[ It's a bit of a surprise he doesn't keep gloating. But she'll take the silence, using the opportunity to rest and consider her options.
They settle into something of a stalemate, neither speaking, while Ciri does her best to get comfortable throughout the trek and decides to save her energy instead of arguing or fighting back further. She considers telling him that what he has planned won't work, that she can't do it even if she wanted to, but the last thing she needs is for the demon to decide she's no longer worthwhile and off her on the spot. Geralt is on his way; she's certain of that.
But it's a big desert. She could only give him the vaguest idea of where they'd been hours ago. She's going to need more to go on. A distraction. A stalling tactic.
It isn't even contrived; there comes a point where Demon Dean's energy surpasses not just her own, but that of the horse as well. They've been walking through the day in the open desert, which may not be hot as it is in summer, but by now, it's getting close. Ciri can feel the mare's gait slowing and stumbling, the heat rising off her sweating body. She needs water, shade, and rest. They both do.
Ciri's voice is rough when she finally speaks again. It feels like it takes several tries to get enough moisture in her throat to form the words without coughing. ]
no subject
They settle into something of a stalemate, neither speaking, while Ciri does her best to get comfortable throughout the trek and decides to save her energy instead of arguing or fighting back further. She considers telling him that what he has planned won't work, that she can't do it even if she wanted to, but the last thing she needs is for the demon to decide she's no longer worthwhile and off her on the spot. Geralt is on his way; she's certain of that.
But it's a big desert. She could only give him the vaguest idea of where they'd been hours ago. She's going to need more to go on. A distraction. A stalling tactic.
It isn't even contrived; there comes a point where Demon Dean's energy surpasses not just her own, but that of the horse as well. They've been walking through the day in the open desert, which may not be hot as it is in summer, but by now, it's getting close. Ciri can feel the mare's gait slowing and stumbling, the heat rising off her sweating body. She needs water, shade, and rest. They both do.
Ciri's voice is rough when she finally speaks again. It feels like it takes several tries to get enough moisture in her throat to form the words without coughing. ]
You're killing your horse.