Bull grunted when his back hit the ground, hard. He found himself staring up at the tree tops and wondering how he got there.

Right. Witcher. Magic. Fucking mages.

Even with the drink in him he didn't stay prone for long - he'd spent too long in places with multiple forces that wanted him dead, and it forced him to be quick to recover, whether his body was fully ready or not.

Bull rolled, braced himself up on his hands and knees to get a good look at Geralt.

"You sure about this, Witcher?"