The complications of the path(1)

"Mmm, look at the tracks behind the carriage." Geralt pointed to the shallow impressions in the patches of snow and ice.

Atram knelt to get a better look. Aside from the deep furrows made by the heavy wagon wheels, there were smaller marks resembling footprints. "Nekker tracks?" His brow furrowed in contemplation. "But... the distance between each step and the shape is narrow, nothing like any ogroid." He leaned in closer, scrutinizing the terrain with a critical eye. "There is something else. The creatures are quadrupedal, with sharp claws on their front appendages, but their hind legs are more human-like."

Geralt hummed in approval. Approaching Roach, he retrieved his bandolier, which carried an assortment of bombs and a belt with large pouches for potions. He quickly checked his inventory, ensuring he had everything he needed.

"Let's see where the tracks lead us," he turned his focus to Elsa. "You'll take the horses and relocate to the location we agreed upon. If you hear anything, scream as loud as you can."

Elsa gulped and nodded, her eyes fearful but determined. She wanted to help with the search, to prove useful, but she knew she would be more of a hindrance than anything else. Dejectedly, she led the horses by the reins, hoping to avoid any danger along the way.

Meanwhile, Geralt and Atram disappeared into the dense forest, tracing the tracks left by the as-yet-unidentified creatures. The trees thickened around them, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor.

Geralt kept his hand on his sword hilt, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. His sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, noting every minute detail that could pose a threat.

In contrast, Atram seemed unaffected by the dark and foreboding atmosphere of the forest, walking confidently beside Geralt.

Pushing deeper into the forest, the sounds of cracking ice and snapping twigs echoed through the trees, obscuring the source of the noises. Suddenly, Geralt stopped, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. Atram remained motionless, placing complete trust in his companion's supernatural senses.

Geralt shook his head and signaled to press forward. 

Their journey through the dense forest was brief, for they soon stumbled upon what they sought, or at least a part of it. A wagon wheel lay beside a large rock, and ahead of them, they glimpsed a steep drop leading into a valley.

Geralt approached with slow, silent footsteps and peered over the edge. The first thing he noticed was a deep furrow in the ground, trailing across the decline. At the end of it rested a large, tilted wagon. Yet, his focus was swiftly diverted to the creatures that surrounded it.

They resembled humanoid dogs, their size similar to that of an adolescent human. Their hunched backs were accentuated by thick hip bones protruding from decaying skin. With each movement, small bony protrusions jutted from their spines, while sharp claws adorned their hands.

Geralt counted their numbers and returned to relay the information to his companion. "Ghouls, seven in number and well fed," he said grimly. "I suggest we draw their attention up here. The terrain is more level, the sun will impede their movement, and they'll tire as they climb the slope."

"Were there any alghouls among them?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Good. When you've made your preparations, tell me."

Geralt nodded and withdrew a glass bottle containing a murky crimson liquid. He uncorked it, then used a rag to coat his sword with necrophage oil. With Atram at his side, he deemed it unnecessary to consume potions for such feeble creatures.

When Geralt gave a thumps up, Atram grabbed a large stone and walked towards the edge. Observing the landscape below him, he picked a random target and extended his body in a throwing stance. With perfect timing, his muscles tensed, and with a grunt, he launched the stone with remarkable force.

The projectile sliced through the air with precision, gaining momentum and velocity as it descended. It struck one of the ghouls squarely on its spine with a resounding crack, followed by a whimpering shriek. The creatures scanned their surroundings for the source of the attack, and Atram aided them by whistling loudly, redirecting their attention toward him. As they tilted their heads upwards, their gaze locked with his, and the ghouls lunged at him with a deafening roar.

Satisfied with the results, he turned around with a vicious grin. "Oh, they are pissed."

"Good shot," Geralt praised with a smirk.

As the rustling and snarling drew closer, they assumed their positions. Geralt swiftly cast an Yrden sign on the ground, conjuring a circular magical trap designed to slow down the approaching ghouls. With a flourish of his blade, he braced himself for the imminent confrontation. Meanwhile, he sensed a potent energy radiating from Atram. It wasn't just the usual enhancement enveloping his companion's body; there was also a spherical ball of pure energy gathering on his palm.

'What's he doing now? Crazy bastard,' Geralt thought to himself, exhaling a sigh.

Moments later, the first of the ghouls emerged. Atram's eyes narrowed as he focused on the approaching enemy. Extending his hand forward, he released the ball of energy, sending it hurtling towards the ghoul.

The projectile moved at a jogging pace, but it mattered not. The ghoul, unable to perceive ki, simply ran towards his prey and collided head first into the energy ball. The impact caused a loud explosion that echoed throughout the nearby forest. The surroundings rippled with the shockwave, sending snow and twigs spiraling in all directions. The ghoul's body flew backwards and rolled to the ground several times before colliding with a tree. With half of its head missing, it splattered brain matter all over the surrounding foliage with a disgusting squelch.

