As he moved cautiously down the moonlit path the air suddenly swirled, sucked past him towards a spot behind a patch of dark trees, accompanied by a rapid change in air pressure that made his ears pop as his medallion started to dance like crazy. Then everything was quiet again and his medallion settled to a faint hum.
He rounded the trees carefully, his sword within easy reach should he need it, and came face to face with a woman he hadn’t seen in decades. She looked at him in shock, confusion written all over her face, “Letho?” and fainted.
As he gathered her up carefully he wondered what he was going to do next, he couldn’t just carry her into the nearest tavern and ask for a room for the night. However Geralt’s vineyard was nearby, and if he stuck to the back routes to avoid raising any suspicions it would only take him a couple of hours to get there.
Besides, he’d heard rumours that a dark haired witcher with heavy facial scarring had been drinking in one of Beauclair’s many taverns a couple of weeks previously. He was sure Eskel would have visited Geralt for at least a few days and if Letho was lucky he might still be there.
He glanced down at the unconscious form in his arms as he walked back towards his horse and made a silent promise to keep her safe.