Geralt found the chapel the book spoke of. At least what the book was calling a chapel. In truth, it was just a shrine, covered in cookies and other treats. He crouched, picking one up and crushing it in his hand, all manner of grubs crawling across his glove.

"So this is the Trail of Treats," he said.

This was very much like the tale of Hansel and Gretel, lost children that followed a similar trail to be murdered by a child-hating hag, who coincidently thought their blood would make her younger. A cautionary tale for children not to wander the woods alone. Geralt followed the trail and saw how it was literally a trail of treats. He soon found himself in a small village.

"Dog went in the kitchen," a boy was singing. "Stole a hunk of meat."

A little girl followed. "Cook gave him a lickin', strung him by his feet."

Another boy took up the rhyme. "Cook then bled him empty, stripped his skin off clean."

Geralt turned a corner as a second girl said the next line. "Laughed and said, 'How tasty, best sausage I have seen!'"

"Cook's a stupid killer, shouldn't have ate the pup."

"Now we'll light a fire, gonna roast him up!"

"One, two, three, the one to fetch the kindling's... thee!" Five children were reciting the rhyme and they all stopped when they saw Geralt.

"Interesting rhyme," he commented.

"Don't know you," a little blond-haired girl said. "Go away!"

"A young woman got lost in the swamp. She has ashen hair and a scar on her face. You kids see anyone like that?"

"Ain't no lassies here," a little boy said.

"What am I?" The blond girl asked.

"You're no lassie. Lassies got tits!"

Geralt was a bit surprised that a boy his age would say something like that. At least a non-Witcher training boy.

"They do," another boy confirmed. "Heard an 'ol man say once, when the army was here, he says, 'Hide them lasses in the woods. They's dazzling the soldiers with their tits, and it's torturing the poor lads!' That's what he said."

"Listen," Geralt cut off any more talk of tits. "This girl is in trouble. I understand you might not want to help me, but you could try to help her."

"How do you know she was here?" the first boy asked.

"I heard she visited the witches in the swamp."

"But there's no witches here," the second boy said.

"There's only frogs," the blond girl said.

"And snakes," the first boy added.

"And Johnny," the second boy said.

"What's this talk?" an old woman said, walking up to them. "What kind a' jabbering is this? Eh?"

The kids went silent.

The old woman turned to Geralt. "No one allowed here! Just kids. My kids, they're allowed. But who are you? Wearing swords, like a bandit?"

"You look after these kids?"

"They're my grandchildren."

"Gran's good to us," the first boy defended her. "Gonna be soup with scratchings for supper!"

"Kids get lost in the woods... I miss 'em... Seen 'em in the woods? No one has."

"Who's Johnny?"

"Johnny, Johnny, ate a cat," the second boy said with a grin. "Come the morn some fur he shat!"

"Watch your language!" Gran scolded. "They tells tales and tales. Naught but tales."

"Just talking to the kids. Asked them if they'd seen a young woman."

"I was a lovely young woman. Wore a long beautiful braid my mummy did up for me. Had dresses with flowers on 'em."

"Maybe you've seen her. Young... Ashen hair."

"Your betrothed?"

"Daughter, actually."

"Daughter... my dear sweet little daughter and her sister. Where are they now? Maybe they've come to some harm...?"

Geralt realized this woman's cheese was no longer on her cracker. "A bit of help, please? A young, ashen-haired woman. I just need to know if you've seen her."

Gran turned to the children. "What are you looking at, children? Wash your hands, we'll go catch crickets."

"Won't learn anything from you."

"Aye, 'cause I don't know nothin'"

"Bet Johnny knows," The second boy said. "He knows a lot. When I ask 'im somethin', he says, 'Wait, I'll scratch my arse and tell ya.'"

"Ugly word!" Gran said. "What're saying?" She pointed. "To the hut. You'll stand in a corner. I'll make sure you do." The boy headed to the hut and Gran looked at Geralt. "You, begone. Begone!"

Geralt convinced the kids to distract Gran so he could talk to their friend in exchange for playing hide-and-seek with them, as their grandmother never would play with them. Geralt couldn't help but smile at their excitement. After the game, the kids did as they promised.

One of the boys ran up to the house while Geralt watched from around the house.

"Gran!" the boy cried. "Gran! Bumblebee bit Yagna in the arse! Gran, come!"

Gran came out and headed towards the children.

Geralt waited until Gran was away from the hut before slipping inside. The boy's eyes widened and he backed away from the Witcher.

