Killing Monsters

The rain lashed down as Geralt of Rivia rode through the darkened woods, the rhythmic thud of Roach's hooves a familiar sound in the oppressive quiet. He was returning from a contract, the weight of his kill a tangible presence behind him. The night was cold, the stars obscured by thick clouds, and the steady drizzle was enough to make most sensible folk stay indoors. Geralt pulled his hood tighter around his head, his cat-like eyes scanning the tree line.

Suddenly, Roach skittered to a halt, flicking her head back with a nervous whinny. "Woah. Easy Roach. Easy girl," Geralt murmured, stroking her neck to soothe her. He scanned the surrounding darkness, his senses on high alert, searching for what had spooked his mare. His gaze landed on a faint glow through the trees – lights on another trail.