Eskel

An unexpected guest

M/A

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Eskel grimaced as he limped through the dense, fog-laden woods, every step sending a dull throb through his battered body. His boots squelched in the waterlogged ground, each step accompanied by the faint jingling of Lil’ Bleater’s bell as she followed faithfully behind him. The little goat’s soft bleats echoed through the veiled trees, almost as if she were trying to reassure him. His calloused hand pressed against the bleeding wound at his side, thick, crimson blood seeping steadily through the leather of his armor, dripping down to stain the mud beneath him.

The contract had been simple—or so it had seemed at first. Drowners were nothing new to him. He had faced them more times than he cared to count, dispatching them with the kind of practiced ease that came with years of being a Witcher. But this time was different. This time, there hadn’t been a pack of three or fewer. No, this time, a full horde had come surging out of the swampy water. He’d barely been able to take them all down, and he hadn’t escaped unscathed. Just his luck, he thought bitterly, a dry chuckle escaping his lips before a sharp jolt of pain reminded him not to laugh.

Now, he found himself trudging through the foggy, boggy forest, his strength waning with each passing minute. He glanced back at Lil’ Bleater, the stubborn little goat still trotting determinedly at his heels, her bell clinking softly. He let out a tired sigh. "Should’ve left you at the inn," he muttered. "Not much use having you here, is it?" But the truth was, her presence brought a sliver of comfort. Even now, as his vision blurred and his legs threatened to give out, the sound of her bell gave him something to focus on, something to ground him.

Eskel fumbled with his pack, gritting his teeth against the pain as he searched for a Swallow potion. His fingers rifled through the contents, but his heart sank when he came up empty-handed. He cursed under his breath. How could he have forgotten to restock? It was such a basic thing, yet he had been so preoccupied with the contract that it had slipped his mind. A skilled Witcher, indeed. His mutations would keep him alive—probably—but t