I'm glad I found you too. You will remember me, in time. It's all right. I recently went through something similar, and it's-- well, it leaves you feeling a bit unbalanced, but you'll get it all back. I promise.

[ Ciri has so many questions for her. (How is she faring back in Thorne? Has she managed to leave the dungeons, or is she still wasting away down there? Have they made a terrible mistake, leaving Yennefer behind? Or has she got half the court wrapped around her little finger by this time?) But Yennefer cannot answer them right now, and so she's forced to let them go. Instead, she leans into the relief of simply seeing her again, feeling the weight of her hands within her grasp, knowing she is -- at the very least -- alive.

Someone must have brought Yennefer here, just as Geralt had with her. That means she must at least have contact with others, though it's still unclear whether that is aboveground or down in the cells as before. Perhaps she has allies, or at least people who think they are her allies. It is a good enough consolation for the moment; it'll have to do.

Yennefer is alive, and she is not alone.

Ciri's eyes turn to the wolf, once again observing the crisscross of scars visible here and there beneath its thick, white fur. The eyes that fix on her feel shockingly intelligent, steady and expectant. She sense, of all things, a trust there. A camaraderie. A... familiarity. ]

Will you introduce us?