"I am quite comfortable in the woods, but this..."

"Hazzah for civilization," Gawel replied, but keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry any further and insult anyone. Truthfully Gawel had little love for places like this either. He liked cities but he enjoyed the rick places cities offered and the wide variety of people. Here they were nearly always cut from the same cloth, poor, dirty, disgusting, and given to fanciful tales simply to brighten up their rather miserable lives.

"I certainly am glad I decided not to change into my spotless dress."

"As am I or I would be forced to start defending your virtue if only to get some peace and quiet," he said, though his tone left no doubt he would do no such thing.

"So what is a Tamerian Red? Is it alcohol?"

"Of course," Gawel replied, mildly surprised that she had not heard of it before. "A very fine red wine." Sure enough their drinks were brought to them, Gawel's a cloudy yellow beer that had him wishing he had ordered a wine as well, and a clear red wine in a cone-shaped glass. Gawel took a swig, grimaced and took another to wash the taste down.

"Why do the men keep staring at me like that? It's very disconcerting, and even sending some very cold magic into them hasn't deterred them for very long."

"Of course they stare," Gawel said. "You are an attractive young woman wearing fine clothes that speak of wealth beyond their dreams. What's more you wear no wedding ring so have no husband to come crashing on their door if they decide to take advantage of you. And I would advise against using magic here. People in these kind of towns tend to be very superstitious and, starved for entertainment I often am in these places, I don't fancy a witch burning."

"You are an attractive young woman wearing fine clothes that speak of wealth beyond their dreams. What's more you wear no wedding ring so have no husband to come crashing on their door if they decide to take advantage of you. And I would advise against using magic here. People in these kind of towns tend to be very superstitious and, starved for entertainment I often am in these places, I don't fancy a witch burning."

Sara felt for sure that her cheeks were going to begin smoking with how hot they felt. To help cover it, she followed his lead and took a delicate sip from her glass, surprised at how smooth the wine was. She took another sip, savoring the rich flavor and even enjoying the light burn it sent down her throat, seemingly creating its own warmth throughout her body. "This is very good." She commented, taking a larger sip after swirling the blood red contents around the glass. "I'm glad it's not very strong. I must reveal to you a secret. I have never had alcohol before, unless you count a single sip I stole from my mentors glass when she wasn't looking. That was awful stuff."

With how self conscious she felt with all of the mens eyes on her, but aware they took pains to avoid looking at Gawel too long, she moved her chair closer to him and rested her free hand on his forearm. She raised the glass to her lips, enjoying the wine and the physical contact, even one so small as they shared. "I think this will keep them at bay. They don't seem too keen on staring at you." After setting her empty glass down on the table, she shot another question to Gawel.

"How many mugs of beer will get you drunk, as opposed to a regular man?"

"This is very good."

"The best," he replied. In truth he hadn't expected this particular tavern to have any but he was glad they did. That is, until, Sara continued speaking.

"I'm glad it's not very strong. I must reveal to you a secret. I have never had alcohol before, unless you count a single sip I stole from my mentors glass when she wasn't looking. That was awful stuff."

"Er," Gawel started, then he shut his mouth and took another sip to hide a grin. Tamerian Red was one of the strongest wines around as well, it was meant to be sipped lightly over good company and good entertainment. He was about to warn her that, despite the taste, it actually was quite strong, then decided against it; it would be quite amusing to see her drunk he decided.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow when she rested a hand on his arm and sat very close. Clearly she hadn't drank anything before and just as clearly the alcohol made her a lot more confident and flirty. Maybe it would be an interesting evening after all, he decided with an altogether amused smile on his face.

"How many mugs of beer will get you drunk, as opposed to a regular man?"

Gawel shrugged. "Just the regular amount, I suppose, maybe a little more. I think the main difference comes more from the duration I remain drunk as opposed to ordinary humans."

Not long after a meal was placed before them and Gawel nodded his thanks, tipping the waitress rather well. It was a plain fair, a fairly tasteless stew, but it was hot and filling and that was what was important to Gawel.

Sara was very thankful when the food came. Even though she had eaten her normal meals, she was quite hungry. With her meal, she was served another glass of the blood red wine, and she sipped it every few bites. "So do you sober more quickly than ordinary people?"

