Sara tried to keep her best serious face on, even though she was dying to just laugh outright at Jarek's reply. When he pinned her with a very roguish, but almost unbearably charming, smile, her pent-up laughter bubbled out. "You certainly have proved yourself on both counts, Jarek. I must admit, I don't really know about ever lustful men." She felt her cheeks heating, but hoped that Jarek would chalk it up to the fire's heat and laughing so hard. "I was very sheltered growing up, and even while training I met very few people, and maybe only three or four boys, and they were younger by a couple of years. When I was living at the cottage Gawel found me at, I was a healer, and the men there wanting absolutely nothing to do with me."

Sara smiled regretfully, then moved her hand through her hair, and when she looked back at Jarek, she said, "I will be sure to relay your message, and I might even add in that witchers up here are extremely ugly." Before she even finished talking, she was laughing, unable to say that particular lie.

((It's back!))

Gawel went to his own room after he left Vesimir, though it was only his own room for now. There were three beds in it, against three of the four walls. Gawel's bed was under the window, which he rather enjoyed. The other beds would fill if more witchers came to stay. Otherwise he would have the place to himself as he had last year. He hoped that would be the case; he liked the novelty of having his own room. He used the privacy to change into a simple shirt and soft leather breachers, though, in nothing but his shirt, he sat down on the bed and pulled out the jar of ointment Vesimir had given him. Opening it he studied it again, gave a sniff and once more grimaced at the strong smell. Not particularly bad smell but hardly pleasant either. Using two fingers he scooped some out and frowned. He could feel the heat in it that Vesimir had hinted out but it hardly burned like he had expected. Rubbing it into the scar though caused him to gasp as much in surprise as pain. While on the healthy skin it felt little more than warm on the scar tissue it burned like fire. Gritting his teeth, Gawel stubbornly continued rubbing the ointment in up and down the wound. It didn't rub in entirely so he used a light bandage to wrap around it to stop it spreading on the inside of his pants as he pulled them on over the top. It was uncomfortable but the intense burning sensation was fading now to a dull heat. He washed his hands, ran damp fingers through his hair and slung his swords over his back once more. Finally he tossed the ointment inside the pack that was resting on his bed and stood.

Knock knock

Gawel looked up in surprise. "Come in," he said, half expecting it to be Sara after asking her way here. Instead a young boy, about twelve, and dressed in training leathers opened the door. "Iwan," Gawel said in greeting, a smile crossing his face.

The boy stood a little hesitantly at the door before running foward and practically throwing himself at Gawel. Gawel laughed as he caught him, though he had to take a few steps back. "You've grown," he commented. Though of course he had, it had been a year since he last saw the boy and he had yet to undergo the trials. "What's all this?" he asked when Iwan didn't let him go. Gawel moved his hands to the boy's shoulders and forcibly moved him away enough so he could look at him, though he kept his hands on his shoulders.

"Randen's been saying things since he got here, that he saw you die and things. I didn't want to believe it but you were late coming through so I was starting to think..." The boy trailed off though it was clear what he thought.

"Ah. No I haven't been killed. Don't believe everything you hear about me, especially from Randen. You should have asked Jarek. Aren't you supposed to be training?"

Now that his fears had been laid to rest, Iwan looked rather coyly at the ground. "We're supposed to be running the Killer... I mean the trail, but I heard that you had come back so I had to check."

Gawel chuckled and said, "Come on then. I'll go run it with you. I could do with the exercise."

Leaving the bedroom though he instead went upstairs to Sara's room.

*

"You certainly have proved yourself on both counts, Jarek. I must admit, I don't really know about ever lustful men."

"Oh I'm sure I could teach you," Jarek replied slyly.

"I was very sheltered growing up, and even while training I met very few people, and maybe only three or four boys, and they were younger by a couple of years. When I was living at the cottage Gawel found me at, I was a healer, and the men there wanting absolutely nothing to do with me."

"Sounds very similar to us," Jarek said. "After all, we're brought here very young, twelve is the oldest we accept children, and after the trials we don't remember anything except Kaer Morhen and the people there. Normally we are forbidden to leave as well, though some always run. At least until we're older."

"I will be sure to relay your message, and I might even add in that witchers up here are extremely ugly."

Jarek laughed at that. Taking on an injured look, again using his best puppy dog eyes, he said, "I'm hurt, do you not think me beautiful?"

*

"More like a peacock than beautiful, strutting around with that feathered cap and those bright colours," Gawel called from the doorway, hearing the last part of the conversation. Iwan, eyes wide, peaked around from behind Gawel staring at the woman in the room.

"Hey, I happen to like my cap! Just because you have to walk around wearing the same boring, shapeless clothes doesn't mean we all have to," Jarek countered.

"Practicality, Jarek. A very useful thing to have," Gawel replied, but before Jarek could come back with a witty reply he rested a hand across Iwan's shoulders and brought him forward. The boy's head was just about at Gawel's shoulder now. "Sara, this is Iwan. Iwan, this is Sara, a close friend of mine who will be wintering here with us. We're going to go run the Killer before Iwan gets in trouble for skipping so I'll see you tonight probably. I'm sure Jarek will be more than willing to look after you and show you around," Gawel said before waving good bye and leaving again, the boy following.

*

"I wondered how long it would take the boy to seek him out," Jarek said after they had gone. "That, my dear, is what's known as a child surprise, or more specifically, Gawel's child. It's practically unheard of for someone as young as us to be bringing children back here but that was another time we got into trouble for something we really deserved," Jarek said.

He shifted and stretched his feet out towards the flames, letting the warmth of them warm his chilled toes as he wiggled said toes in his boots. "No doubt that's another story you'd like to hear?" he asked with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

((YAY!!!))

Sara stifled giggles as Jarek and Gawel teased each other back and forth. It was so nice to have friends to laugh with, it was a rare treasure that Sara hadn't had the privilege to have, until now. When Gawel introduced the boy, Iwan, Sara stood and smiled warmly. Her hair was now completely out of it's pins and fell in very loose, very thick, waves down her back and across one shoulder. The poor boy looked like his eyes were going to pop right out of his noggin. She transferred her twinkling teal eyes from Iwan to Gawel. "Just be careful, and don't go getting the boy into more trouble. I've been hearing lots of stories about you." She couldn't help that her voice was dripping with coy teasing. After the duo exited, she sat back down when Jarek spoke again.

"No doubt that's another story you'd like to hear?"

"Oh absolutely!" She tossed her hair back out of her face and rested her chin on the palm of her hand, while her arm was supported on her crossed legs. "Anything you are willing to tell me about yourself and Gawel is just wonderful." Sara said, trying for her best dream-like trance voice as she stared enraptured at Jarek.

Gawel and Iwan emerged into the rather cold training yard and Gawel started off at a run towards the trees.

"Um... Gawel? You're going the wrong way. Didn't you run this in training?" Iwan said as he ran after him.

Gawel looked over his shoulder and gave the boy a wink and said, "I know a short cut. Don't tell Vesimir or he'll make it impossible though. And don't use it too often or your teachers will be able to tell and you'll get in trouble. Then I'll get in trouble."

Iwan said nothing but simply grinned in response and followed. They ran through the trees and scrub and in some ways the path Gawel led them through was harder than the normal path but they reached it soon enough. Gawel held a hand out though to stop them from simply joining the path.