"Don't be afraid."

"Don't know nothin'," he said, looking down.

"I won't hurt you."

"Where's Gran?"

Geralt knelt down to be level with the boy. "She's busy. Why are you scared to talk?"

"I'm not scared of nothin'!" he said, stomping his feet.

"All of you are scared of something. Woulda told me about Johnny otherwise."

"I'm worried about Johnny. He don't come 'round here no more. Once when we was mushroom pickin', I saw his burrow. But Gran yelled at me. Says not to talk to strangers. 'cause then kids go missin'. She worries about Johnny too, though she says he's made up."

"I just want to talk to Johnny. He could know more than you."

"Not gonna hurt 'im, right? 'Cause, he's real, not made up."

"I'm not gonna hurt him. Promise."

"Johnny used to be by, 'cause Gran liked listenin' to his songs. When we was pickin' mushrooms, Johnny said he saw a girl with ashen hair in the swamp."

"Where can I find Johnny?"

"There's a little meadow on the edge of the swamp. This strange tree grows there. Look around, you'll see 'im."

"Thank you." Geralt left the hut.

Gran's back was to him as he emerged, the kids arguing over who was the last one to say "arse", the blond girl crying and Gran demanding that a girl with brown braids apologize to her. The girl saw Geralt and he nodded at her. She then apologized to the blond girl for saying mean things to her as Geralt made his way into the swamp.

Finding the meadow and tree the boy spoke of, Geralt tracked Johnny to his burrow using his footprints. Once there, Geralt crouched in front of it

"Johnny?" he called.

A few moments passed before a blue-tinged face with big yellow eyes peeked around the corner. Seeing Geralt, Johnny disappeared back around the corner.

"Don't be afraid."

Johnny seemed to change his mind about Geralt and decided to come out. He had the appearance of a 10-year-old boy with bluish skin and black hair, twigs forming a crown around his head. He had a red bandana around his shoulders and a loincloth around his waist.

Geralt could tell immediately the boy wasn't human. "You're a bucca?"

Johnny shook his head.

"A lutin?"

He shook his head again.

"Ah, a godling."

Johnny smiled and nodded his head.

"Not many of you left."

Godlings were extremely rare relict-class creatures, mischievous but harmless and mostly kept to the woodland areas.

"I'm looking for a woman with ashen hair. Seen her?"

Johnny nodded.

"Tell me everything, from the start. Where did you see her, what was she doing? It's very important to me."

A sad look crossed Johnny's face and he shook his head.

"Why not?"

Johnny covered his mouth with one hand and pointed at it with the other.

"Can't talk?"

Johnny nodded.

"Why?"

Johnny started making random gestures.

"Lost your voice?"

Johnny nodded.

"Can I help you somehow?"

Johnny grabbed Geralt's hand and tugged. Geralt stood with a grunt and Johnny led him through the swamp to a cliffy area. Johnny pointed to the top of the cliff.

"Something's on the ledge that can get your voice back?"

Johnny nodded.

"Looks like I'm climbing."

Johnny grinned and nodded, seemingly happy for the help. Geralt found a way to the top of the cliff and found a bottle in an old harpy nest. He returned to Johnny and handed him the bottle. Johnny took it excitedly before struggling to open it. Just as Geralt was about to offer to open it for him, the top came off and a breeze seemed to come out of it.

"Whiskey!" Johnny said, gleefully. "Slither! Ringworm! Rubbish! Bumblebee! Flabbergasted!" He laughed. "The sound of it! Peter Piper picked Prince Proximo a peck of pickled peppers by the Pontar!" He laughed again, amusing Geralt with his antics.

"Done celebrating?"

"My favorite words. Life without savoring the sound of 'surrpendious shannacking' is like licking snails through cloth. Thank you for this, noble whoever-you-are. Long be your life." Johnny turned to leave.

"Hang on a minute," Geralt stopped him. "I helped you, now you help me."

"Would you turn this beautiful act of altruism into a banal bartering of favors?"

"How'd you lose your voice?"

"One morning I awoke and opened my mouth for my usual bout of singing with the thrushes. Lo and behold, no sound escaped. I tried and tried, almost burst a blood vessel. Then I went to the village, 'cause word has it the new cunning woman works miracles. But people began crying out 'a smudger! A smudger!' and sicced their dogs on me." Johnny crossed his arms. "Do I look like a smudger to you?"

"Not a bit."

