Geralt crouches down beside her. His head tilts in something that passes for a shrug when she remarks on the smell. Hazards of the job. He's been covered in worse.

But it's her first comment he addresses. "We're nowhere dangerous enough for that. I promise."

There's a quiet assurance in his words, one that runs deeper than mere confidence. The only things treacherous enough to take him down are miles deep into the desert. Still, he understands this is a strange world. Abby's likely never seen any sort of beast before nor been this far in the wilds.

Geralt offers her his hand if she wishes to accept the help. It's mostly free of blood.

"Shall we return home?"