Unfortunately, Geralt's answer is a mere shrug. His tracking abilities are a combination of experience, training, and his heightened senses, and he truthfully cannot put it well into words. He's navigated the world as a Witcher for over a century. He doesn't actually know what it's like to be a human.

He takes Roach's reins and turns he around.

"I'll catch you," he replies.

John need not worry. It won't be as comfortable as having his own horse, but it'll do. They aren't too far from the city. Its gates loom in the distance as they draw near. It must be a stark contrast to Thorne. Geralt recalls the feeling. He'd grown up in thick forests and rushing streams and cold winters. Then this place. The desert. Not as barren as Korath—there are small oases, bushes and short trees, patches of blooming flowers when it rains in the spring or autumn—but nonetheless a marked change.

"You're fortunate we moved to a larger house."

The last one had a single room and Geralt slept on the floor.