"What are we waiting for?" Iwan asked.

"Shh," Gawel said as he moved closer to the shade of a tree, pulling Iwan close to him. In a whisper, he continued, "We join now and they'll wonder how we got ahead without them noticing."

Sure enough around the bend came the group of boys that Iwan trained with, all around the same age. They waited until they rounded another bend before they moved out and continued running with them. The trail, or the Killer as it was not-so-secretly called by the students, was a path that went along the circumference of the castle. Gawel had run it more times than he could count, and probably several hundred more than that before his mutation and he knew it like the back of his hand. Better really. He could now run it fairly fast as well but he kept pace with Iwan, perhaps a little faster to push the boy to make up for his tardiness in coming here. While it went around the castle it actually weaved back and forth, round and round, making use of every natural barrier available that the aspiring witchers had to be able to navigate with ease so that it took at least three times longer for a seasoned witcher to run it than it would if it were a simple circle. He and Sara had passed along the tamest part of it as they entered as part of the mountain pass but they were already past that point.

As the two of them caught up a couple of other apprentices looked up to them, smiled a little hesitantly at Gawel and kept going.

"So tell me," Gawel said as they ran, not even a hitch in his voice to show that he was running, still easily breathing normally, "how is your training going? What have I missed this past year?"

*

"Oh absolutely! Anything you are willing to tell me about yourself and Gawel is just wonderful."

Jarek smiled, though he hesitated a little. Not many people knew this part of Gawel's past; Jarek knew because he was Gawel's best friend, and Vesimir knew of course, the man had no secrets from him. But as far as Jarek knew, Gawel hadn't told anyone else. He wasn't sure if he should be the one to tell her. Maybe vaguely then, from Jarek's own point of view even though Gawel had since filled him in on the details.

"It was when we were fourteen. Again," he added smiling. "The sorceress who had been wintering with us had left to go back home, or wherever it was she was from. And we thought it strange. Surely a sorceress who could freeze a couple of teenagers still to await punishment would be able to use a portal to go home instead of riding on a horse. So we waited until nightfall and followed her," he said. He paused then, remembering.

"It's as much forbidden for us to leave until we've earned both our swords as it is for strangers to visit us. I had had a particularly tough time of it the last week. Even after we had been allowed down from the blocks for our spying they worked us both until, come nightfall, all we had the energy for was to drop into bed, and sleep never seemed like enough before we were roused before the others to start over again. And, well, look at me now. I'm not exactly of the typical witcher build. I was even smaller as a kid. Gawel had always put on muscle easier than me and even though it was rough on him as well he seemed to be taking it in his stride a lot better. I wanted to run. Now that we were out, and we had long since lost sight of the sorceress - I think she used a portal after all - I had a taste of freedom, of being able to do what I wanted, when I wanted and no trouble or beatings awaiting if I didn't." He smiled ruefully. "Of course I had no idea that the real world had it's own troubles. But Gawel wasn't interested in leaving anyway, he wanted to turn back. We fought, he was far more hot headed then than he is now, he's mellowed in his old age," Jarek added with a laugh, "and I stormed off. Of course I was barely gone a day before one of our teachers found me, though he hadn't found Gawel yet and apparently he hadn't come back like I thought he would."

Jarek paused, thinking how best to tell what had come next, without saying so much that it would upset his friend; Sara may not have noticed that, but Jarek had caught the flash of annoyance that Gawel let slip through hearing that they had been talking about him and, more specifically, telling stories about him. "I wasn't there when it happened," he admitted. "And I think Gawel should be the one to tell you the details. But when the witcher who found us found him, his left arm was broken and there was blood on his sword. And he said he needed to come back here in ten years. After that life went on as normal and the first place Gawel goes after we get our medallions is to that same farmstead and he takes me with him. And the same man we met all those years ago is there with a young boy. The mother, apparently, died in child-birth and the father, knowing that was what Gawel had asked for, raised the boy as best he good, teaching him what he knew of hunting and tracking. You've heard of a child surprise? Or a destined child?" Jarek asked. He looked up then at Sara's face and, seeing no confusion there nodded. "Gawel would have told you of that tradition I suppose, probably to reassure you that we aren't stolen from our beds at night, that this life isn't forced upon us. Even though then, none of us knew what lay ahead of course. Otherwise there probably wouldn't be any witchers. Iwan was what was promised to Gawel. Ever since then Gawel's come back every winter and Iwan has become like a son or a younger brother to him. But he's yet to undergo the mutation so... who knows..." Jarek trailed off as he stared into the fire. He knew that the boy was to undergo them this winter, he was judged ready by all his trainers. But he had been forbidden from saying anything. Vesimir was to be the one to tell Gawel, and Iwan in turn. He just hoped that the boy survived. If not... well perhaps it was a good thing that Sara was here, and that was why Vesimir had agreed to her presence so readily, in which case Jarek would back away, let Gawel seek the comfort he would need.

Sara listened intently, and nodded slowly in unwilling acknowledgement when Jarek pointed out that Gawel should be the one to tell her things about his past. She had told him a great deal about herself, but she was slowly coming to realize that she knew almost nothing about him. "I feel like that myself sometimes. Like a child surprise." She clarified.

"I guess I owe you a little story of myself, since you have been so kind in telling me so many of you and Gawel." She worried her lip a little, then began, trying to keep her voice even and nonchalant, like the past didn't hurt anymore.

"I wasn't a child surprise, not in the sense that Iwan is. But, as I'm sure you've already noticed..." She pulled her hair back and revealed a scarred pointed ear for a moment, then carefully draping the hair back over to hide it again. "I'm a half-elf. My mother and father had an affair and were married in secret, but my mothers uncle forced them to divorce. That of course, was before she knew she was with child. Her family made up some story of violence and dark alleyways as my conception story when it became known that she was pregnant." Sara took a deep breath, her eyes growing distant as she stared into the fire. "When I was born, my grandmother was the first to notice my ears." A hand slowly moved up to touch the ear she had revealed to Jarek, "She cut them. Rounded them to make them look normal." Sara blinked and the spell was broken, she heaved a sigh then turned her attention back on Jarek and reapplied her air of nonchalance. "I was given away before I was five, and trained to be what I am today." She forced a quirked smile onto her face, though she figured her eyes still betrayed her sadness.

"What about you? How did you come here?"

Jarek nodded slowly when she pointed out her ears. He had noticed them, of course, there was little that he missed despite the way he appeared. He just chose not to make anything of them. Many of the non-human races had made themselves out to be martyrs and it was not a personality trait he liked or respected. Everyone was born as they were and the sooner they became happy with that the happier people around them would be with them. At least that was how he looked at it. People often hated witchers on sight, and not just humans. But Jarek didn't care. Even if he had tried to run away once, he was proud of who he was and what he had accomplished. Not many people managed to become witchers, to have their skills, their abilities, and none that he knew of his wiry stature. He didn't care if that made him no longer human, he left that to the philosophers.

He listened to her story, nodding as she said it. He had seen the scars as well and had guessed something like that would be the reason behind it. "So long as you don't go joining the Scoia'tael I don't really care what you are," Jarek said frankly. He didn't like the Scoia'tael, thought they stirred up more trouble than was needed in their 'freedom fighting'. Things weren't perfect but they never were. Humans were the only short-lived race, they would die out eventually, all the non-human races had to do was wait.