She continued to keep her eyes on the men, but now that she appeared to be actually with the witcher, they hadn't looked in her direction at all. She felt a small thrill of pleasure at that. Or maybe it was at the thought of her and Gawel together? She scoffed. Of course it wasn't that. He was simply a nice man, she knew they existed, had even met one or two. He was merely letting her tag along, albeit a little unwillingly.

She continued to pick at her food, taking small bites here and there. It was good food, to Sara's great surprise, but with the meager rations she allowed herself, her stomach had adjusting to having little food at one time, and the heaping plate before her was daunting at best.

"So do you sober more quickly than ordinary people?"

"Seems that way," Gawel said, taking another drink of the rather bad beer as he ate the much better tasting food. He watched Sara carefully as she ate and drank, wondering if the food would help prevent her from getting drunk. He then dismissed the idea since she had never gotten drunk before and had already finished one glass that was meant to last the night. This was going to work out expensive for him, but he supposed that didn't matter; what she had paid him would more than cover it and if the notice about the koshchey were true. And that was something he would have to investigate tonight too.

When their meals had been finished, he pulled out a cloth mat and spread it on the table between them. On it was two styalized dragons and twelve circles, six a side. From the same pouch he took out two sets of dice, handing one to Sara. "Dice poker," he said, naming the game. "Like card poker but without the faces and the deception. Let's play a few rounds," he said.

For a while they played, Gawel talking Sara through the rules until he felt she had the hang of the game. Glancing around the room, he spotted a woman dressed much like the waitress sitting by a table watching them intently. He waved her over, knowing her for a professional gambler, though likely not a very good one to be stuck in a backwater such as here. "I'll leave you two girls to play a while. I want to find out more about this notice," he said before standing and moving over to the bar tender to do just that.

Sara watched curiously as Gawel explained the rules of the dice game. She was beginning to feel like a very sheltered child; she had never gambled, and never had more than that one sip of alcohol, and never even seen the big cities. The rules of the game seemed pretty straight forward, and she took to it quicker than she thought she would. When Gawel motioned over another very scantily clad woman, Sara felt a pang of jealousy, which surprised her. She was even more surprised when he stood up, dismissing himself.

"I'll leave you two girls to play a while. I want to find out more about this notice,"

Sara was just about to protest when she remembered what he said when he agreed to let her tag along. He couldn't protect her and watch his back at the same time. She shut her mouth and managed a small, if vaguely unfriendly, wince-like smile at the woman who took Gawel's seat. Turning back to the board, she tossed her dice carelessly, retreating into her walls of stoic-ness. While she was thrilled to see the dice land with three matching 5's, she merely waited, her teal eyes hard, for her new opponent to roll her dice.

Hoping that nothing ill came of leaving Sara to have a little fun gambling, Gawel approached the bartender and pulled out the notice, slapping it down on the bench before him. The bartender looked down at it, looked at Gawel then away and said, "What about it?"

"I need information. Who posted this message, when does the beast attack and from where, and has anyone tried to take it down before me?" Gawel said, all business.

The bartender looked Gawel over once more. "You don't look like you can handle it."

An eyebrow rose. "I'm a witcher."

The bartender shrugged. "So? Another claiming just that came by. He went off to fight it. Never came back. Didn't even find his body. Probably ran, the coward."

"I'm not him."

"Prove it."

"How?"

The bartender nodded his head over to a corner of the room where the sound of a fight and betting came from. "Beat our best there, without your blades or fancy magic or dark tricks. Then I might reconsider. The last one refused. Afraid of a bloody nose likely."

Gawel sighed and rose a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why did everyone always insist he prove himself to them? "Sure, whatever," he said. He turned back towards the table Sara was at, unbuckling his swords and slipping the long dagger out of it's sheath on his thigh. "Look after these, would you?" he said to Sara. "Seems another bozo wants me to prove I can take on more than a few drunks. This won't take long," he said, walking over to the crowd of burly, drunken men.

Sara moved the weaponry closer to her, one arm leaning protectively across them. She nodded, and watched as Gawel moved over to the band of drunkards seated near the fire place. There was no use in her doing anything, so she returned to her gambling. She had already won a fair bit of money, and was quite pleased with how annoyed the promiscuous woman was getting.

She would have told Gawel 'good luck' or something, but he probably would say that he wouldn't need it. It was just a bunch of drunks after all, and if Gawel had to best them in drinking, well... Sara was around to help drag him up to a room where he could sleep the worst of it off.

