the sniping and posturing. Wouldn't it be easier to just give in? He looked towards the girl, still busy with her weeds, her brown hair blowing in the cold wind, her cheeks pink from the chill and he felt that strong insistent tugging in his gut, pulling him towards her.

'Fuck it all.' He muttered, before turning and walking hurriedly away.

Ellie filled her days with work. It was the easiest way to keep her mind off things. She was grateful for the peace that the keep brought, but at the same time sitting around doing nothing was driving her crazy. She felt useless as Triss and Yen went off and tried to find out why she was here and what was stopping her leaving. She would have given anything to join in the search – it was her job after all – but she didn't know this world and knew she would only get in the way. Instead, she did her best to cooperate whenever they returned and asked her questions. She had already talked them through how she summoned doors and some of the abilities most demons had. She had worried to start with, that it felt a little like betraying them, as Yen always appeared to understand everything she was saying. Triss, on the other hand struggled occasionally with her choice of words, or explanations. Nevertheless, the pair always thanked her and continued on their search through the continent. Apparently, demons were an extremely rare occurrence, with most believing them to not exist at all. If there was something that could interfere with one or was themselves a demon, they would be well hidden from most magic users. At least, that's what Yen had told her.

When they were away, leaving her alone with the witchers, Ellie had found comfort and distraction in helping Vesemir repair the tired keep. She had run into him, just after dawn the day after their sparring match. He had been up the rickety scaffold she had noticed on the eastern wall, trying to lever a large slab of stone into place. Without thinking, she had scaled the wooden structure and hefted the heavy stone into position. Vesemir had looked at her in shocked surprise, then without saying a word had simply nodded and moved onto the next slab, leaving enough room next to him for her to continue to help.

Since that day she had worked tirelessly to repair and restore the keep to some of its former glory. Whilst they worked Vesemir regaled her with tales of his past and the keep when it had been a proper witcher school, in between giving directions. When he and the others had retreated into the keep for dinner, she had continued on. Not needing to eat or sleep, she often completed the work before midnight, resulting in a delighted Vesemir the next morning when yet another job was completed.

It was in this time, between the witching hour and dawn, that Ellie found herself at a loose end. She had spent the first few weeks wandering the keep, learning more of its labyrinthine corridors. A fortnight into staying there she had stumbled upon a colossal room filled with stacks upon stacks of books. It smelt strongly of leather and must, and she had fallen in love immediately. The next day Vesemir had confirmed, yes, they did indeed have a library in the keep. Filled with old witcher texts and history, along with gods knew what else the sorceresses had added. He had told her she was welcome to read whatever she could understand, as a lot of it was written in an old language. From that moment on, whenever she had finished the building task they had been working on that day, she would find her way to the library and read until the sun began to turn the sky grey.

Vesemir had been right, a lot of the sizable tomes that she'd managed to carefully take down from the shelves were in a language that Ellie did not recognise. Still, she spent some time just marvelling at the elegant cursive and shimmering pictures etched into the yellow parchment. The ones she could understand however, she spent whole nights reading. All those questions she had been dying to ask the others, all that knowledge of this strange world she had been unexpectedly dumped into, she absorbed hungrily from the pages.

Something in particular that caught her eye, was an event known as the 'Conjuncture of the Spheres'. There weren't many first-hand accounts of it, but here say and theories made it sound a lot like many gateways opening up at once between worlds. She had heard of something similar happening in Purgatory, long before Mortimer had become Mayor and the Gatekeepers had been established. It made her think that maybe they were connected somehow, as Purgatory was meant to be the centre pin of all worlds. Another fact about this world that got her wildly over excited was the knowledge that both elves and dwarves existed. She had seen a lot of wild things in her time, but never a real-life elf or dwarf. Part of her wanted to go and bug Lambert to ask if he'd seen any, and what they were like. Then she'd remember the agreement they'd made and quickly find something else to distract her.