"What about you? How did you come here?"

Jarek shrugged. "No idea," he replied. "I don't remember anything before the mutation. No witcher does. At least none that I know of. Gawel remembered more than most so they tried a couple new concoctions on him but stopped when his hair started turning white. Or that's the story anyway. He was mutated before I was so I don't remember that either. Only what he's told me, and he only remembered what he got in nightmares and what Vesimir told him. Which wasn't much. It's a good thing really, means we have no ties or connections to biological family. We can remain truly neutral, or that's the theory anyway. Loyal to no one but ourselves and other witchers. And not even to other witchers sometimes. Still, I wonder sometimes..." he said, staring into the flames. "I wonder if I actually saw my family, if I would instinctively know them. After the mutation not everything is gone. There is some recollection. I remembered Gawel, and Vesimir, and other witchers I had met. I don't know how it worked but I remembered most things from my time at Kaer Morhen. Just nothing before it."

Jarek was silent for a little while then said, "Dinner will be soon. I should probably leave you to get ready. If you leave your room, head down the stairs and take the first left, my room is the second door on the right. I'll show you the way to the dining hall." Of course that also made sure Sara didn't wander off on her own.

Jarek stood and went to the door, though he paused while he was there and looked over his shoulder, "Though if I know Gawel, and I think after all this time I do, if you look out your window you may just get a good look at him sometime soon."

*

Gawel ran easily with Iwan, and the boy surprised him with how much faster and fitter he had become. Jogging, he was able to maintain a conversation, only having to pause every now and then to focus on his breathing again, get the rhythm right, before continuing. His diet had changed this year, he said. There were new herbs in his food that made it taste far from pleasant and had made him violently ill to begin with. He remembered little of that but remembered vomiting blood. He got better though and after that when new herbs were introduced he took to them easier and easier. Gawel knew, deep down inside, that this meant he was nearly ready to undergo the mutation but for now at least he refused to think of it.

After they finished the run the sun had nearly completely set and the land was cast in an almost purple twilight. It was truly beautiful to Gawel, and would be more so from the top tower windows where more sun was visible, casting colours of light and shade off the snowy mountains. The instructor that was waiting for them rose an eyebrow seeing Gawel with the boys but gave no further sign of caring.

"Go wash in the stream then come in for dinner," the instructor said and Gawel was more than happy to join the boys, despite the fact he had barely raised a sweat. They all ran down to the stream where they stripped naked and plunged in to the freezing water. Gawel, a little apprehensive about the cold, nonetheless took his own clothes off, folding them neatly to the side on a rock so they wouldn't get wet. He glanced down at his bandage, sighed and unwound that too. He had hoped to keep it a secret but he knew if he didn't was with the boys he wouldn't hear the end of it until he told them why so everyone would find out eventually.

There was a collective gasp as the scarring was seen was seen and Gawel grimaced.

Iwan, the unofficial spokesperson when it game to Gawel asked, "How did you get that?"

"A kikimore," Gawel said. "Take it as a lesson of what can happen when you try to take off more than you can handle," he said before ignoring them all, running and diving into the water. It was so cold the shock of it knocked the air out of his lungs and he came up gasping and laughing at the same time. He had forgotten how damn freezing this water was! His leg completely seized up with it but he ignored it and did his best to keep his face neutral.

"Are you just going to stand there gossiping like a bunch of girls or are you coming in?" he called to them, sending a splash their way. "The water is lovely-y-y-y!" Well that really didn't work when his chattering teeth carried the word but it had the desired effect anyway and the boys leaped in to join him a water fight soon underway.

*

From the upper story window, if Sara looked carefully enough she would have been able to see Gawel get undressed, though the distance was such that she wouldn't have been able to make out details. The stream was hidden by the bushes but no doubt she would be able to watch for when Gawel got out.

Sara nodded, but was sad to see Jarek leave. She had really enjoyed his company, and was beginning to think that she would have enjoyed travelling with him, had he been the one to answer her request instead of Gawel. She sighed, put away fantasies, and moved to the window. She didn't have any other change of clothing with her, so this would have to do. She peeled off her tunic, and sat down at the window to watch the sunset. The air was cool, but still warm enough so she didn't require a blanket. The once brilliant blue sky was streaked with shimmering purple, while pink and gold clouds dotted it like little silvery wisps. She sighed, breathing in the fresh mountain air and beginning her stitching.

As the silence settled over the room, save for the crackling of the fire, she began to think on Jarek's comment. Get a good look at Gawel? Was she truly so obvious in her growing affection for him? Sara worried her lip again, biting it hard enough to leave teeth marks in the soft rosy flesh. She certainly hoped not. The only course of action Gawel would take would be to leave her behind if he knew. At the same time, some part of her knew that she was only prolonging the heartbreak that she was sure would come when he decided that she was just too much of a risk, or whatever rumors cropped up from her wintering with him here.

She pricked her finger on the needle, a crimson droplet welling up. A muffled curse escaped her lips before she stuck the pricked finger into her mouth. She stared out the window again, resting her stitching on the floor for now, content to look out over the grounds. Her ears picked up the sound of splashing, so she looked down at the source. Somewhere beyond the bushes and trees there must be a stream. She continued to watch, thinking she would see the boys playing in the water, cooling themselves after a long, and no doubt difficult, day of training. She forgot her finger was still resting in her teeth when she saw Gawel emerge from the bushes, his long hair dripping and the droplets running down his chest, his hips...

Sara shot up out of the chair when she realized that she had just seen, had been STARING, at Gawel. She moved away from the window so quickly that she tripped over the chair, tipping it over and crashing to the polished floor. Her cheeks had never felt hotter, and probably were as crimson as the blood that had been on her ivory skin a moment before. Sara's eyes were wide with shock as she righted herself on the floor. She didn't think she was capable of standing quite yet.

'Oh my goddess... did I just...? did I really see...? Oh my goddess...'

A good look indeed. A very good look.

After playing in the river for a while with the boys until they were blue and shivering and all of them grinning like children. Once out though he couldn't hide the limp he was stuck with, his leg having seized up near completely. Iwan came up beside him and said quietly so the other boys wouldn't hear, "Gawel? Are you alright?"

Gawel smiled and ruffled the boys wet hair as he bent to pick up his clothes. "I'm fine," he said. "The cold makes it stiff, that's all. Vesimir gave me a creame to help with it which I can use before dinner."

Iwan nodded, accepting that and hurried to catch up with his friends. Gawel took his time. He didn't bother with the bandage now, the water had washed any residue of the ointment off, so he just used his shirt to dry himself and pulled on his pants, walking (or limping, though he did his best to minimize it) back to the keep. The smell of food wafted to him and his stomach grumbled. Ah to have decent fare again. Not that witchers dined in banquets every night, the food was plain normally but well cooked most of the time, and there was always enough for everyone. After all, a hungry witcher isn't very good at fighting, and an apprentice who isn't fed enough is that much more likely not to survive the training. They had to be careful through winter of course, and towards the end of the winter months the repetition in food became frustrating but that hardly mattered.

Back in his room, Gawel reapplied the ointment, hissing as it burned, re-wrapped the bandage around it and found a fresh shirt. He ran a comb through his hair and figured that would have to do before he left to meet Jarek and Sara to go down to dinner.

