The werewolf had been one of the larger ones Aiden had ever encountered, and remarkably deaf to reason. It seemed nearly frenzied, Aiden had noted passively as its teeth snapped inches from his face, not unlike the water-madness some dogs showed. It managed to tear a chunk of Aiden away with it, that soft, fleshy bit where neck meets shoulder, which was the chance Aiden needed to run it through the throat.
Only now he was left with a werewolf corpse and a wound that was bleeding in a way he couldn’t be cavalier about. He clumsily took the trophy to present for pay, and then staggered to his poor horse waiting patiently at the fringe of the forest.
Aiden should have known better than to trust White Orchard folks, though. They took advantage of his injury to try and short him his pay, also try to kill him in the process. So it goes. How they managed to rope some soldiers into helping was mystery he intended to find out later. He managed to get away, barely, although three of the bolder men kept up a pursuit far longer than he expected.
He found a shack along the way, old and a little shabby, but there was a warm light from within and an odd atmosphere hanging around it that he didn’t have time to wonder over. He slid from his horse’s back and smacked her on the flank to send her deeper into the woods. He could find her later.
He didn’t waist time pounding on the door, instead staggering inside and shutting it behind him quickly. He must have looked a fright—cat eyes, wild hair, clutching a neck gushing blood and armed to the teeth with weapons.
“Hide me,” he demanded hoarsly, noting that he was bleeding on her clean floor. “I’ll pay you.”
UPON HEARING THE sounds of the town villagers chasing what sounded like a man triss sighed softly, pulling the drape aside to look out the window ; pausing when she saw the man in question running towards the direction of her temporary shack. pulling silently away from the window she huffed, turning back to the fire and crossing her arms before her stomach. her temporary housing was just a run down shack on the exterior --- but inside, it was very much the home of a sorceress.
when the door burst open and locked behind the stranger a fireball lit up in her hand as she whirled about --- eyes wide with surprise as she saw.. a witcher? a heavily bleeding, dying, witcher. gods that brought her back to a time she’d rather not remember in this time; his request was.. considered, before she sighed and used a gentle magic to conceal her house from view.
after a moment the men with torches ran by shouting expletives --- likely running after some sort of horse? she was unsure, but she did hear hoof-beats run past when this witcher came inside.
“ fine, ” her voice was soft; tired, him having caught her after she was working on something. “ stay still. ”
with this she circled him once, eyes quickly examining his state of being before her hand reached forth --- less than an inch above the heavily bleeding wound upon his shoulder and neck. she recognized the type of bite immediately from experience, “ that was a big werewolf.. ” with this she healed him slowly, the muscles of his body repairing themselves.
“ this is going to hurt, witcher. ”
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