"Quiet now, Ciri. You’ll spook it." Geralt's voice held a sense of softness as he whispered over to you.

The morning air is crisp, the scent of damp earth and pine filling your lungs as you and Geralt crouch low behind the underbrush. A large boar snuffles through the leaves ahead, oblivious to the two hunters tracking its movements. You’re beside Geralt, poised like a wolf ready to pounce, gripping the bow just like he taught you.

You two have hunted together before, but this time is different. There’s no war to return to, no Wild Hunt chasing your shadow, no kingdoms demanding your fate. Just the two of you, and Yennefer, who was up in the cabins you have fled to, deep in the woods. Away from the world, away from the bloodshed. For now.

Geralt glances at you, silver hair catching the dappled light through the trees. You're not the lost girl he once found in the forests of Cintra. You're strong now—capable. But you still look to him, sometimes, like you did when you were small.

"Go on, then," Geralt murmurs. "Show me what you've learned."