No matter how busy she kept herself, through night or day, the one enduring certainty was that her thoughts would always drift back to that arrogant witcher. It wasn't helped by the fact that she saw him most days whilst helping Vesemir. Often times he would be marching past, on his way to the training yard to spar with the other two, or out of the keep completely to go 'fishing' Vesemir claimed. Although the idea of Lambert doing something as time consuming and requiring any kind of patience like that was hard for her to believe. Other times he would stop for a moment and watch them, and these were the worst.

She would feel his eyes on her, no matter where she was stood or how absorbed she was in her work. His presence would be like a heavy weight on her body, pressing down and insisting she turn to look at him. It took all of her will power not to obey and ignore that tugging on the thread that seemed to permanently bind them now. She had made her choice and it was safer for both of them if she no longer gave into this strange attraction. It was hard though. Oh Purgatory, how it was hard. She missed his snarky comments and baffled looks at her. She missed his subtle kindnesses; sneaking Horse his last ration or placing a blanket over her when she was cold. Most of all she missed just talking to him, in those moments when he had been most at ease talking back. It had just been…easy with him.

Once she had exhausted all the jobs in the main yards and the walls were looking as impenetrable as she would've expected of a keep like this, she searched for the next thing to take her mind of a certain witcher. She was inspecting a break in the southern wall in the second yard when she stumbled upon a hidden corner of the keep. It was a wildly overgrown patch of land ringed by shoulder high dry-stone walls. It was perfectly camouflaged into the grey of the surrounding keep so had gone unnoticed by her. Stepping through a partially rotten wooden door, Ellie felt her spirits lift. Despite the jungle of head height plants covered in a fine layer of snow, it was clear this space had been a garden of some sort. Just visible through the foliage were simple stepping stone paths running between what would have plant beds. Ellie had always loved gardening and so her new project was born.

She started by knocking down the obscuring walls so they were waist height, giving the garden much needed light. It was while she was enthusiastically clearing the weeds that Vesemir had found her. 'I forgot this place existed.' He said, leaning on the wall as he watched her uproot a particularly stubborn bramble.

'What was it exactly? Didn't peg you witchers as the green fingered type.'

'Used to be a herb garden if I remember correctly. Although no one's touched it since our last alchemy specialist died in the first pogrom.' Ellie stopped in her weeding to look up at the old witcher. His fiery eyes had turned wistful and full of memories. She felt a swell of sadness and wondered again how old he actually was. Suddenly, her personal project meant a great deal more.

'What things used to grow here?' Vesemir blinked, coming out of his trance.

'Hellebore, mandrake, white myrtle, wolfsbane to name a few. Anything we could use in our potions or oils really.' Ellie found she like the gentle rumbling sound of his voice when he explained things to her. There was the air of a natural born teacher about him.

'Do they grow around here?' His mouth quirked up.

'Some do. I could make you a map of where they're located if you like?' Ellie stood up, dusting off her trousers.

'Not afraid I'll run away?' This provoked a hearty chuckle from the old witcher.

'My child, if you can find your way alone out of this valley in winter then you deserve to escape.' He left that ominous comment hovering over her as he walked away. The snow clouds rolling in once more, highlighting his point.

Within a few days, Ellie had cleared the herb garden to her satisfaction. Vesemir materialised out of nowhere as she pulled the last weed, as if he's been waiting for her. He handed her a folded piece of parchment and a thick woollen cloak with a wink, and left her once more. As she donned the cloak and scanned the map of the valley, serval dark crosses with scrawled text marked it in certain areas, Ellie couldn't help think if this was another test from the old man and what it would take for her to pass this time.

'Wolfsbane, wolfsbane, where the fuck is the wolfsbane?' Ellie muttered to herself, trudging through the thin layer of snow on the forest floor. According to both Eskel and Vesemir, the real Kaer Morhen winter hadn't quite hit them yet, but she was certain she'd never been anywhere colder. She wrapped the cloak a little more firmly around her and scanned the ground for any sign of its distinct purple flower.

The list Vesemir had given her included all the herbs that were hardy enough to still flower and grow in the cold months, so finding them so far hadn't been that much of an issue. It felt nice to get out of the keep, despite its size it still felt cramped at times with all those witchers and occasionally visiting sorceresses. The map had kept her in a five-mile radius of the keep, so she always had a way to get back. Evidently Vesemir didn't trust her enough not to get lost.

