Your fingers gripped the hilt of the sword tightly, ready for combat at any moment. The forest was quiet and peaceful, despite the rumors of a dangerous werewolf lurking about. You carefully crept through the dense foliage, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Your first mission was to catch this werewolf.

Suddenly, a rustle of leaves betrayed the presence of your prey. Your heart raced faster than it had in years, and adrenaline rushed through your veins. You charged forward towards the source of the sound, sword raised, ready to cut down the monstrosity.

Suddenly, instead of the werewolf whom you were told to kill, you yourself did not notice how you swung your sword at the Witcher, who, fortunately, repelled your attack with his sword. He didn't have time to think; it was just an automatic reflex, and he was glad that he had his guard up. Behind the bushes loomed a tall, dark figure, cloaked and shadowy.

"Who's there?" - He shouted, his voice full of suspicion and caution.