I am lost. I made peace with that fact a few hours ago. My orientation isn't the best really. I knew that, even if I'd never willingly admit it. That, however, isn't anything new nor the worst thing possible. I know how to survive, my mother’s a herbologist of sorts and she taught me everything about what was edible or not, just in case.
What is bad, though, is that... fiend that’s currently chasing me, stretching out its long, clawed fingers towards me as I’m trying to run away. The gods know I wouldn't last long, not against a monster as fast as this.
I cry out when I feel a sharp pain in my right leg, but I resist the urge to look at it, in favour of pushing my body to move faster .
I hear a cry echoing through the dark forest. Instantly, my whole body tenses, ears pricked to pick out any sound. It sounded like a human voice - thankfully not Jaskier's, though. The bard should safely be at the inn, playing his
The sound wasn't very far away. I can hear feet running - or limping - towards me, branches cracking under careless feet. I can almost smell the human's fear under the pungent stink of werewolf. What kind of idiot stumbles through a forest during a full moon?
Unsheathing my silver sword, I sprint deeper into the underbrush --
And find myself with a handful of bard clinging to my armour.