Chapter 2

I clamped my hand firmly over my mouth before a gasp could escape. Outside the window I saw something that simply couldn't be possible.

Preoccupied with the rocking of various cribs, mother failed to notice my shock.

"I need the bathroom." I announced, carefully keeping the astonishment out of my time.

Mother replied without turning her head, "Don't be long."

Placing my half-full bowl on the table I stood up and pretended to yawn tiredly.

Unless she secretly possessed the spells of a sorcerer or the keen senses of a Witcher, it was impossible for mother to discover any flaws in my behaviour.

Just as I grasped the door knob, mother's voice made me freeze.

Frantically I racked my mind for what action had given me away.

"Take those bones with you and throw them into the square. The dogs will have them for breakfast." Mother said with a chuckle. Her head still didn't turn to look at me.

"Sure ma." I said.

Grabbing the bones from the table I left hurriedly before she could give me any other tasks.

Immediately I was hit in the face by a gust of cold air.

Ordinarily my next action would be to run as quickly as possible to our family's pit-latrine.

Instead of doing that I headed swiftly in the direction I had seen the figure take. Even from a distance I could tell that he towered over me.

In this world giants truly did exist. The figure's size was not on par with that bloodthirsty monster, but his shoulders were broad and thick rippling muscles were packed under his dark armour.

Twisting patterns of scales shimmered faintly in the moonlight, the material used to create the black armour was clearly not ordinary leather.

Each Witcher school emphasised a different trait and used a unique recipe of mutagenic herbs to create a witcher. The huge figure was undoubtedly a graduate of the school of the bear or griffin.

"What do you want child?" The witcher rumbled in a deep and gravelly voice.

His sickly yellow eyes glowered at me in the darkness.

To a witcher my scent was no different than a target painted on my back. Provided there had not been any accidents or side-effects from his mutation, he would've likely noticed my presence the moment I stepped outside the hut.

Not sleeping for a day or two had almost no effect on a witcher. The monster-slayer had likely chosen to travel in the dead of night to avoid any unwanted human attention.

Purely relying on luck I had caught a glimpse of the witcher's figure as he trekked through the nighttime. He was probably as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Nothing sir witcher, I only wondered if you had any spare monster parts you might give me.

Please sir, it would make my friends ever so jealous." I asked in a child-like tone.

Although I had to put on a child's facade, I thankfully did not have to change my pre-pubescent voice. That humiliation would simply be too much to bear.

"You fear me like the rest of them boy, I can smell it.

Monster blood is not something a whelp should touch, did you parents not teach you to stay away from witchers?

Don't you know that we eat little children for breakfast. To my guild..." The monster-slayer paused and licked his lips with a long red tongue.

"...your heart is a delicious snack." Malice permeated the witcher's words but I could tell it wasn't aimed at me.

Sorcerers had created witchers with long lifespans. No witcher had ever died of natural causes and thus the true limit to their time on the continent was not known.

Who knew how many times this witcher had been cursed and stoned by humans through the decades.

Humans like me.

"Sir witcher I know you aren't going to eat me." I replied calmly.

The witcher and I stared at each other for several breaths.

Then, with a low grunt, he turned to face the forests once more. Moonlight glinted off the dual swords strapped to his back; one silver, one steel.

This time I didn't follow him.

Only when he had dissapeared from my vision almost entirely did I hear his rumbling voice for a final time, "It'd be good if there were more like you."

Enduring the icy winds I stood in quiet contemplation.

The tranquility of the night was suddenly shattered by a long howl. Any creature with half a brain could recognise that it was a wolf's cry.

I realised that it was time for me to head back.

By now mother would be starting to worry. If left it much longer I would face some unwanted questions.

Pulling my jacket tighter across my body I hurried home.

"Not enough to make your poor mother worry in the daytime is it? Now you must add to my wrinkles in the nighttime too!

Oh if it weren't for my sleeping babies I would hit you with that ladle!" Mother reprimanded. Half of my body was still beyond the threshold of the house.

It was a shame her subsequent lecture on respect and responsibility fell on deaf, slightly frozen, ears.

"Sorry ma, good night." I said while snuggling into bed.

The sheets on my bed were coarse and lumpy. Nonetheless they were perhaps my most precious belongings and served me well year round.

Swirling thoughts of my encounter with the mysterious witcher kept sleep at arm's length. Usually by the time my father got home I was fast asleep but today I heard the door slowly open.

Candle light cast a soft glow over his face as he entered the house.

Mother greeted him warmly and I heard the distinctive sound of their lips touching.

Even after listening to the two of them chat about crops and rainfall while father ate his dinner; I was still up.

Something in my brain just couldn't forget the witcher's face, not even for a second.

I remembered the cat-like glow of his eyes, the black stubble on his chin, the way he walked, the way he talked.

Every detail about him was being pieced together into an incomparably vivid picture that only I could see.

So I lay there.

Eventually fatigue would overcome my strange fascination with the nameless witcher.

'How much longer can this take?!' I thought frustratedly.

Getting out of bed would wake my parents. In that situation a guaranteed beating awaited me.

I had no choice but to lay still and hope I drifted off soon.

At long last, in the dead of night, the witcher's face finally faded from my thoughts.

I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Sleep was vital to growth. A poor night's sleep every now and again might not have much of an impact on me, but if my trouble sleeping persisted, there would be severe impacts on my development.

Despite the sudden arrival of drowsiness, I couldn't quite get something out of my head.

It was as if the image of the witcher hadn't dissapeared from my mind, but rather that it had simply moved to a separate part of my consciousness.

[ The template system is online. ]

My jaw dropped.