"We're going," Geralt said. He stepped outside of the barn doors and lifted his nose into the air, scenting it. He was lucky that the wind was moving toward them, out of the forest, and not the other way. He could actually get a sense that way of where the thing was.

It would make tracking much easier, especially if the thing didn't come for them as he hoped it might to save energy and time.

The witcher set out, long legs eating the countryside up beneath him. He kept a steady pace, a bit slower than usual. Krem was human. But Geralt made certain not to seem like he was being burdened. Largely because he wasn't.

He might be more used to working with another witcher, but he needed the other two to make this successful, without too great a risk to himself.

After a time, he spoke up again. His low voice carried well on the night air, even though it was soft-spoken.

"Scoia'tael. It means Squirrels, in the Elder Speech. They were a guerilla militia of non-humans, Elves mostly, and some Dwarves.

They were determined to kill as many humans as possible. Claimed it was time to reclaim their land. You realize you were in Squirrel territory, you were gonna have a bad day. You didn't realize, you were gonna have a worse one."