*

Jarek, meanwhile, was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to Sara's room for her to come down. Typical women taking forever.

Sara hurriedly finished sewing the sleeve onto her tunic, then slipped it over her head after tying a knot and cutting off the excess thread. She pulled her hair back into a loose plait at the back of her neck, tossing it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

She could feel her cheeks still burning and she hoped that it would fade by the time she made it to Jarek's room. Sara tried, rather unsuccessfully to put his image out of her mind, but when she was trying to think of anything other than that, it seemed impossible. 'I sure hope Jarek will be distraction enough at dinner...'

She suddenly came to a frozen halt, her hand on the handle. The metal was cool on her fingers, and her cheeks no longer burned, her cheeks drained of all color. She was going to be having dinner with him! And the other witchers! Taking a shaky breath, Sara calmed her thudding heart. All she would have to do was not look at him. Or talk to him. Or... she mumbled a very un-lady-like curse as she swung the solid door open, shutting it behind her and she headed quickly down the stairs. She didn't want to be late, although she would be more than willing to stay and eat up in her room, where she didn't have to look at him...

As she neared the bottom steps, she nearly ran into Jarek. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I thought you would be in your room!" Her hands were shaking badly, so she tried to hide it by smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her tunic. "I'm not late, am I?"

Jarek smiled as he nimbly caught Sara after she crashed into him. "Don't worry, we're not late, and even if we were they would save some for us. People eat at all different times here because of differences in their training schedules. Some even come in really late when those working in the kitchen have finished, they just help themselves."

He led the way down the passage towards the mess hall.

*

Gawel turned a corner and smiled when he saw Sara and Jarek. "I was just looking for you," he said as he fell in to step beside them. "I hope Jarek hasn't been boring you too much with his endless prattle," Gawel said to Sara as they walked.

Turning a couple of corners, descending some stairs only to ascend some more they eventually walked through an archway to a wide hall. There were three long tables here which were clearly separating the witchers into groups. One, the largest, held the boys who had yet to undergo the mutation process. It was noisy and full of chatter barring a few pale faces who were struggling to eat, clearly the ones still adjusting to the herbs mixed in with their dishes. Then there was the middle table of older apprentices, those who had survived the mutation process. If one looked closely at them they would see that each differed a little from the one next to them, on had odd coloured eyes, though all the eyes were intense in colour, another had different hair shades, though nothing so unusual that it stood instantly out. The differences were minor and generally only one who knew what they were looking for would see. They were a little more subdued than the younger apprentices but still just as boisterous at times. Then there was the smallest table, those of the full witchers. None of them wore their swords to the dinner table though each looked equally ready to fight with their bare hands if need be and each wore the wolf head medallion, though some wore it hidden beneath their shirts as Gawel did. It was towards this table that the two witchers led Sara.

Jarek took his seat but Gawel paused, resting a hand on Sara's shoulder to pause her as well. "This is Sara, a sorceress," he said when he had the witcher's attention. "She'll be wintering here with us." Then he sat, leaving a space between himself and Jarek for Sara to sit. Most of the faces of the witchers greeting her were friendly or neutral, not caring that she was there. There were a few, however, who openly scowled at her presence. Mostly centered around the blond Randen and his friends.

The food, when it came, was a simple fare, winter mountain vegetables, roast venison, stew, but it was hearty and pleasant enough. "Mmm, I've missed this," Gawel said as he finished off his second bowl of stew. He considered going for a third but then thought better of it, taking some meat and potatoes as well, conveniently skipping the vegetables.

"I hope Jarek hasn't been boring you too much with his endless prattle,

When Sara saw Gawel round the corner, a full smile on his face, she felt her cheeks flame up as the image of him dripping wet came smashing to the forefront of her mind. All she could manage was a quick shake of the head and a meek smile of her own.

She followed Gawel and Jarek to the table and nearly jumped out of her skin when Gawel put his hand on her shoulder. When he introduced her, she was glad to see that she didn't encounter the same hungry looks she had seen back in the tavern, but was a little disconcerted at the scowls she got from a few of the other men. She sat in between them, glad for the comfort that they gave.

She ate the stew heartily, realizing just how hungry she was, and she was delighted that it was such good stew. Those boys sure could cook! After she finished a bowl, her attention moved to Gawel unbidden, and once again Sara began to feel hot all over. Goddess, when would she stop thinking of him?!

Gawel was a little confused by the way Sara reacted to his question about Jarek. Had the man done something or said something to upset her and she was just too polite to say? He glanced over at him as he ate but Jarek was enjoying conversation with his neighbour, guesturing wildly with his spoon in a way that was completely normal, even like when they were boys. If he had done something then he was oblivious to it. Gawel cast his eyes around the table. There were the usual glares his presence got from Randen and his friends but that was normal and no one else really seemed to mind her presence or seemed to have recognised her. And surely if another had come to visit Jarek would have said something, given him warning.

"Is something the matter girl?" Marek, a witcher sitting opposite them, asked. He was a solid man with serious eyes and black hair pulled into a tight pony tail at the base of his neck. He had a stern face, made all the more so by a rather hideous scar. In fact, all the witchers around them showed signs of their profession, though some, like Jarek, weren't visible.

Regardless of whether Sara answered or not, Gawel spoke up after a moment, giving himself time to swallow. "She's just tired," he said. "We both are. There was a blizzard chasing us most of the way through the pass. Bed is looking mighty good after that, I can tell you."

They seemed to accept this excuse easily and conversation flowed freely and easily. A number of men attempted to draw Sara in to their conversations, asking things like where she comes from, laughing at the stories of witchers (for the most part) and sharing tales of adventures they had been on. They were a rough bunch but mostly friendly. A few snide comments were made from the same end as the glares but if they were ignored the witchers in general seemed to be a welcoming bunch. But maybe they were just happy for the presence of a female.

As the dinner was winding to a close (at least for those who arrived at the start as, like Jarek said, there were still those coming and going), Vesimir cleared his throat to get the attention of those near him. "Now that we have a sizable number of us here, I belive it would be a good time to start some of the mutations. There are three boys I have in mind for the winter, one each month to give those involved a chance to recuperate between them."

Gawel went back to finishing his dinner, having moved on to desert, an apple crumble. The mutations didn't really concern him since he wasn't considered senior enough to help and he wasn't here all year to assist in choosing which boys were ready. Or so he thought, until, after listing two boys and the witchers who would be helping, he said, "Iwan will be the other." The fork that had been half way to his mouth froze and then slowly lowered, Gawel's eyes fixed on his plate even though he didn't see it. "Gawel? You are close with the boy. He will need you there if he's to have any chance to pull through. Are you willing to be there for him?" For a moment, a very selfish moment, he considered saying no. But it was just as quickly and ruthlessly quashed. He nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything. "Good. Because I want to start Iwan tomorrow," Vesimir continued, and there was the second blow. "Don't say anything to any of the boys yet. They need to get proper rest in and knowing about it will prevent them from that."

Gawel nodded again and having lost his appetite now said, "I should get some rest too then. Excuse me," he managed before standing and controlling himself just enough not to run from the room.

