A Swallow's Path

(Narrator's Pov)

The ice was sitting in patches on the surface of the cobbled path. The stone itself was tinted deep blue-and-black, a mixture of mud and ice. The night was still and the darkness hung like a frozen cloak. By the side of the covered path the trees bent over the trail, with the silent strain of the snowfall acting as though a shield to the unforgiving chill. They seemed akin to a gathering of wolves bickering in quiet shadows. As the icicles weaved intricate patterns between the weeds and undergrowth.

There were no footprints in the heavy, thick snow. No traces of movement. No sign of life. . The dome of dark blue and black above stretched infinitely into deeper blues and deeper blacks of the ever moving sky of Nirn. Stars littered the canvas of Oblivion. As Masser and Secunda reflect the pure light from Aetherius that shines through Magnus, indicating a full moon. The air itself seemed to hang solidly there, not waiting; just being. Everything was frozen. Everything still. And the stillness and the silence held each other in an eerie embrace.

Small footsteps began to echo around the frozen trees. Along the icy path came a man. A man with free flowing silver locks, long enough to reach his elbows, but styled in such a way in which his sharp, pointed, ears peaked through. A set of pale blue eyes that seemed to hold locked mysteries beyond any normal man or mer's understanding.

The man, fitted in light raven-black metal plate that seemed to suck in the remaining light. A fitted yet tattered cloak chained to his elegant pauldrons, that when followed to his right gauntlet, presented his knife like fingers unlike his simply gloved left.

He continued on his path. Muffled rustlings could be heard here and there by the sides of the shimmering undergrowth, as the echoes ensued from the noise of the man's steps and subtle kinks of plate colliding.

His torch was shone up into a tree and the snow sparkled in the sweeping beam of light, and then as the beam swung back around, the branch returned to lurking shadows. Missing the short gleam of gold the veil of night kept hidden. The sabatons of the man's armour were furiously thumped into the icy cobbles as he halts his steps. Cracking the hard patches of crystal clear ice.

*Sniff*

*Sniff*

'Wet dog?' The man questions.

"Let's just hope it's not a pack of wolves again." The man whispers under his breath. He begins to slowly survey his surroundings, looking for any indication of movement beyond the tree line.

As the rustling begins to increase and the soft thuds of an unknown creature rapidly strum rhythmically towards the now alert man.

A clear blue spell begins to materialise in his off-hand, as he slowly draws a rusting blade from his hip, discarding his torch to the cold, hard, ground.

The wind picks up to a carry a long and drawn out howl across its newly building gale. Filling the unnamed man with a new sense of danger.

"Fucking werewolf!" The man cursed.

A burst of movement from within the darkness causes the man to roll to his side as a hulking mass of pitch black flies by, narrowly missing his exposed hand that unleashed the short bolt of lightning at the flying shadow.

The man scrambles to his feet. Desperate to make room between him and the now frenzied beast in front of him.

'Come on Lucius, you're better than that!'

Sizzling flesh is heard as the man, now known as Lucius, turns around to face his wounded foe.

The sickening sound of bubbling skin, combined with the stench of the singed fur and flesh fills his senses. Lucius takes this time to organise his thoughts

'Lycanthropy. Turns men cursed by Hircine into a werewolf at a full moon.'

'Weak at the ankle. Weak at the wrist. Once immobilised or wounded to its mobility, becomes increasingly easy to kill.'

A short breathe leaves Lucius's nose.

"Stupid mutt." Lucius muttered with ill-hidden contempt.

He throws off another bolt of lightning whilst beginning his charge, intending to carve himself a new bedroll of wolf hide for the blasted chill.

Yet, the wolf does not sit idle. Preparing to lunge and Lucius's exposed figure.

However, before either beast or man could react, a thick blanket of viridian light banishes the surrounding dark of night.

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(??? Pov)

In a beautiful valley filled with evergreen trees scattered across steep cliffs and rolling hills. The skies filled with birds and harpies. Shores littered with drowners and hags.

The amber hues of the setting sun bounce off the chalky, rocky slopes. Casting a wide birth of shadow over the distant, crumbling ruin of Kaer Morhen. The once great keep of Witchers.

A flash of green snaps at a clear patch of grass. Cleaving away the rich green blades and fallen leaves, making room for an ashen haired woman with green eyes and a man with a mane as white as snow.

'I have to be quick.' Thought the girl with urgency.

'He's stable, he'll live. That's whats important for now. I need to get out of here before those damned wraiths come back for me. Before i endanger him, and all the others once they find him.'

'I'm so stupid! Why didn't i plan anything? Or, at least try to use some semblance of intelligence.'

A controlled breath later.

'They'll never stop hunting me now they know what my blood can do.'

'I'm sorry, Geralt.'

Emerald green eyes take one last sad look at the man she considers father, before disappearing in a last entrancing flash of green.

Not for many a moon, will the girl lay eyes upon these vibrant hills again.

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First chapter done and dusted.

Should i add pictures of the settings or is the description good?

I'm not really sure how i felt about certain parts, but this does give me the foundation i need to build my desired narrative.

Please, comment your thoughts.

Next chapter will be meeting of Main character and female lead.

Thanks for reading.

P.S. Yes, the chapter name is indeed related to a masterful artist called The Weeknd.