Amalthea leaned against Geralt and turned her head to press her face against him. She breathed, or tried to remember to, and struggles to resist the way of feeling in her.
That the witcher was afraid, and at least willing to admit it to a unicorn-turned-into-a-girl, brought a strange comfort. She was not alone.
"I cannot bring myself to linger in Cabeswater... I have not been able to bring myself to step foot in it, only stand outside it and stare. Something calls sickly to me. If it caught me, it would not let go."
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That the witcher was afraid, and at least willing to admit it to a unicorn-turned-into-a-girl, brought a strange comfort. She was not alone.
"I cannot bring myself to linger in Cabeswater... I have not been able to bring myself to step foot in it, only stand outside it and stare. Something calls sickly to me. If it caught me, it would not let go."