Sara did her best to ignore the tasteless comments made towards her, knowing that if anyone got out of line, or she showed any hint of being upset, Gawel would smash their face in. That thought made her smile, and it didn't bother her in the least when he spoke for her, giving the excuse of being overly tired. In some ways, it was most definitely true, but it wasn't the only reason for her less then usual confidant conversation.

As the boys were announced as the canidates for the mutation, Sara nearly dropped her own fork as Iwan's name was called. Her heart immediately out to Gawel. As Vesimir requested that he be the one to help with Iwan's process, Sara wanted to refuse for him, say that it was a stupid and cruel request, but thought better of it. Instead, she placed a hand on Gawel's shoulder, her mind thinking different thoughts other than the ones that had been recently plaguing her.

As he stood and left, Sara turned towards Jarek after watching him leave. "Will he be alright?" She whispered, concern etched into her voice.

((finally after two hours of writing. Hope your happy, this reply took up all my time so that now I don't have the time to reply to the others I was going to before bed lol))

Jarek felt the shock just as Gawel had though, perhaps, not quite so keenly. He had been expecting it after all. Just not so soon and not as soon as tomorrow. Instantly he stood to follow but Vesimir's voice stopped him.

"Let him go," Vesimir said, and Jarek paused. "Give him time to accept it and the possibilities that come with it."

Jarek sat once more, slowly and watched him leave, a concern frown on his face.

"Will he be alright?"

"I don't know..." Jarek replied just as softly, his eyes still on the doorway through which Gawel had left. Then he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and turned back, locking away his worry. "Yes, he will be," he said, a lot more confidently, though just as quietly. "He has to be. For Iwan. And he knows that. There are very few I know with the mental fortitude Gawel posesses. He'll be fine." Somehow though, he wasn't sure if he believed that, or if he was just saying it to convince himself of it.

*

Gawel went back to his room, his mind in turmoil. It was good, of course. Really, it was a good thing that Iwan was ready. It meant he was progressing well with his studies, both mental and physical, his body had taken to the grasses well and there was little more he could learn without the mutations. He, like Gawel and ninety percent of the other witchers here, was a child of destiny, a child surprise. It was his destiny to train as a witcher and, live or die, that would also be his destiny.

But Gawel just couldn't bring himself to believe that. Destiny seemed like a convenient excuse to create witchers. And Gawel didn't buy any of it.

Pacing back and forth in his room he felt like a caged animal so it wasn't long before he grabbed a sword, his silver one and left his bedroom, going out to the training yards. There weren't many people here now that the sun had set. The only light came from torches set in scones against the castle wall and that light only spread so far. Gawel didn't mind though; even without potions his eyes saw well in the dark. He moved to an area surrounded by trees so as to be almost hidden though with the light from the bright nearly full moon overhead he could see clear enough. The area was perhaps fifty meters in diameter, a circular section of packed earth generally used for duels. It wouldn't be used tonight though.

Drawing his sword and tossing the scabbard to the side, Gawel swung a couple of experimental swings, to get his arms moving even as he continued to pace back and forth, almost ferociously. He started with Viroledan Naev'de Feaine Glaeddyv which, loosely translated, meant Nine Sun Swords. It was a style that focused on wide slashing movements which, while it expended a lot of energy for relatively low damaging moves, it was peerless against multiple enemies at once. And right then, Gawel felt as though he were being attacked on all sides, by his memories, or rather what memories he had and muscle memories of his own mutation, by Vesimir, springing it on him tonight without any warning, by his worry for Iwan and whether he was strong enough to pull through and survive, by the need to keep it a secret, by the fear of what the coming days would bring. All of it felt like a separate enemy attacking him on all sides that needed to be felled.

He grew angry then, angry at himself for not allowing himself to see it coming, to prepare for it, angry for leaving every year when, by staying, he could have helped train the boy, angry at the whole system that took such a high death toll just to make one witcher, who then may not even survive the rest of his training. And his style switched flawlessly to Tamerian Devil to suit. This was focused on hard hitting strikes against slower but tougher opponents and it suited Gawel's mood and thoughts perfectly as he struck out with his anger.

He then slipped into Addan Anye, or The Fiery Dancer. It was the style he had struggled with most while he was learning and consequently it was now his best style after spending hours and hours every single day to practice and improve. It was very fast, his sword a blur even without any potions in his system and relied heavily on acrobatics and maneuverability. It was almost like running was to some people; some said they felt as though while they are running they could get ahead of their problems and experience a sense of freedom, if only for a while. This was the style Gawel felt the same way while performing and he needed to feel free, if only for a little while. This was the first time he had practiced such ferocity and his leg ached but he merely added that to the list of things he was fighting off.

Finally, his movements slowed and, following a couple light stretches, finally stopped as he dropped down to his knees, sitting lightly on his feet, sword resting across his thighs while his hands rested on his knees. He was breathing heavily, his body soaked in sweat that made him feel the bite of the winter air against his wet skin, but his eyes were closed and his mind focused inwards. His breathing slowed and became deeper, more even and less ragged. The natural endorphins that were released into his system with oversize helped sooth some of his anger and hurt at the very least, though he still remained worried. Remembering what he had learned about meditation, he let his mind settle where it would and let each scenario it showed him play all the way through without any interference or attempt to stop it from him.

Surprisingly what his mind first focused on was a memory, rather than a fear for the future. Gawel generally remembered little of his mutation, though it was probably more because he didn't allow himself to remember. While meditating, he was vaguely surprised by how much he could remember. He had been strapped spread eagled to a bench, a rolled cloth in his mouth for him to bite down on. His skin was glowing along his veins and he was screaming, screaming at the agony that ripped through his veins. At first he kept wondering what he had done to deserve it, where had he gone wrong, what he was being punished for, but soon he wasn't even capable of such cognitive thought. And then he knew nothing, nothing but the pain, the screaming, the brief respite that was all too brief only to be followed by more pain. There were voices above him but after the first couple of hours he couldn't understand what they were saying. There was a hand on his head though, strong but gentle as well and he had latched on to that touched, used it to keep himself sane and it helped remember if not who he was that at least he was someone. And then, slowly, the pain had eased and he had slept and slept and slept.

And his mind moved on.

Another memory. He was older this time, but it was winter again. He had cut class to steal some food from the kitchen and because of this had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew there were other mutations going on, they were always going on. And he knew that most boys didn't live through them. He had just seen no tangible proof to make that reality hit home. The boys would simply disappear from classes and dinner, some would come back and join the next table. Others simply never reappeared. Everyone knew they were the ones who had died but no one spoke of it; it was taboo. But it wasn't until a chance encounter that had Gawel see two witchers carrying a board between them with a sheet draped over something that it hit home: there was an arm hanging out from under it, the small arm of a child, grey skin with black, red, and sickly green streaks visible under the surface. Another child had died. And Gawel was terrified of the next corpse he sees being that of Iwan, with him being powerless to stop it.

He had to accept it as a possibility though and not fight it, and only when he had did his mind move on once more.

*

After dinner had finished Jarek led Sara back to her room. "I'll check on Gawel before I go to bed," he said. "Might even see if I can swipe something of a sedative to get him to sleep though maybe he won't need it." Though he didn't sound to sure about that.

He tried a smile. "Try and get some sleep," he said. "Don't let this get in the way of things. Gawel will probably leave to get Iwan or something around dawn but if you want to know where his room is, it's right next to mine, third on the right instead of second."