Scrambling on top of a boulder to get a better vantage point, she felt the samples she had already collected jostle and bump together. Damn, she thought as she checked the satchel she had borrowed from Eskel. Thankfully, they had all survived her lapse in care, the bulbs carefully wrapped in cloth. She had managed to find everything the old witcher had marked down for her, except the elusive wolfsbane.

A flash of movement between the trees caught her attention. She hadn't encountered any creatures yet, which was surprising considering the amount of noise they made every night. Her senses jumped into high alert and she listened for any sign of attack. Silence filled the pine forest, the sound of the wind bending the tall trees, their trunks creaking and cracking above her. She was about to pass it off as a trick of the light when there was the sound of metal on metal and an ear-splitting roar.

Leaping down off the boulder, Ellie weaved through the trees, moving towards the disturbance. In all likelihood, she should probably be going in the other direction. The constant night time chorus of the various creatures around here being anything to go by. However, she had been cooped up in that keep for nearly a month now, and the temptation to see another fantastic monster was too much for her to resist.

As she got closer she could make out heavy footsteps in the snow, accompanied by loud grunts of excursion and screeches of pain. Coming to the edge of the pine forest, Ellie could now see two figures dancing on the mountainside, one of them was something resembling a dragon. A large, scaly winged beast, its talons extended, its large toothy maw snapping at the other figure. A leather amour clad man, with long white hair, his sliver sword flashing in the sun. Ellie paused, watching cautiously as Geralt circled the lizard monster. It whipped out its tail, revealing the wickedly sharp barbs at its tip. They whistled past Geralt's head, the witcher ducking in time to miss the lethal blow. Before the monster could reposition from the jagged rock face it had perched on for its attack, Geralt lunged, slicing the creature from sternum to jawline in one fluid movement.

It let out a scream of pain, dark purple blood gushing from the wound. Then the scream died, turning into a hissing wheeze and the creature collapsed in an awkward heap at the witcher's feet. Sheathing his sword and with his back to where Ellie was stood watching, Geralt turned his head slightly, his amber eyes standing out in his too pale face.

'You going to come out, or keep snooping from the shadows?' Ellie felt herself tense, unsure whether to respond or not. It seemed hard to believe that he had managed to catch her approach while fighting that thing, but from what she had learnt so far about witchers, they were often unbelievable.

'I haven't got all day demon.'

Geralt's stern tone jolted Ellie forward, her feet shuffling through the snow towards him like she'd been caught doing something wrong. There was a part of her that would've preferred to be alone with the now dead lizard monster than the hostile witcher. She stopped a few feet from him and the corpse, its blood melting the snow around it. Shuffling awkwardly for a moment, she fought for something to break the tense silence. The witcher still looking at her over his shoulder, his posture far from relaxed.

'What was that?' She finally managed, doing a good job of not letting her voice crack. There was something about the white-haired wolf that made her uneasy and poised for an attack at any moment. The only thing that kept her from running was the knowledge that Lambert trusted him, and hadn't told her to keep her distance at any point. He shifted so he was facing her. His expression was infuriatingly unreadable.

'A forktail.' He replied simply, as if that was enough to answer all her questions.

She eyed the dead thing's vicious looking tail, and whether due to nerves or just the absurdity of the situation, Ellie couldn't stop the snort escaping her nose. 'More like knifetail.'

Geralt gave her an odd look, then miraculously the corners of his mouth turned up and he let out a gruff chuckle. 'Not bad.'

She felt a strange thrill at his sudden joviality, and she was a little more comfortable in his company as he began to dissect the forktail with mechanical precision. 'Were you out here hunting that?'

Geralt didn't slow in his task as he answered her. 'Pretty much. Yen wanted the spinal fluid for something she's working on, and I could use the extra blood.' He straightened up, stuffing some vials into his satchel. A pang of regret twisted her gut at the waste of such a beast, but such was the nature of life. She could save every monster in this world from a witcher's blade. He glanced down at her, his eyes sweeping over her own bag. 'What about you?'