Contrary to what Sara thought, it was not a drinking contest that he was to beat them in. In a number of ill-repute taverns fist fighting was practically a tournament where one could fight for money. It was brutal and only usually the stupid or the desperate did so but if that's what it took to prove he was a man then so be it.

He started with the wimpiest fighters, barely making ten orens from them. As he beat one opponent after another a few stepped back, refusing to fight him, while others stepped forwards, determined to prove themselves against him. And they also went down with contemptuous ease. Eventually there was only one fighter left willing to fight him, a big bear of a man, though Gawel had a feeling that most of his size was alcohol fat rather than actual muscle. Thus far he wasn't even showing off how fast he could actually move and even with this one he had only to move a little faster than he had been to avoid the blows. He was down in under a minute as well.

Collecting his winnings he was absently rubbing his knuckles as he approached the table once more. He flashed a smile to Sara as he replaced his weapons. "Thanks," he said. "Maybe now we'll get somewhere. At least it's a little quieter."

He went back to the bartender who was now more than willing to tell him what he needed to know. After finding out what he could he went back to the table to find the gambler having left already. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. "Out-gamble her already, did you?" He laughed. "Remind me not to challenge you to a game in the future."

He sat down and lent on the table. "Turns out the koshchey only comes out with the new moon when it's so dark you can't see it coming. The villiages all bar their doors and dim their lights to try to discourage it coming to their homes to eat. New moon is tomorrow night so I have time to prepare and apparently there's an abandoned house up the lane I can use." He was telling her all this because he wasn't sure what she planned on doing; he had never actually had anyone else to consider but himself before. And the koshchey was far more dangerous than anything found in the swamps.

Sara watched his progress in the fight, barely keeping tabs on the dice game before her. Watching Gawel's movements was fascinating, and she could hardly take her eyes off of him. He moved quick, and he made even the most difficult dodges look effortless. Generally, Sara would not have condoned such senseless fighting, but in this case, it was an excuse for her to stare at him without his objections.

While Sara looked on, her dice opponent watched her. "You in love with the witcher, aye?" The woman asked, startling Sara out of her trance. Her voice held a bit of a cockney accent but it was smooth and soft anyway, although it still gave away her poor station in life.

As her words sunk in, Sara turned her cold demeanor back to the woman across from her and the game. Two sixes. "Of course not." Her cheeks showed a slight bit of color as Sara picked up the other three dice and rolled them again. A two, five and one. Drats.

"You payin' that bloke alotta looks. 'sides, ain't you come inta town together?" The woman picked up three dice and rolled, giving her final set enough to beat Sara's. The first round she had lost in a while.

Sara picked her dice back up and laid down a couple of coins as the woman took her pot to her side of the table. "We did come together, but we are not together, together." She schooled her features, careful not to give away anything at all, but still trying to watch Gawel's progress from the corner of her eye.

Despite Sara's denials, the woman didn't seemed convinced. "So then you just bed buddies, aye?"

Sara's teal eyes grew wide as her head snapped back to face the woman straight on. "Excuse me? What?"

"Bed buddies. You know, if'n either oneya get a little hankerin' for some love... Ain't you never 'eard of it?" The woman seemed openly curious now, and Sara knew that this woman was bound and determined to humiliate her.

"No we are not that!" Sara's eyes were wide, and her mouth dry. Just the mere thought of having sex with Gawel... it made her heart pound, feeling like it was going to burst straight through her ribs. The woman began to laugh, rather too loud for Sara's liking, as she noticed Sara's cheeks lighting up like bonfires.

"You 'ave to be joshin' me!" No other time in her life did Sara wish to be swallowed up into the Earth like this moment. Suddenly, the woman stopped laughing and looked dead straight into Sara's eyes. "Are you a bloomin' virgin?" She asked the question with such seriousness, Sara thought for a moment that it felt like she was being asked if she had some dangerous disease.

"No!" Sara lied, her cheeks nearly bursting into flame.

One raised eyebrow from the woman was all that was needed.

"Yes." She admitted, her tone deflated as she lowered her head in defeat.

"Well it's nothin' to be 'shamed of." The dice game forgotten, the woman leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment, Gawel walked over, giving Sara one of his glimmering smiles.