*

Slowly but surely, Gawel's mind was soothed by the meditation and he opened his eyes, only just now realize how cold he had become. He was still sad, still nervous and fearful, but they no longer consumed him. Determination had taken its place. Determination to be there for Iwan to see him through it and to be the pillar of strength he could rely on and, should he not be strong enough to make it through, to be there comforting at the end.

He went re-sheathed his sword and went to the river to wash once more, though it was a rush job with the biting cold water. That done he went back to his room to get what rest he could, though it was already late.

Sara had no appetite left for desert as Gawel departed. Even though Jarek sounded confident, she didn't share it. This news had troubled him, and that troubled her. He had never looked so shaken, and that made Sara wonder just what happened during the mutation process. In her studies, she knew that most of the children that underwent it did not survive, but other than that, there was little information, and none pertaining to the process of it.

She allowed herself to be walked back to her room, but barely remembered how she got there. Jarek's voice cut through the silence and brought her sharply back into reality. Try to get some sleep? All Sara could do was looked worriedly over Jarek's shoulder, and nod. Right. Sleep. "Will you be able to sleep?" She asked, the question genuine. Even if Gawel not admit it, Sara liked to think that he was her friend, and vice versa. Because of that, even though she couldn't understand or empathize with his worries, she knew it would be a very restless night, knowing that Gawel would be just as restless.

She turned into her room and softly shut the door, the latch making what sounded like a booming click as it sunk into place. Leaning her forehead on the door, she closed her eyes, wishing she was able to understand what was going on. There was so much she didn't know, and couldn't know, it was driving her mad. She accepted that her ability to winter here was thin ice, and one wrong word would get her thrown out, and she had accepted that she would not be able to learn anything about the creation of witchers while here. But she couldn't accept that because of those, she couldn't help a friend.

Sara lifted her head and turned towards the bed piled with furs. Scoffing at her own thoughts, she fell into the plush bed. How could she help him? There was nothing she could do about Iwan's upcoming challenge. There was nothing she could do to ease his worry. He was strong, she had seen that for herself. Sitting up slowly, she untied her braid and let her hair fall over her shoulders again. Casting a glance to the box of sewing stuff that was still sitting near the fireplace, she tilted her head in thought. Well, if she wasn't going to sleep, she may as well sew herself a new outfit or two... She stood up and began rummaging through the box of fabric and came across a deep emerald pile of fabric that shimmered brightly in the firelight. Green wasn't her color of choice, but there was something wonderful about it. She laid the fabric on the floor and, with the style in her head, she began to cut out the basic shape. She would make a dress, with a high neckline featuring a cowl-neck, sleeves that ran just past her elbows, and floor length, of course. Not too tight, with plenty of extra fabric in the skirt to make it fuller. It would cut in a little at her waist, but not enough to be risqué and offend Vesimir.

After cutting out the pattern, she began to stitch. It didn't take her long, she cheated. While she stitched a sleeve together, little tendrils of magic sewed the rest of the emerald fabric together, and before an hour had passed, she had a new dress. Changing quickly, for which she didn't understand why, maybe it was that story of peeping teens, she slipped into the new dress and admired it. It was beautiful fabric. When looking full on, it looked like a flat, dark green, but when it moved, thousands of tiny sparkles of brilliant leafy green. It was a dress that reminded her of spring, the opposite of her own favorite season, but it was nice. She did a twirl, and was pleased with the way the dress flowed out, and twisted around her legs. With her pale skin, black hair and vibrant green dress, she looked like a true Elf right out of the forest. Or so she thought anyway. She moved to the window to look up at the stars, and caught a brief flash of Gawel. It was late, and Sara wondered what he was doing out so late, and swimming again. Thankfully, this time, she hadn't seen anything, but she was startled by the little twang of disappointment she felt. Stepping away from the window as if she had been burned, she regarded her thoughts in a semblance of horror. What was the matter with her?!

Hoping to catch Gawel before he went to sleep, she moved to the door and opened it, silently running down the stairs, forgetting that she was still in the new dress. She counted the doors carefully when she reached the hallway Jarek had described, and when she reached the third one, she knocked softly, hoping that Gawel would be awake and willing to spend some time with her.

Gawel, shirtless, having consigned his second shirt of the evening to the wash basket, was putting his sword away when he heard the knock. He figured it was Jarek come to check on him after leaving so abruptly, that man always did worry about him too much. "Come in," he called, his back still to the door. Turning he was surprised when it was Sara who entered - he had temporarily forgotten about her - and further stunned by the beautiful dress she wore. Far more becoming to her, he thought, than the white one she had insisted on wearing in the swamps. In deference to her and the certain blush she wore seeing him bare chested, he pulled another, his third, shirt over his head and frowned at it a little; it was slightly large across the shoulders showing that he had lost some muscle mass while he had been recovering at the temple. Oh well, not like he wouldn't gain it again soon.

He sat on the bed with a sigh, then moved back to rest his back against the wall under the window. "I'm alright," he said, knowing that would be why she had come. He wondered what she might think of his room. It was practically spartan in appearance compared to Sara's and it was clear from the two empty beds that he normally shared it with others. There was very little furniture, a chest at the end of his bed to hold his clothes and belongings, a wicker basket next to that for his laundry. The bed was a plain, single size wood affair with a thick grey blanket, solid but comfortable enough for someone used to sleeping on the ground. There were also two desks that were obviously meant to be shared, one which Gawel was using since it had a wash basin of water on it while the other was empty. Finally there were hooks on the wall where his swords hung, next to the skins of animals he and his room mates had killed as boys, the most impressive being that of a mountain lynx.

"You don't need to worry," he continued. "You won't be required to visit, probably won't even be allowed to."

*

Jarek smiled as he lay in bed, hearing the knock on Gawel's door and guessing who it would be. He had gone to check on Gawel before he went to bed as he said he would but his room had been empty. Some time later he heard Gawel return, shortly followed by who he believed was Sara. "Look after him," he whispered, "if he'll let you."

Sara moved further into the room and tried her best to control the blush that was starting to become a permanent stain on her cheeks. With Gawel at the desk, she moved to the bed that was closest to him and smiled when he said he was alright, even before she had asked.

"I know you are." She sat down on the surprisingly soft mattress. "I thought you might enjoy some company, even mine." She looked at the skins hanging on the walls and suppressed a shiver, she really wasn't a fan of ornamental killings. Sara turned her eyes back to Gawel and reached out, placing her hand softly on top of his. "You can't tell me not to worry about you, Gawel. I care too much for you." Her voice was whispered and gentle. "I assumed I wouldn't be allowed to see him, or you, until Iwan is recuperated from the process. Jarek has promised to keep me company, so don't have any worries there."

Gawel glanced across to Sara when she sat next to him. He moved one leg up and rested his arms on the raised knee, staring straight ahead once more. "Thank you," he said quietly when she said she thought he would enjoy the company. He would, he realized. He didn't fancy laying down to sleep and knew that it would only cause his hidden memories to well up again.

"You can't tell me not to worry about you, Gawel. I care too much for you."

Gawel felt his heart warm at that, but he didn't say anything. Instead his hand crept to the the side until it slipped into Sara's own and rested on the bed between them, a silent acknowledgement and thanks.

