[ Ciri nods, not bothering to argue since Sam sounds confident. Her eyes are far away, a little wild, jaw visibly tight as she looks between him and Sam, and finally lets out a long breath. If he says he can help Jaskier at his place, Ciri believes him; they just need to get Jaskier somewhere safe. She helps prop the unconscious bard up and brace his listless body while Sam climbs onto the mule behind him to take over.
Once they're situated, she's about to go behind and untie the second mule's lead from the saddlebags-- when Sam stops her with a touch to her shoulder. The moment he says Geralt's name, her eyes widen, and her breath turns to lead in her lungs. Ciri swallows. ]
Right. I--
[ She has to go get Geralt. She wants to. She just... doesn't know what to say. Or where to find him. Before the panic can set in, though, something... a little odd happens. Something seems to slowly loosen in her chest, like the gentle tug of a string being unraveled, unclenching the metaphorical iron bands squeezing her ribs and letting her take a full breath more easily this time.
That's it. Breathe.
The voice in the back of her head already sounds a little like Geralt, or maybe Vesemir. She's on the pendulum, blindfolded, unsure where to step. But she can do this. Don't trip. Don't panic. Don't fall. Don't hesitate. Be in control.
Her shoulders loosen beneath Sam's fingers. Ciri nods again, with a bit more confidence. ]
Red. [ The hawk. Right. She hadn't really been paying it attention until Sam showed up, but now Ciri realizes the bird is vaguely familiar. It occurs to her, belatedly, that the bird found them and that was why Sam followed. How he'd known exactly where to go. ]
I know which direction Geralt went, but he's a few days' ride out already. I'll need a better horse.
[ She pulls away from Sam's touch and reaches over to untie her coin purse and knife from the belt being used as a makeshift sling-- and then to untie the mule, which should be better rested for not having a rider. She should be able to get back to the city fast, switch to a decent horse, and hope to catch up to Geralt in a few hours. If they're lucky. If not... she might just end up riding through the night. ]
We'll meet you back at your place. Soon.
[ And then she's on the mule, and with a final, regretful glance at Jaskier, Ciri mercilessly pushes the animal to run faster than it's ever been used to. The city's not far now. And riding -- riding, she's good at. ]
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Once they're situated, she's about to go behind and untie the second mule's lead from the saddlebags-- when Sam stops her with a touch to her shoulder. The moment he says Geralt's name, her eyes widen, and her breath turns to lead in her lungs. Ciri swallows. ]
Right. I--
[ She has to go get Geralt. She wants to. She just... doesn't know what to say. Or where to find him. Before the panic can set in, though, something... a little odd happens. Something seems to slowly loosen in her chest, like the gentle tug of a string being unraveled, unclenching the metaphorical iron bands squeezing her ribs and letting her take a full breath more easily this time.
That's it. Breathe.
The voice in the back of her head already sounds a little like Geralt, or maybe Vesemir. She's on the pendulum, blindfolded, unsure where to step. But she can do this. Don't trip. Don't panic. Don't fall. Don't hesitate. Be in control.
Her shoulders loosen beneath Sam's fingers. Ciri nods again, with a bit more confidence. ]
Red. [ The hawk. Right. She hadn't really been paying it attention until Sam showed up, but now Ciri realizes the bird is vaguely familiar. It occurs to her, belatedly, that the bird found them and that was why Sam followed. How he'd known exactly where to go. ]
I know which direction Geralt went, but he's a few days' ride out already. I'll need a better horse.
[ She pulls away from Sam's touch and reaches over to untie her coin purse and knife from the belt being used as a makeshift sling-- and then to untie the mule, which should be better rested for not having a rider. She should be able to get back to the city fast, switch to a decent horse, and hope to catch up to Geralt in a few hours. If they're lucky. If not... she might just end up riding through the night. ]
We'll meet you back at your place. Soon.
[ And then she's on the mule, and with a final, regretful glance at Jaskier, Ciri mercilessly pushes the animal to run faster than it's ever been used to. The city's not far now. And riding -- riding, she's good at. ]