"Thanks, maybe now we'll get somewhere. At least it's a little quieter."

He left again, and Sara kept her eyes focused stubbornly on the board game, willing her cheeks to cool before he came back to the table.

"Out-gamble her already, did you? Remind me not to challenge you to a game in the future."

"That she did. Well, I shall leave you two alone..." The woman said as she stood from Gawel's chair. Sara refused to watch her as she sauntered off, unashamed by the leery looks and comments she got as she passed the drunks.

"Turns out the koshchey only comes out with the new moon when it's so dark you can't see it coming. The villiages all bar their doors and dim their lights to try to discourage it coming to their homes to eat. New moon is tomorrow night so I have time to prepare and apparently there's an abandoned house up the lane I can use."

"That makes sense. So, when do we leave?"

"That makes sense. So, when do we leave?"

"Wait we?" Gawel repeated. He shook his head. "I don't think so. You are staying here where it is safe. Or relatively so. There's an unerground stone cellar where you should be as safe as anywhere. And I wont have to be watching you as well as myself. The Koshchey is no walk in the park, I'll have to actually use some potions and oils for this one and I don't need you getting in the way," he said. He also didn't want her to see him after he had taken the potions he needed to. To say he looked like death warmed over was an understantement. Most people, those who didn't run at first sight of him in the first place, definately did after seeing such a vissage, usually with shouts of monster or demon. He wanted to keep her from seeing that for as long as possible.

"I'll beat this thing, get paid, I'll come get you and we can continue. If I'm seriously injured I'll even let you heal me up but not until it's down. If I'm killed I don't want to be responsible for your death as well. You can always move on come morning and go back to your normal life or whatever you wish."

"No way. I'm not some pathetic damsel who needs protecting. If this thing is as dangerous as you say it is, I'm not going to let you fight it alone. If you don't want to worry about me, then don't. The least I can do is shoot blasts of light at it." Sara wasn't going to back down on this, sort of like wearing her dress into the swamp, but, a lot more dangerous. She locked eyes with Gawel, hoping her stubbornness was evident in her eyes as much as it was in her voice.

Sara refused to even contemplate the possibility of him getting hurt, or worse, dying from this monster battle. It sent shivers down her spine, and for some inexplicable reason, made tears prick her eyes at the thought. "Oh, by the way," she said, trying to divert the conversation while she was still winning it, "I won some money playing with that, um, lady." She pulled out two handfuls of coins from her cloak pockets. "I think luck is on my side lately." Sara met Gawel's eyes again and gave a half smile, something that she was doing an awful lot of lately.

"I'm not saying you're a damsel that needs protecting," that was exactly what he was saying, "but the fact remains that if you're there with me my attention will be diverted between you and the beast. Here you can help protect the villagers. I'm told it takes at least three people every time often before anyone is aware of it. Sometimes as many as eight. I need you to prevent that from happening because if it does eat them it will become even stronger and harder to kill. Trust me," he said. And he was just as stubborn as she was.

"I won some money playing with that, um, lady. I think luck is on my side lately."

Gawel gave a single nod. "You can make real money off it in the cities if you are any good. Of course, if people find out you're a sorceress they will refuse to play you or accuse you of cheating if you win. It's bad enough with witchers at times."

"Why do I need to protect the villagers? You said they lock themselves in their homes, so there shouldn't be anyone out on the streets needing protection. Plus, if you are fighting it, it won't have a chance to grab anybody." She couldn't help but feeling a little smug, her argument was sound, and she knew it. "If you are so worried about your attention being diverted, ignore me. I'm still going to help you."

Moving back to the safer subject, her brows furrowed. "Why would they care if you are a witcher? It's not like either one of us can control luck."

"Provided I find it before it finds someone. And have you ever actually seen a Koshchey? I have," though only once, and he wasn't the one doing the fighting, but he wasn't about to admit that, "They are huge. About as tall as these squat huts. Barring doors and windows doesn't stop it. But if you're determined to be killed then fine, whatever," he said, annoyed.

"Why would they care if you are a witcher? It's not like either one of us can control luck."

Gawel sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a habit he had when he was frustrated and trying not to show it (which, of course, led to him showing it quite clearly). "The same reason you will not be trusted. Magic. Black magic, more specifically, as far as they are concerned. They know the witchers use signs, though they aren't familiar with their use, and assume that the rest of our abilities come from magic as well. So of course we cheat using magic." It was all bollocks of course, witcher signs couldn't be used in that manner, if they could there would be no witchers, merely professional gamblers.