"I assumed I wouldn't be allowed to see him, or you, until Iwan is recuperated from the process. Jarek has promised to keep me company, so don't have any worries there."

Gawel nodded at that. "He's a good man, Jarek; I would trust my life with him in an instant, though he would moan and complain about it the entire time," he said with a small smile. "You won't be allowed to watch the actual mutation, normally even witchers as young as I don't either, but after if... if he survives he'll be resting in his own room. Or his new room really. You'll be able to visit then if you really want." Though he didn't know why she would want to. She had only met Iwan once and only briefly when he went to say he was going for the run with him. She certainly had no connection to him. Even Gawel was not supposed to have formed the connection he had, but it had become inevitable. The boy had lived quite a distance away and Gawel had no horse at that point. It was a long journey back to Kaer Morhen, plenty of time to get to know one another and become close. And Gawel had occasionally taken classes during the winter, more opportunity.

Gawel hunched his shoulders and gripped his knee to his chest with his free arm, curling in on himself. He didn't know how he was going to get any sleep tonight, figured he may as well just give up. He might be able to get some rest with meditation but he had no wish to go over the memories and imaginings that were skimming the surface in order to release them to reach that restful state. He still held the same determination to be there for the boy that he had discovered earlier, only here in his room, he allowed a little more of the fear he held to show.

A warm, tingling heat spread up Sara's arm into her chest as their hands connected, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she leaned closer to him and whispered, "When. When Iwan recovers, I will come visit him. If he's important to you, he's important to me."

Having no idea what more to say, she leaned her head on his shoulder, giving him her silent support. Her hair trailed down her back, tickling her bare forearm. She stifled a yawn as the moment stretched out, content to just be there with him, to at least try and help ease some of his tension. Sara didn't know a whole lot about how to comfort someone, but with being at a total loss as to what to say, silence seemed like a good option.

"When. When Iwan recovers, I will come visit him. If he's important to you, he's important to me."

Gawel just shook his head at that. There was not when, there never was. And it would be foolish for him to think that, it would only make it harder if he lost him. Much better to think of the reality of the situation. And that was that the chances of him surviving were slim. Iwan was strong and fit, but the fact that he had had such a negative reaction to the first infusion of herbs, vomiting blood he had said, didn't lend much confidence. But then who knew, perhaps Gawel had reacted that way too, he didn't remember.

"I shouldn't be so upset by this," he said softly, his forehead resting on his arm, his face hidden, though his voice showed his grief as well as confusion over how he felt. "I should be happy. I am happy in a way. It means that he's done well with his studies, that here's nothing more for him to learn as a human. That he's already better than most city guards and mercenaries. No one undergoes the mutations until they are ready, so long as it's before puberty hits. But I don't know of anyone who wasn't ready before then." He wondered vaguely if witchers even had puberty. He didn't know, it wasn't something he thought about or really remembered. "It's no wonder most witchers are stripped of emotions," he said darkly, hating his own emotions at this point.

Briar Rose:

Sara squeezed his hand again. She was realizing how serious the whole thing must be to upset Gawel this much. It wasn't like him to be so obviously negative, at least not in the short time she had been with him. "I believe he will live. Even in the short moment I saw him today he has so much of you in him. Your same courage and energy." Sara leaned her head on Gawel's shoulder resting her eyes as she did so. She took a deep breath inhaling the strong scent of the man beside her. "Is there anything you need?" It read a sincere question and she hoped she phrased it right. Sara knew there was nothing she could really do to ease his worry or to help Iwan but she hoped that just by showing her support might help both his emotional state and his attitude.

Gawel smiled slightly despite himself. "He's not my son," he said. The way she was talking it was as though he were his son and had inherited traits from him. That wasn't the case at all.

"Is there anything you need?"

Gawel shook his head then, softly, so softly Sara might struggle to hear, said, "Only stay here for tonight. Just one night." He needed the company he thought. Her presence helped keep the worst of the fears at bay and even if he didn't share her optimism, it was nice that someone did.

*

Despite themselves, they both fell asleep that night. Gawel woke in much the same position he had fallen asleep, with the two of them leaning against each other, keeping each other upright. Glancing over his shoulder out the window revealed it to be about an hour before dawn. Time to face what was coming then.

Gently, carefully, he moved away from Sasha, lowering her softly to lay on the bed properly, pulling a blanket up around her to keep the chill of the morning at bay before turning away. He used the cold water in the wash basin to wash his face, to help wake him up, dried his face on a towel and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. From there he went down to the boy's dormitory which was really just another wing of the castle with room exactly the same as Gawel's except, perhaps, lacking the skins on the walls.

Iwan was still asleep and Gawel crept over to his bed, kneeling beside it and gently shook the boy awake. He woke instantly almost as though he had been expecting it though he did seem surprised to see Gawel there.

"Gawel? What-" he started but Gawel cut him off by resting the fingers of one hand over his lips, the other motioning on his own mouth for silence. He gestured for him to follow and they both left the room quietly, not waking the other sleeping boys.

Once they were outside and the door closed, Iwan tried again. "Gawel? Where are we going?"

Gawel hesitated in his step, letting Iwan draw up alongside him. "Vesimir has decided you're ready for the mutagens," he said, watching Iwan's face carefully. The boy smiled at first, proud that their teacher considered him ready, then it struck home what that meant and his step faltered, face going pale as his body froze. Gawel, expecting this, turned to face him and rested both hands on his shoulders. "Don't be afraid," he said quietly. "You can't let the fear catch, remember? I'm going to be there the entire time, you will never be alone. Be strong and be brave, alright? You can do this, I know you can. Then you can become a true witcher, in abilities as well as just name."

Iwan nodded, though he still hesitated. "Gawel?" he started, waiting until Gawel nodded his acknowledgment. "What's it like?"

Briefly Gawel considered lying, but he knew that would only hurt Iwan further when it came time to face it. So he said, "The process is hell. You're in for a rough few days. It's excruciatingly painful and both mentally and physically exhausting. After it you'll sleep for days, and you may not remember much before the process. But I'll be there with you the entire time, and if I'm not when you wake you need only to call for me and I will be."

"What about... what about after?"

Gawel gave a small smile then. "After you've rested and you wake up, it's like being reborn again. You wonder how you ever lived in such a frail body, how you could see anything or hear anything with such weak eyes and ears. You feel powerful like you never have before, immortal even, though none of us are immortal. You'll also start learning about the more powerful potions and be able to try them, to see for yourself what it's like to see in pitch darkness as though it were midday and to move with super-human speed. You'll start learning with real swords, not the wooden training ones, and the Killer will become like a morning jog rather than a grueling track." Of course he didn't mention the hatred of the world, the pain many of the potions caused, the careful balance between power and poisoning yourself, the constant fear and threat on your life and not always from monsters. He needed Iwan to feel confident and willing to fight it through.

It seemed to work as Iwan smiled a little, imagining it. He looked out a window where the first streaks of grey were starting to show dawn arriving. His smile faded a little. "I could die though," he said.

It wasn't a question but Gawel answered anyway. "Yes. You could die. But if you die, then it simply means that this life isn't for you. That whatever lies after death is the path you must walk. If you don't want to walk that path yet then you must fight back death with all your strength. Accept the changes you feel happening, welcome them, but don't let them control you. Understand?"

