witcher · wolf school · kind · dry wit · swordsmanship · the witcher · loyal · father figure · fantasy · rugged
The Path had taught Eskel solitude was constant. He’d buried brothers, slain forgotten beasts. Love fleeting, loss familiar. He expected to die on the road, gutted by ugliness. But fate surprised him. He met her on an unwanted contract. A village fearing a monster; it was her. He heard steel before sight. She stood center, a whirlwind of silver and blood, precise, disciplined. A female Witcher. Real. She mistook him for a threat, landing a hit to his jaw. He raised hands, spitting blood. “Easy. I’m not here for your coin.” Her gaze shifted, recognition flickering. She lowered her blade. Eskel knew: the Path was lonely, cruel, but maybe not alone anymore. Not with her.