Glad she had won, Sara let him have his annoyance, she would be of use, and when he saw that... Sara couldn't help but have a little thrill of elation. He might actually respect her, at least a tiny smidgion.

As he explained about normal people and their general reactions to people with magical abilities, her face went downcast. "So my family... what they did... that's a normal reaction?" Her thin black eyebrows moved closer together in a worried frown, her pink lips scrunching slightly as her eyes faded, the victorious light dimming from them. She shuddered to think that what had happened to her, also happened to other children, taken from their families when they are still too young to understand why, mutilated in order to try and hide their mixed blood. "And these are the same people you save, time and again, from being eaten, burned, drowned, or otherwise destroyed?" After a momentary pause, a small nervous giggle came from her. "I sound, am, awfully ignorant, aren't I?"

"So my family... what they did... that's a normal reaction?"

Gawel gave a one shouldered shrug at that, a little uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone. "I don't have a very high opinion of people in general, regardless of race. Each is as bad as the next. There are some gems in the rock, true, but they seem to be spaced few and far between so as to be nearly imperceptible. But then, I've only been out in the world for four years, wintering each year in Kaer Morhen. That's hardly enough time to see all that humanity has to offer. So while I would say yes, that would be completely normal and an expected reaction, I'm not really the best person to ask. You should travel to a city, Vizima or somewhere, and ask the half-elves there if they had similar experiences."

"And these are the same people you save, time and again, from being eaten, burned, drowned, or otherwise destroyed?"

"Monsters don't pay," Gawel said simply. He didn't elaborate, but there was more to it than that, of course. He had his own morals that he attempted to live up to. Many people saw him as nothing more than a mindless, emotionless mutant. Most of the time Gawel didn't bother to try and correct them. Apparently that was how witchers were meant to be, why the mutation process had been started in the first place: to make those capable of killing menaces on society without feelings of fear or guilt or greed or envy, or any of other emotions getting in the way of this task. Thus far they had been unsuccessful, to a certain extent. Their memories were destroyed during the process, so they had no ties to family to betray them. And many witchers had a strong sense of apathy. Gawel was unusual in that he retained many of his strong human emotions. Regardless of this he followed the witcher's code and strove to avoid politics and choosing sides in any confrontation regardless of the money paid. It was hard sometimes, since he did often feel one side was being predjudiced more than the other, but he was beginning to learn that what appeared unjustified condemnation, often swung the other way too, just one side was better at hiding their flaws than the other. Easier just to say that he fought monsters solely for pay though, than to try and explain all this.

Standing, he said, "I'm going out. There's no need for you to accompany me. I'm only going hunting for alchemical substances found in monsters only appearing at night. Nothing dangerous for you to fuss over. Why don't you get some rest. Tomorrow I'll be busy preparing. If you wish to do something you can try and find out who is behind this koshchey. They don't appear they are summoned and I would like to know who is behind it and why; this is a small, backwater town not even marked on most maps but it must have something someone wants." That said, he left the tavern, heading out into the wilderness once more, on the hunt.

Feeling a little cast off, Sara watched his retreating back and hoped that he wouldn't get into any trouble. Well, no more so than he could handle anyway. She sat pondering her thoughts for a while, taking enough time to order another glass of that wine. She paid her bill, but hardly noticed as change was given back to her.

"So yer fella goin' off to fight that koshchey, then?" The barkeep asked her.

"No, not tonight. Off hunting other creatures for now." She decided it may be wiser to not correct everyone on assuming she and Gawel were together. Not only was the thought pleasing to her, but it also seemed to keep most of the leary gazes of men at bay. The silence stretched on for a moment, and an idea began to form. Maybe she could make herself useful after all.

She leaned an arm on the table, setting her chest on it, adding to her already generous bust. When she saw that the men around her had noticed, she slapped a puppy face on, and twirled a finger around the worn smooth surface of the old pitted bar. "I don't suppose any of you fine gentlemen have seen anything, or anyone, acting strange? Or perhaps a hermit or odd newcomer?" She directed her large teal eyes at the barkeep, who flushed and tugged at his collar.