Iwan's eyes flicked to the side to look out the window again, briefly, before moving back to Gawel. He nodded his head. "I understand," he whispered.

"Either way, I'll be there, always. Remember that and latch on to it at the worst, use my strength and we'll pull through this and you can become a true witcher."

Iwan nodded and after a few more moments he squared his shoulders and looked Gawel in the eye. "I'm ready," he said. There was still fear in his eyes, but determination too and it made Gawel's heart soar.

Draping an arm across his shoulders, he said, "I know you are. I'm proud of you," as he led him down to the deepest vaults of Kaer Morhen, to the laboratory where, past the locked doors and magical wards, not a sound from the outside could be heard, nor could the outside world hear what went on within.

*

Jarek woke at dawn and already knew that Gawel would have gone down below with Iwan. He cursed. He had wanted to catch Gawel this morning, to talk to him beforehand but he had overslept. Well there was nothing for it now, not even he would be allowed to go down there. Instead he washed and dressed, the colours a little less flamboyant than yesterday and went first to Gawel's room. He had a feeling Sara wouldn't have left last night and thought she could probably use some company. He wasn't sure how funny or witty he could be today, nervous as he was for Gawel, and for Iwan of course, though he was no where near as close to the boy as Gawel was.

He knocked lightly on the door, not sure when women or sorceresses woke in the morning, not wanting to wake her if she were still asleep but not wanting to go unheard if she were awake. Maybe they could take a picnic out in the grounds, there was a hill that afforded a beautiful view of the valley, maybe that could take both their minds off their worry.

Sara awoke to a light tapping. She stretched out, raising her arms above her head. Then she felt the blankets. They were woolen and warm, but she didn't remember the blankets on her bed feeling this way. Slowly, she opened her eyes, but quickly snapped them open when she caught a glimpse of the dead animal skin on the wall. Gawel's room! They had fallen asleep together... Well, at least, she had fallen asleep on him.

The tapping came again. Who was that? Should she answer the door? Sara tossed the blanket aside, ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her... 'Oh no! I wore this last night??' She groaned mentally as she smoothed the emerald fabric back into a semblance of order, then moved quietly to the door. Using a wisp of magic, she felt the aura of whoever it was outside his door.

Jarek! Sara's mind went into a war. Should she open the door for him? Or would he think that she and Gawel had been together last night? Her breath caught in her chest as she weighed the possibilities. Jarek was a kind man, she was sure that he wasn't going to think anything very bad about her, but then again, this was probably one of the reasons why women weren't allowed to winter at Kaer Morhen! Stealing herself, she grabbed the wrought iron handle of the door and opened it, placing a smile on her face, hoping that she didn't look too flustered.

"Good morning Jarek!"

Gawel led Iwan down semi-familiar corridors encased in stone until he came to a thick wooden door braced with iron. He pushed it open and, surprisingly, it opened silently and easily. Inside the room was fairly menacing in appearance, but perhaps it was simply tainted with Gawel's own memories. There was a lit brazier in the centre of the room and the three walls were taken up with different objects. The wall opposite the door held what looked like a table except it had chains and manacles fastened to it. That would be where Iwan would be spending the next few days. There was a wooden bench and a stool near by too. To the left from there was what looked like an alchemist's dream garden. A three tiered garden holding all manner of herbs and fungi of which Gawel with all his training could only name a few. The area was lit with an almost ethereal glow from the luminescent plants. To the right was a far more menacing table. It had knives and needles and irons that left no doubt for their purpose: pain, or the inflicting of said pain.

Seeing the room Iwan almost turned and fled right then and there, but the comforting hand on his shoulder steadied him. Vesimir was there waiting for them but that was all at the moment. He was at the herb bench but turned hearing them come in. "Ah, you're here. Good. Undress and hop up on the bench, lad and we'll get started."

Gawel felt as though he was probably just as nervous as Iwan was as they both moved to the bench, Iwan laying down on it. Both he and Vesimir set about securing him down, using soft woolen cloths around the boy's wrists and ankles so the metal wouldn't bite and injure him and placed a cloth over his hips for modesty's sake while Vesimir spoke. "There are several stages to the mutation process and it will take a couple of days. Gawel here will be looking after you during that time, making sure you drink and eat and comforting you as much as you'll let him. The first stage is probably the easiest, though it's by no means easy. It will change your lungs and muscles and the basic chemicals in your body to make you stronger and increase your constitution. It's needed for the rest. Following that will be a variety of poisons and diseases to make you immune to them. Finally will come your nervous system, heightening your senses and the like. Are you ready?"

Iwan nodded, but Gawel could tell he only did so because if he didn't he felt he would never be able to. Vesimir nodded and and left to get the mage. After he was gone, Iwan turned his head to Gawel.

"Gawel?" he ask, his voice a shaky whisper. "I'm scared. I feel like I want to run and hide and make it all go away. Does... does that make me a coward?"

Gawel couldn't help but smile at his question as he ran a hand over his head soothingly. "Someone, who I suspect may have been my father since I know it was no one here, someone once told me this. 'Courage is not the absence of fear. But rather the presence of it and the ability to act despite it.' Everything I've learned since seems to confirm that. So no, Iwan, you are not a coward. Far from it."

Iwan smiled slightly and nodded before turning his gaze towards the shadowed roof. Gawel took a rolled cloth and said, "Here, open up and bite on this," and he slipped it in his mouth on top of his tongue to protect his mouth. He watched as the boy's eyes glazed over and his breathing slowed to a deep and easy rhythm, using mediation to calm himself. Gawel smiled, proud of him for that level of control, such that by the time Vesimir and the mage - a withered old man who looked as though he had never seen the light of day and, quite possibly, hadn't - came back he was calm and composed.

*

Jarek had been about to leave when his second knock received no reply, figuring he must have been wrong, or Sara was sound asleep. Hence when the door opened he was half turned away but he turned back and gave a slightly hesitant smile when Sara opened the door. His eyes widened briefly and ran up and down her form, not bothering to hide his appreciation for her beauty. "That's new," he said a little stupidly before smirking at himself - that sounded something like the uneloquant Gawel would say.

"Good morning," he tried again. "I thought perhaps we might have a picnic breakfast to take our minds off things and get out of the dreary keep. There's a hill I know of that's relatively sheltered by the wind and weather. We're a bit late to watch the sunset I'm afraid but the view is fine nonetheless. Gawel will be away most of the day and, knowing him, probably much of the night unless Vesimir sends him away."

She blushed at his brazen stare, but managed a smile when he mumbled something about the dress being new, and sounding completely like Gawel. "I made it last night, since my other clothing was, well, traveled. You don't think it's too nice, do you? I don't want to upset Vesimir..."

At the mention of a picnic, Sara brightened. "That sounds wonderful! I would be thrilled to share the morning with you." She paused before taking a step towards Jarek. "Should I change? Green really isn't my color anyway..." Realizing she was rambling, Sara chastised herself. What was it about these witchers that made her so tongue tied, reducing her to a babbling, giddy school girl? She had to admit that neither Gawel nor Jarek was lacking in the handsome department, and Jarek certainly was a very chivalrous gentleman. Oh if only Adrianna had taught her things like this, ways between men and women, then perhaps she would feel, at least slightly, better.