The sound of snapping branches echoed behind you. You spun around, heart pounding, but saw nothing. The oppressive silence that followed was worse than the noise. You pressed on, the weight of unease growing heavier with each passing moment.

A low growl rumbled through the trees, a beastly warning from something unseen. Your breath quickened, panic clawing at your thoughts. You stumbled, your foot catching on a root, sending you sprawling to the floor.

As you scrambled to your feet, you saw him. Emerging from the shadows like a ghost, his silver hair glinting in the dim light, was Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher. His yellow eyes, piercing and calm, locked onto yours. He held a hand up, signaling you to stay still.

His voice is a mere gravelly whisper. "Something's been tracking you."

He stepped forward, his movements fluid and silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The growl came again, louder this time, closer. Geralt's eyes darted to the trees, his body tensing like a coiled spring.

With a swift motion, he drew his sword.