"Well, ma'am, I can't says that I have. But we do have a hermit living up out on the skirts of town..."

She jutted her lip out a bit, playing up her drama. She had always loved watching actors, now she got to be one. "Oh, so nothing strange? So disappointing..."

"Well we 'ad that one feller come inta town 'bout the time that koshchey thing showed up." One of the men four seats down from her said, eager to try and please the pretty lady.

Sara's eyes lit up as she swiveled to face the guy who had spoken. "What's his name?"

"I don't think you should be sniffin' around that one, Miss. He's right ornery, that one." The barkeep put in, and Sara assumed her best pouty face. "But I suppose if you brought that man of yours along, you'd be alright..."

"Oh I wouldn't dream of doing anything without my beloved... uh... man." Sara swallowed hard and forced away the want to say husband. "So, the names of the hermit and this ornery gentleman?"

"Clyde is the ol' hermit, fairly nice, but has a real temper." Another man spoke up, starling Sara with how close to her he was.

"And that other feller is Rolmond... somethin' or other."

Sara glued a bright cheery smile on, and gave each man shining thanks, to which they all blushed, and as she excused herself, she could feel every set of eyes on her. Going up to her allotted room, she bolted the door as soon as she had it shut, and did the same with the windows. It was too creepy how easily mens tongues wagged when confronted with a pretty face, and even creepier that she had enjoyed the attention. Sara had never thought of herself as pretty, and even tonight couldn't convince her she was. It just solidified that men were all after one thing from women...

Her bubble popped. Gawel couldn't be like that, could he? She shook her head as she flopped her boots next to the bed and began undressing. Not possible. Gawel was a witcher, and had never shown even the slightest interest in her as a woman. She sighed. How unfortunate that the one man she wouldn't mind attention from, didn't find her attractive.

Gawel stalked through the wilderness surrounding the town, more lost in thought than actually hunting. Once more he questioned his decision to have Sara along with him. A witcher works alone. A witcher always works alone. It's how it has always been and always will be. No one liked witchers, they saw them as an unwanted necesity. And yet along came this sorceress, who was unlike any sorceress Gawel had met, or rather how he pictured them since he had never actually met any sorceresses. But he had been warned to stay away from them by other witchers; mostly because the majority of sorceresses were employed by royalty or those in a position in power and witchers were supposed to remain neutral, to stay out of all that. And along came Sara.

Gawel sighed and tried to tell himself that it wasn't her attraction that made him give in and allow her to come along. And then again on a dangerous mission such as the koshchey.

"What's the point of mulling, I'll either be told it's fine or to get rid of her when I return to Kaer Morhen," he muttered to himself. And yet, as he charged a basilisk, he couldn't help but feel as though, were he told to get rid of her, he wouldn't be able to do so. He enjoyed her company, her conversation, a different perspective on things.

*

It was late that Gawel returned to the tavern and most of the patrons had either returned home or passed out on the benches. The tavern keeper, a different one from earlier but no doubt briefed on this guest, looked him up and down and said, "There's a room been prepared for you upstairs, witcher. I'll have some water sent for a bath as well."

Gawel nodded in thanks and went upstairs to the room he had been assigned. The water, when it came was hot and fresh and Gawel sank into it, absently rubbing at the raised scar tissue on his leg, attempting to ease some of the ache out of it. It wasn't nearly as sore as it had been in the snow but using it today had caused it to ache a little. He wondered how he would go in winter in Kaer Morhen. No doubt Sara would love it there, up in the mountains with all that snow, but it was sure to be a rather painful few months for Gawel until the passes cleared.

That night he slept soundly and come morning he set to work extracting the poisons and fluids from the creature parts he had taken with him, mixing them with other alchemical substances and making the potions he would need for tonight. He would get breakfast later, after he had finished. For now it was all business.

Sara awoke, stretching out her muscles slowly. She eased the kinks out of her neck, and wished she had brought along her own blankets and pillow on the journey. She dressed, checking over her clothing for any holes or places being worn thin. She was able to preserve her clothing for a good deal of time, but once the fabric started thinning, there was little she could do magically to salvage it. Finding no pressing needs in her wardrobe, she made her way over to Gawel's room. It was right across from hers, and while she didn't know for sure it was his, she definitely felt his energy through the doorway. By his breathing, he was awake, and she hoped, dressed. She'd have no will power, or control of herself, if he wasn't.