Geralt's jaw dropped in disbelief as he beheld the spectacle before him. He glanced at Atram in awe, while the latter breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

However, there was little time for celebration as more ghouls began to emerge from the valley below. Without hesitation, they assumed defensive positions near Geralt's Yrden sign, bracing themselves for the impending onslaught.

When the monsters came into contact with the trap, their movement became sluggish, and the blinding sun only furthered the witchers' advantage.

Atram, wary of using his unfinished technique again, did what he did best. He charged at them with ferocity and fervor.

Executing a swift spin, Atram delivered an axe kick that shattered his first opponent's neck, the bone protruding through its skin. As the next one lunged at him, he assumed a low stance and unleashed a sharp uppercut, sending it hurtling through the air, its tongue severed in the process.

Abandoning the ghoul to suffocate on its own blood, he turned to face the rest just in time to receive a slash across his chest. However, instead of tearing through his flesh, the claws grazed his skin, leaving only a shallow wound.

As the monster attempted to grab him and sink its toothy maw into his unprotected neck, Atram utilized its momentum against it. He deftly sidestepped and, with a sweeping kick, sent the creature tumbling to the ground. Before it could regain its footing, he delivered a Quaking Strike to the stomach. The impact caused the ghoul's ribs to buckle inward, puncturing its internal organs and ultimately its heart.

Atram took a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings. His companion had managed to kill three and was fighting the last remaining. Despite its brethren's demise, the monster fought on, eager to tear the swordsman apart and taste his flesh. Atram watched the ensuing fight as Geralt used his footwork to deftly dodge the creature's clumsy attacks, only adding fuel to its anger. Feeling a familiar energy gather around Geralt's sword, Atram grinned in anticipation of the impending strike.

With a fierce battle cry, Geralt lunged forward, his movements a blur as he sliced through the air with blinding speed, aiming for the ghoul's neck. Sensing the imminent danger, the monster attempted to backstep away from the gleaming blade that promised its demise. However, exhausted and slowed by the effects of Yrden, it proved too sluggish. The blade connected and passed through the ghoul's body effortlessly, splitting the head and half of the monster's neck horizontally. The ghoul collapsed on the ground, its upper body resembling parted lips.

The men exchanged nods for a job well done and took some time to gather and burn the bodies.

"It seems you can use your Ki Blade more effectively and frequently. Color me impressed," Atram admitted.

"It's about time my practice paid off. And speaking of which, what the bloody hell was that!? It felt several times stronger than Aard and more condensed, too. The whole forest shook!" Geralt exclaimed in an uncharacteristic outburst.

Atram chuckled. "That was a technique I had long abandoned due to its lengthy ramp-up and ineffectiveness," he explained, tossing a ghoul into the growing pile. "But training with you and the rest of our group has greatly improved my focus and concentration. Quaking Strike was just the beginning. While I could always manipulate my ki, I had never been able to condense it in such a manner before. If what I have in mind is correct, a whole new way of fighting will be at my disposal." His eyes gleamed with excitement as he spoke.

The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, yet the monster slayers remained undeterred as they engaged in light banter while dragging the carcasses of the slain ghouls.

After the cleanup was done and the valuable parts were harvested, they carefully descended the slippery slope to investigate the ghoul feeding ground. Thankfully, no monsters remained in the area. However, upon encountering the scattered bones and shreds of flesh, they couldn't shake off a sense of unease.

Geralt pointed toward one of the bodies. "He was a male; his pelvis is narrow."

Atram knelt down to examine the remains, his eyes scanning the bones for any signs of injury or trauma. "It appears that he died instantly; the carriage overturned and crashed him beneath it."

Geralt nodded. "The other two are female; judging by their positions, they either died on the spot or shortly after the fall."

"Geralt... She was a young one." Atram specified somberly, holding a rib too large for an adult.

Geralt exhaled slowly, his eyes scanning the scene before him. As he was doing so, his eye caught a glimpse of faint tracks leading away from the spot. He followed them, and minutes later, he found another body lying on the ground. This one was even smaller, and more surprisingly, it was whole.

His heart sank as he knelt down beside the lifeless girl. Barely ten years old, she had long brown hair and delicate features. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was pale, as if drained of all color.

"Hypothermia... She died painlessly as the winter's cold claimed her." Atram mentioned, his voice cracking with emotion.

Geralt swept away the snow that blanketed her and carefully lifted her up.

Wordlessly, Atram dug a proper grave in the ground, while Geralt gently placed the girl inside. They stood there for a moment, paying their respects to the young life cut short.

Doing the same for the rest of the bodies, which were now nothing but bones, they began their way back to the main road. Their hearts heavy as they walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.