"That's the spirit. A witcher's greatest tool is a calm mind."
With a soft smile reserved only for a few, he gestured ahead of them.
"Lead the way."
It's been a long season on The Path, and as usual, money and food are scarce in equal measures.
Geralt is foraging for what he can, mushrooms, wild onions and other tubers. You eat what you can get in the life of a witcher.
It doesn't mean he's happy about it.
Geralt has retreated into himself, as he often did when struck with a foul mood.
He's spending some time alone, his steel sword unsheathed and held against the ground as he meticulously wipes it with a cloth soaked in lemon juice, his milky hair flowing over it as he bends his head down.
"How about a walk, then? Saw a bloated Ghoul along the path up to here. Very scenic."
And still such a long way to go.
"I know that look. Should I even ask?"
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