The music echoed through the tavern.
"More! More! More!" a drunken patron shouted before collapsing on the floor, while the others laughed.
We stayed in our corner, keeping to ourselves. Ciri watched the other patrons with a longing look, like she was dying to join them, but Geralt didn't seem inclined to let her.
"But Geralt, please!" she insisted.
"No means no," he replied calmly. "And your hair already draws enough attention. We're staying low-key until we get to Kaer Morhen."
Ciri turned to me, hoping for backup.
"Aiden, say something!"
Surprised, I looked up from my book. "What are you guys talking about?"
"You weren't even listening…" Ciri groaned.
"Sorry, Ciri. I was focused on the alchemy book Geralt gave me."
Geralt cut in, almost amused. "Leave Aiden alone. He's learning."
"Yeah, but…" She sighed, changing the subject. "When are we getting to Kaer Morhen?"
"If all goes well, two weeks from now, just before winter sets in." Then Geralt looked at me, squinting as if he'd noticed something strange. "Aiden, I've been wondering… why do you never seem to feel cold?"
The question caught me off guard. Maybe I didn't shiver like the others, but I could still feel the chill on my skin.
Geralt explained, thoughtfully. "When it gets cold, our bodies generate heat to stay warm, which is why we can see our breath in the air. But with you… nothing. It's like your body doesn't react at all."
Looking concerned, Ciri took my hand and touched it a few times, as if checking something. Then she turned to Geralt.
"That's nonsense. He's warm!"
I chuckled softly. "Did you think I was dead or something, Ciri?"
"No… just… shut up!" she said, burying herself in her hot chocolate, pouting a little.
I understood why she acted like this. Since she'd started to recover from her loss, she'd been sticking close to me, as if she were afraid I'd disappear. And I knew what she was feeling. Loneliness is a terrible thing. When I was in the hospital, I used to dream of living a normal life, sharing simple moments with my parents, like a real family. But all that felt so far away, like a world I could only imagine, never actually reach.
I'd mentioned Ciri's behavior to Geralt, and he'd assured me he'd address it once we got to Kaer Morhen.
Geralt broke the silence. "Up for a game of Gwent?"
"Yes!" Ciri exclaimed, her smile instantly returning.
"Sounds good," I added, glad to change the subject.
Several games of Gwent followed. I played the Scoia'tael faction, while Ciri and Geralt went with the Northern Realms. (Personally, I've always liked the Scoia'tael for its card combos!)
After finishing our drinks, we found Roach and set off down the road again.
-------------------------
"Phew."
"Well done, Aiden. You still make a few unnecessary moves, but your focus is improving," Geralt said, giving me an approving look.
I nodded, trying to concentrate on the task I still had to finish. In front of me, the two drowners I'd taken down lay twisted and strange, their bodies sprawled in the snow under the fading afternoon light. Drowners were aquatic creatures, with eerie white eyes, long poisonous claws, and a habit of leaping unexpectedly at their prey. I tried not to think too much about it as I approached one of them to extract its brain.
The thought of handling that slimy mass made me feel a bit queasy, but I tried not to let it show. This was training, and I knew Geralt was watching, evaluating my every move.
"Go easy," he said, moving closer. "A drowner's brain is fragile. If you damage it, your Swallow potion might end up as poison instead."
I swallowed and forced myself to stay focused. Using my knife, I slowly cut around the head, carefully widening the area so I wouldn't press too hard. The faint stench of the drowner made me nauseous, and each time I glanced at the slimy brain, I felt like I was seeing something no one should ever have to see. But with Geralt's steady gaze on me, I had to hold it together. Finally, I removed the brain and carefully placed it in a jar of water for preservation.
I stood up, my hands covered in blood, and went to wash them quickly. When I came back to the camp, I saw Geralt and Ciri in the middle of a discussion or more like an argument.
"I'm telling you, you cook the meat first, then add the sauce!" Ciri said, her brows furrowed, looking serious.
"Nonsense," Geralt replied, crossing his arms. "You add the sauce first, so the meat soaks up the flavor."
