[As far as he was concerned, that pigeon was more than a wayward threat. Will keeps an eye on the basket the bird is now trapped in, and chose to just, trust Geralt. And the fact that the pigeon was not from the pack of Stymphalian Birds who had attacked him three times and kept regenerating to make his life miserable.]

That's never stopped them before. I suppose just one is safe enough though.

[Will shook his head, getting his bearings. He'd thought he'd been wandering aimlessly, but maybe he ended up at Geralt's for a reason after all. He paused for a moment, collecting himself. This was something he'd had trouble confiding in people. And push had finally come to shove. Didn't he owe it to them now to come clean? Even if this wasn't his fault? The sixteen year old plopped next to Geralt.]

When people first started getting sick, I thought it was because of me.