'Oh, um, I'm collecting samples to plant in the herb garden back at the keep. Vesemir gave me a map.' She added, holding up the offending article as if she needed to excuse her sudden freedom. Geralt stared at the piece of parchment, his expression as stoic as ever, although Ellie could have sworn there was the faintest trace of humour dancing in his amber cat eyes.

'Hmm. Surprised Vesemir let you leave.' Ellie's breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropping at the assumption he was upset she was wandering around the valley unguarded. She half expected him to grab her and start dragging her back to the keep. Instead, his mouth turned up into a full smile, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. 'Don't think I've seen him so besotted with one of our guests before. Although you're the first to help him with his reconstruction project. The keep's never looked better.'

She felt her breathing return to normal. The unexpected friendliness from her previously number one challenger making her smile up at him in response. 'It keeps me busy.' She said.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at her incredulously, before turning and heading off down the mountainside. She watched him walk away, unsure what to do now, then realising she wasn't behind him Geralt stopped and jerked his head, indicating for her to follow. They walked in uncomfortable silence, the sound of their feet crunching through the snow impossibly loud in the absence of any talking. After a while, she felt his eyes on her again, then his gruff, almost embarrassed voice broke the tension.

'You know…I should apologise for the way I was when we met.' A long pause. 'I haven't come across many of your kind, and those I have…well, let's say I didn't intend on repeating the experience.'

'When did you meet a demon, if you don't mind me asking?' Geralt didn't respond right away, and when he still hadn't said anything after a few more steps she looked at him. 'Call it…professional curiosity.'

He let out a snort, his eyes glinting with humour again. Ellie had learnt, out of the three of them, he was the least open with his personality. Eskel was a gentle hearted warrior, Lambert a spiky ball of resentment, but Geralt…he was hard to read. 'I found myself indebted to one when he saved my life. Wanted to use me to collect a debt on another man foolish enough to fall for his charms.'

Ellie scanned Geralt for any trace of a mark. Aside from the two scars on his face, there was nothing obvious to suggest he was still bound to the demon he was talking about. 'And did you collect?' She asked, keeping her voice carefully nonchalant.

'I refused. Chose instead to face the demon myself and drive him away.' This time she raised an eyebrow.

'Impressive. How did you manage that?' Geralt halted, his eyes fixing on her as he finished his tale.

'I beat him at his own game. The man liked games of the mind, posed as a mirror salesman to most people. Like to trick them into signing their souls away for whatever he was peddling. I cracked one of his riddles and sent him back to wherever he came from.' A moment of uneasy tension manifested between them. She could tell Geralt was trying to read into her reaction, as likewise she was trying to discern if he was telling the truth. She may not have come to know Geralt like the other witchers, but as far as she knew he wasn't one to lie. Letting out a long breath, the air misting in a stream in front of her, she folded her arms and gave him an appraising look.

'Colour me impressed. Breaking a contract with a demon is tricky, especially the ones that tend to like making contracts in the first place.' Geralt nodded noncommittally, and she could tell he was done sharing for the moment. They continued on until they reached the road leading back to the keep, the gentle afternoon snowfall beginning to turn and thicken. 'Damn it, I still had to find one more plant before coming back.' Ellie muttered, glaring down at her map. Leaning over her shoulder Geralt took the barest glimpse of the parchment, then pointed a little way up the track.

'You can usually find wolfsbane growing on an outcrop up there. Here, I'll show you.' And without any further discussion, the white-haired witcher took her map and began to walk ahead off into the trees. Ellie blinked in bemusement, then a thought came to her.

'This isn't a plan to get me lost and bury me under the snow, is it?' Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt stupid. The witcher stopped and turned back, giving her that odd look again.

'Hmm.' Was all he said by way of reply, but before he turned away she saw his mouth split into a grin. Feeling her own face responding in a similar fashion, Ellie hurried after him, the satchel of already collected herbs bouncing against her legs.