Smudgers, like godlings, were mischievous, but their mischief usually led to injuries. Not to mention they were mud brown and looked like hunched over old men.

"I thought not. So it must be the Crones' doing. Who else would curse me? Blackbird friend of mine located my voice, but I was helpless to retrieve it."

"Couldn't ask a raven friend to just give you the bottle?"

"Ravens serve the Crones. They don't help no one."

"How do you lock someone's voice in a bottle? Just wondering."

"As am I! Especially as mine's a voice to crown all voices. Sometimes it's like a forest brook, at others a roll of thunder. And let's be honest, I talk enough to fill three barrels and more."

"Somebody used some powerful magic on you, as a prank or just to be mean. You said you saw the ashen-haired woman."

"Remember it as if it were yesterday. Soon as I awoke, went to empty my bowels. My favorite part of the day. Defecatin' to the sunrise, downright glorious. Suddenly, I heard a bang, so loud I knew it couldn't have been me. And that lass appeared, out of nowhere! Young, ashen-haired, just like you said. Wounded, and panting to boot."

Geralt's brows furrowed. He didn't like the sound of that.

"She raced off towards the children's huts. Quick, as if the Crones were after her. I yelled unpleasantries after her, she'd disturbed my morn. Don't think she heard me, though."

"I've been to the village in the swamp, met a woman who might've been a Crone."

"Did she seem... confused to you?"

"Nuts. Completely."

"So I'm not crazy. That's no Crone. That's the granny who takes care of the orphans. Claims the kids made me up. Me!"

"What do you know about the Crones?"

"They're as old as this forest. Cruel, vindictive... not to be crossed."

"What if someone does cross them?"

"Might take his voice, might take his life, depends on their whim. They're nasty, although they do take care of this land and its folk in their own way. Supposedly they always keep their word, you just have to be careful what you ask for. Won't find them unless they want to be found, see them until they want to be seen. But remember, they see and hear all that happens in the mire."

Geralt nodded. "The woman ran off towards the orphanage. Maybe the kids do know something, or Gran."

"That old hag don't speak to strangers. And you're a stranger."

"Will she talk to you?"

"I have spoken to her, got my ways." Johnny smiled. "So be it. You helped me, and I'm no boor. Come on!" Johnny ran through the swamp, Geralt following after him.

~~~

After speaking to Glenna and the blacksmith, Juray ventured into the forest to track down Hanna, fighting off a pack of wolves not long after entering.

"Witcher?"

Juray turned to find that Hanna's sister had followed her into the woods. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be in the forest alone."

"I came to tell you, you needn't look for Hanna. She'd've returned long past were she alive. I'll pay you twice Neillen's pledge, just to tell the man his Hanna's dead."

"Are you daft? You want me to give up looking for your sister? Don't you want to know what happened?" Juray thought the whole thing smelt fishy.

"I've no illusion, Witcher. In Velen, you're gone as long as she's been, you don't come back. Hanna's dead for certain. Neillen ought to accept that and move on with his life."

Juray crossed her arms. "Most people would prefer to know the fate of their loved ones, whatever the cost. I would."

"What good will it do? I'll not get my sister back, and Neillen's all I got left. I can't lose him too. And, well, he'll not rest til he avenges his Hanna, even if it eats up his life. The man deserves better."

"The man deserves to know what happened to his wife."

The sister frowned. "You'll still look for her, even with me offering twice the coin."

"Yep."

"Folk speak true about you Witchers, you're heartless beasts!" She turned and stormed off.

"Apparently not as heartless as you are." Juray was now suspecting that Hanna had been a victim of foul play and was determined to find out the truth.

Near the wolves, she found deep claw marks and a dog that had been torn to shreds. She sniffed the air, having caught the scent of human blood. She followed the smell and soon found the pieces of what she was sure had been a woman.

"This must be Hanna. Literally torn to pieces. Has to be a werewolf."

She searched the area until she found large paw prints that led to a tree and a tuft of fur. Since the werewolf seemed to have climbed the tree, she used scent to track the werewolf to a hunter's cabin. Inside, Juray searched for clues, finding the werewolf's journal. He apparently locked himself in the cellar around the full moon to protect the rest of the village from his curse.

Juray sighed. "And tonight is a full moon," she said. "Gotta prepare, then wait for the bastard downstairs. Apparently, he didn't lock himself tight enough and killed Hanna." She then frowned. "Wonder if the sister knew about this."

Juray prepared for her fight, then went to the cellar to wait for the werewolf's arrival.