[ Geralt absorbs that for a minute. Reflects on the possibility that someone's reach in Thorne can extend this far. The likelihood is low. But that leaves few options: something to do with the Singularity, which is as nebulous a theory as anything—they know fuck all about the Singularity—or the strange benefactor who rescued all of them for reasons Geralt still doesn't understand. They know even less about that.

He shifts his weight. ] I tracked him to a tavern, where he was working. Innkeeper said he left something behind. When she went after him, he was already gone. In the space of seconds. I checked. His trail stops cold there, too.

[ Not faded, not obscured. Just gone. He hesitates, before pulling out a folded scarf for Alina to take. What the innkeeper had tried to return. Geralt hasn't got any reason to hold onto it. ]

I don't know what it means yet. [ He isn't saying it outright, because there's no telling for certain. It's clear, nonetheless, that the goal is beginning to alter from Where has Mal gone? to What happened to Mal? ] But I can try to find out. If you'd like.

[ Or he can leave it be, at least where she's concerned. If she doesn't want to know any further, he can respect that. ]