#thewitcherzine

"Wanna hear about my first monster, Roach?" her Witcher asks.

He doesn't know that she's heard this story before. He doesn't know that she was there.

~*~

She can't remember how it happened—why she keeps coming back. But she remembers everything else, from the very beginning of her first life. She was raised in the winter place—Kaer Morhen, her Witcher calls it—and learned how to snuff out the prey-fear she was born with, learned that following her Witcher was more important than life.

They could have just told her that she'd get more than one.

But she doesn't think anyone else comes back from being not-alive. She's seen her Witcher grieve, when he stinks of iron-blood sometimes and he's alone except for her, and she presses her face against his chest and lets him hide the curve of his mouth in her coat.

It'd be nice if they could all come back. She loves her Witcher, but she's tired of smelling him in mourning.