Sara knocked, then opened the door. "I have two leads into who may be summoning the koshchey, Gawel." She said plainly, by way of greeting.

((firefox is awesome, it remembered my post even after restarting the computer))

As it was Gawel wasn't completely naked, but he was shirtless. He heard the steps of someone approaching and paused in his work, listening, but going back to it when he recognised Sara's footstep.

"Come in," he called after the knock, but it seemed he didn't need to since she entered before he had finished anyway. That could have been interesting, he thought. He would have to remind her not to do tat. Not only in case he were naked or something, but also if he were surprised by it and didn't know who it was, that could end badly for Sara.

"I have two leads into who may be summoning the koshchey, Gawel."

"Oh?" he asked, a little skeptical but willing to listen regardless. "And what might they be? Of course," he continued. "We probably won't have time to look into them properly until after winter or else the passes will be closed and we won't reach Kaer Morhen in time."

Standing, he took his shirt from the back of the chair and unhurridly put it on. He figured it would prorbably be better for Sara anyway. He moved between her and the potions he was working on, however, so she couldn't see; witchers, Gawel included, were very secretive about such things and it just came naturally to him.

She caught the tone of his voice, and balled her hands on her hips. "You aren't the only one capable of loosening the tongues of men. And I didn't even have to get drunk." She wouldn't tell him about the fact that when she got up from her stool, the world had swayed under her, and about her urge to retch and lay in bed all day.

"Anyway. There is a hermit who lives on the outskirts of town. They said he's ornery, has a bad tempter, and doesn't like people. The other man, is probably a sorcerer, by the way they described him, but I can't pinpoint him through my magic, he's hiding his. They didn't say much about him, other than he's new and he arrived close to the time the koshchey started appearing." She folded her arms across herself, trying to stay mad enough at him to not remember his naked chest...

Gawel's eyebrow rose when Sara became particularly defensive about her managing to get some information. Yes, he was surprised and part of that was that Sara was successful but most of it was because of the locals rater than her ability. And he also disbelieved that she had done it without drunk; he knew she had been a little more than happy last night. Though it was amusing that she wasn't hung over this morning. Perhaps she was one of the lucky ones who didn't suffer from such aflictions, or perhaps she had simply sobred up after Gawel had left.

"Anyway. There is a hermit who lives on the outskirts of town. They said he's ornery, has a bad tempter, and doesn't like people. The other man, is probably a sorcerer, by the way they described him, but I can't pinpoint him through my magic, he's hiding his. They didn't say much about him, other than he's new and he arrived close to the time the koshchey started appearing."

Gawel nodded. "It will likely be the sorcerer," he said. "It requires powerful magic to summon one, though I'm sure you know that already with your studies. Hermits are usually just those who don't like people. I don't like people," he said with a laugh.

"We'll see how the fight goes tonight. Whoever summons it may show themselves. If not it may have to wait until after the winter. I will seek Vesimir's advice on it," he said.

"Why fight the thing now, then leave without taking care of the person who created it? Even if you manage to kill this koshchey, won't another one be created to take it's place?" Sara had a great deal of knowledge of her own magic, and the basic knowledge of other magics in the world, but she had avoided dark arts like the plague. Not only was it warned to her that it could take her very soul, she just couldn't bring herself to do any sort of evil to anyone. For goodness sakes, she couldn't even kill spiders, and she utterly detested those!

"Why fight the thing now, then leave without taking care of the person who created it? Even if you manage to kill this koshchey, won't another one be created to take it's place?"

"It's not my problem. More than that there's no money being offered for it. No money means no food," Gawel said. Then he sighed figuring Sara would want more than that. "Look, the fact of the fact of the matter is we don't have the time to investigate it further. Kaer Morhen is up in the mountains, winter comes sooner there. If we don't leave soon then the passes will be closed and it will be a slim winter. Whoever summoned it will likely still be when the snow melts. Koshcheys take time and effort to summon a lot of resources that will take time to gather. We can return then." He paused, then said, "Alternatively, I can leave after I've been paid an you can remain to chace it down. The choice is yours," he finished. He leant back against the chair to await her reply. He hoped that she would put her stubbornness to rest over this as, despite himself he enjoyed her company. But he also had business in Kaer Morhen that could not wait till next year.