I couldn't help but smile at their expressions. Ciri, with her defiant look, and Geralt, usually so stoic, seemed for once relaxed. It felt strange, but at the same time, it warmed something inside me. For a second, my mind drifted away from the camp, and a blurry image flashed before me: a table, laughter, the warmth of a home. I imagined Geralt and Ciri there, taking the place of my parents, as if this scene around the campfire could really be my life.
The cold brought me back to reality, and I looked up at the sky. Snowflakes were falling gently around us, covering the ground with a thin white layer. The crackling of the campfire added a bit of warmth to the air, and the smell of cooking meat mixed with the crisp winter scent. I stood there for a moment, and without realizing it, my eyes began to glow faintly, casting a strange light into the growing darkness.
If someone had been close by, they would have felt an icy breath radiating from me.
I walked over to Geralt and Ciri, who were still arguing. Without saying a word, I grabbed the meat and the sauce and put them both into the pot at the same time. They both stopped immediately, staring at me like I'd just committed a major offense.
"Hey! That's not how you do it!" Ciri protested, crossing her arms.
Geralt rolled his eyes, a fleeting hint of amusement in his gaze. "Ah, the culinary skills of a witcher-in-training…"
I shrugged. "Well, this way, everyone's happy."
Ciri gave me a mock look of outrage before smiling despite herself. She was only eleven, and the cold made her cheeks even redder, making her expressions even more vivid. I knew these moments we spent together meant a lot to her like we were a real family.
Geralt looked at the pot, then back at me, before saying, "Next time, leave the cooking to those who know what they're doing."
I couldn't help but laugh. Geralt, the ever-serious, quiet witcher, bantering with a kid… This moment gave me a sense of warmth, as if, for once, I'd found a place where I could truly be myself.
-----------------------------------
The snowstorm raged around us. The icy wind struck our faces, and every step through the deep snow took almost superhuman effort. I tried to keep up with Geralt, but it was hard to see him through the swirling snow.
"GERALT, WHERE ARE WE GOING?" I shouted to be heard over the wind.
"THERE'S A VILLAGE NOT FAR! I HAVE A FRIEND WHO OWES ME HIS LIFE. HE'LL SHELTER US!"
Each step became harder, and I slipped several times on the snow. Ciri was struggling even more. She pushed forward, her feet sinking into the thick snow. She gritted her teeth, determined, but each gust seemed to push her back a little more. Finally, I lifted her by the shoulders and helped her onto Roach. She clung tightly to the horse, her fingers clutching the reins, and I could see that she was shivering with cold.
What intrigued me was how my body was reacting. I could feel the snow and wind against my skin, but the cold didn't affect me as it should. I wasn't shivering; I didn't need to clench my teeth or wrap my arms around myself for warmth. Stranger still, I felt a kind of certainty about the direction we needed to go, almost as if I could see the path through the storm. It wasn't normal vision, and it didn't feel like magic, but I knew that where the cold was strongest, where the snow piled up the most, I would find the right way. The storm felt familiar to me, almost soothing. The snow settling on me felt like a blanket, and the icy wind seemed almost pleasant, like an old friend.
Soon, we reached a village. Through the snow, I could make out houses, their dark, blurry shapes appearing in the gray light of the storm. Just before we entered, Geralt raised his hand to signal us to stop. We stood there, unmoving, as the snow continued to fall around us, muffling every sound.
The minutes passed, and the silence grew stranger by the second. Finally, Ciri broke the silence, her voice trembling.
"What's going on?"
Geralt, focused, didn't answer. He was scanning the darkness of the village, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Before Ciri could ask again, I murmured quietly:
"Ciri, shh. Listen… there's no sound."
She looked around, and I could tell she understood. The village was eerily silent. No voices, no sound of footsteps, not even a crackling fire. Just the wind blowing and the creak of shutters banging in the distance, like in an abandoned village.
As we moved toward the first houses, I noticed faint footprints in the snow, barely visible, as if someone had passed through before us. But the tracks stopped abruptly, leaving a strange and sudden emptiness. The shutters on some houses rattled in the wind, giving the place an abandoned look, as if the villagers had fled in a hurry.
Geralt, still on high alert, muttered more to himself than to us, "This village shouldn't be this quiet. Stay close to me."