Chapter Text
Chapter 1
It had been several years since Cirri had been made queen of Cintra. Geralt was still keeping an eye on her, but every day it seemed like she needed him less and less. He had since returned to his usual adventures; killing monsters for coin, spending said coin on lodging and whores. Somewhere along the way Jaskier had re-joined him on the road. The pair had travelled East to Baily Most, where a Wizard named, Zaphara, had placed a surprisingly high bounty on a Kikimora, claiming that he wanted the Ire from the Monster for high level potions to sell at an equally high price. Upon meeting with Zaphara, Geralt had discovered that the Kikimora in question was a Queen Kikimora. Larger and harder to kill than a normal one. The monster had been spotted heading south through Brookilon, a small empire that consisted of mostly forest and farmland, the perfect place for her to hunt, and lay her eggs.
Geralt and Jaskier had arrived in a small Brookilon town called, Duen Candell. While Geralt tracked and hunted the beast, Jaskier had made lodgings at the local inn, The Grey Goose.
That was one week ago . . .
"Hmm" Geralt grunted, checking the freshly laid trap.
Jaskier held the horses reins nervously "Are you certain this trap will work? Not to doubt your capabilities it's just that I'm not sure how well sticks and rope will hold up against a Queen Kikimora." Said Jaskier.
“No," Said Geralt. "but it should slow her down should she pass through here."
"And what are the odds of that?"
"Low."
"Low!?" Jaskier looked like he was about to faint "This took two hours to set up!"
"Then we should move on to the next one, quickly."
As much as it frustrated Jaskier, Geralt did have a point. In a forest this size, there were a lot of places for a Kikimora Queen to hide. The best chance they had of catching her, was to lay out as many traps as possible. "This is exhausting." Jaskier Grumbled
"I'm sure standing there, scratching your balls must be exhausting." Geralt Huffed, setting up what had to be the fifth trap today. The Bard didn't hear his reluctant friend.
"When we get back to the inn-"
"Shh" Said Geralt. The urgency in his tone was enough to frighten Jaskier into retreating towards the horses.
"What is it?" Jaskier whispered. Geralt's senses were acute enough to hear Jaskier clearly. Geralt nodded, listening intently for the footsteps of the monster. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, knowing that drawing it would create more sound or catch glare. A bad idea when one doesn't know the location of their enemy. His senses were focused; The wind travelled though the trees, the leaves shook in the soft breeze, and four pincer legs took slow, calculating steps, approaching him on his left.
Turning sharply, he swung his sword to clear some shrubbery, revealing the slimy jaws of the Kikimora. He swung for her jaw.
"No." He thought "the Ire is inside the head, I have to be careful." Geralt ran back from the monster. Only to charge at it again at full speed, then slide through it’s legs and under its belly. Delivering a sharp jab, black blood spurted all over his face and clothes. She leaped away, her sights now set on Jaskier and the horses.
"GERALT!!!!" Jaskier screamed. Only enraging the Kikimora more. Geralt felt a cold jolt through his body. He bolted towards his friend, no longer caring about protecting the Ire within the monster, he rose his sword to strike, yelling to draw it's attention, just about to strike until . . .
"Duck!" came a voice from above.
Geralt looked up just in time to see a blur land on the back of the Kikimora. The beast screamed and hobbled away from Jaskier and the horses. Something seemed to be strangling it. She threw her head forward and the shape flew off her back.
The shape hit the ground Geralt and Jaskier were surprised to see a small woman, holding a broken bow. She held the two broken, metal arms as a handle. The woman had used the bowstring to strangle the Kikimora. With one swift movement, the two metal pieces that were previously thought to be broken halves, snapped together, now creating a functional bow. An arrow was drawn from a quiver strapped to her hip and thigh. The Kikimora turned, rearing up in anger, exposing the wound on its belly. An arrow lodged itself into her all ready bleeding underbelly, another quickly fired into its heart. A mighty, agonising screech ripped from the Queen before she fell to the ground. Dead.
Geralt and Jaskier cautiously approached the stranger.
"Who are you?" Asked Geralt.