ONE | THE KIKIMORA

The soft sounds of the running water from the creek calmed Caira's senses. She took a deep breath and concentrated on tracking the kikimora down. The blade of her sword rested gently on her shoulder, making sharp sounds as it grazed her jaw as she balanced the heavy weapon in her hands. Blaviken was a town much like the others in the north she had seen, with lots of forests and almost grayish in color. The woods were misty and Caira could barely keep her eyes on the lake in which the creek was running from. She knew the kikimora was down there, and she needed to kill it in order to receive her reward.

Carefully, she approached the lake once she saw little bubbles come up to the surface of the water. It was right in the center. Once she took one step forward, the kikimora launched itself out of the water with a man clinging to it. The man used his own sword to chop one of the monster's legs off. It shrieked in anger and the man continued to battle the beast until he was pushed underwater by its long leg.

Caira groaned and rushed over to the scene and used as much force as she could to chop off the monster's leg that was pinning the man underwater. The man resurfaced and gasped for air. He noticed Caira's presence, but redirected his attention to the kikimora. Before Caira could swing down her sword across the beast's throat, the man threw his sword and pierced the beast's skull in one swift motion while it was eyeing down Caira. The beast let out an unholy roar, then collapsed to the ground.

Caira gritted her teeth and turned to look at the man. His eyes were black and his hair as pale as his skin. His eyes gave away his true identity, a witcher. "That was my kill." She growled.

"Not anymore." The witcher mumbled to her, cocking his head. He began to trudge out of the murky water, turning his back on Caira—a bad idea.

Out of pure fury, she grabbed the dagger strapped to her leg and flung it at the white haired man, aiming for revenge for his theft. The dagger managed to lodge itself in the back of his thigh. The witcher barely made a peep, he merely reached back, pulled the knife out of him and turned to eye Caira—his eyes still demonically black. "Accident." Caira shrugged, folding her arms across her chest.

The witcher huffed at her.

* * *

"You told me to kill the kikimora! You didn't tell me you were going to send a witcher out there, too!" Caira slammed her fists on the countertop of the bar at the man whom had requested her services.

"The alderman must've hired him, I would never hire a mutant to come around here." The man behind the bar scoffed at her.

"Well—" Caira began to protest, but, the door to the ale house abruptly opened, causing her to shoot her head to look at who was entering the busy pub.

She rolled her eyes at the sight. It was the witcher she had seen slaughter the kikimora. He was wearing a cloak and his eyes were a golden color now. The man approached her and stood beside her as she leaned across the bar. "Your eyes," Caira pointed out, "they're not black anymore."

"Hm." The witcher grumbled in affirmation of her words. His huff was low and gruff.

"What are you here for? Looking for another job to steal?" Caira snickered at him.

The witcher pressed his lips into a thin line. "The alderman, tell me where he is and I'll be on my way."

A local heard the witcher and noticed his appearance, instantly recognizing him as a witcher. "You don't give the orders around here, you mutant son of a bitch." The peasant drunkenly stood up to the man.

The witcher simply flickered his eyes to peer at the local from the corner of his eyes, refusing to turn around to face him in order to avoid a fight. "Go. On your own, or at the end of a rope. Your choice." The innkeeper whom had hired Caira spoke up.

The witcher's eyebrows turned upward, seemingly to accept the challenge the innkeeper had so confidently proposed. "Not a hard choice."

"Yeah, fuck that. Kill him with your bare hands if you have to." The innkeeper announced, causing the dozens of men in the pub to jump to their feet, ready to attack the mutant.

"C'mon, witcher. You're not scared of us, are ya?" One of the men in the pub growled, with a crooked smile crossing his face. The witcher didn't want to cause a ruckus, but he would if he had to.

"Oh, please. Would you just knock it off?" Caira spoke up, taking a step in front of the witcher after watching the exchange of threats for far too long.

"But he's a—" one of the men began to protest.

Caira pulled out her sword and pointed it at his throat. "What did I say? Leave the man alone." She lifted her chin to look down her nose at the man, demeaningly.

The man gulped. "Yes, Caira."

The men all dispersed and Caira returned to the bar top. The witcher spun back around and scanned Caira's face, making no effort to hide that he was checking her out. "I'm not scared of you, if that's what you think this quiet apparition will earn you."

"That's too bad." His voice was low and coarse.

Caira sighed. "If you're going to continue to eye fuck me, at least tell me your name."

The witcher cleared his throat, taken aback by her curt words. "Geralt, of Rivia."

"Well, Geralt of Rivia, I hope our paths never cross again. I hope the coin you receive from the kikimora will earn you some new clothes. It looks like you need it." Caira winked at him before swiftly leaving the pub.