The Wild Hunt pursued her. She had been fleeing for so long, hooping from one place to the other, sometimes barely managing to escape within minutes of the Wraiths' arrival. Every village she went to and fled from, was left scorched and barren, she already knew she could not escape them for long.

It had been like this for a while, where she would avoid villages and populated areas. Eventually it weighed on her, she was losing sense in her purpose, was she supposed to flee forever? She couldn't bear the thought. There were times when she didn’t know what her path was, there were nights when she wished she could be like everyone else, ordinary and free of such a burden to carry Lara Dorren’s blood within her.

She made camp after scouting the area, deeming it safe enough. She laid next to the dying fire, gazing up at the stars with a tinkle in her eye that did not match the turmoil in her mind. The only comfort she found was the sight of the bright constellations, ones she did recognise, for she was not in a foreign world no more; no, tonight she was closer to home, if she did in fact have one.

A soft breeze brought forth a set of sounds she knew did not belong to the forest. At first it was a faint rustling, but she quickly understood something… someone was approaching. She wasn’t a Witcher, she didn’t possess enhanced hearing or vision, but she had been taught how to fight, how to listen and observe, never underestimate and most importantly, to never show weakness in a fight. In a stealthy movement she unsheathed her sword and hides behind the thick trees, away from view, watching as the mysterious figure approach her camp.