[ Ciri doesn't respond. But, for his answers, she is merciful; the bandit's death is swift, putting him out of his misery with a single swipe of her blade, a quick change of angle and pressure that drives the point upward, beneath the soft of his jaw and into his brain. He crumples when she kicks him off her sword.
Behind her, Jaskier chokes, and Ciri whirls around to crouch beside him instantly. The bloody sword is held aside, her other hand on the back of his shoulder, steadying. Down the hill, the other bandits are fleeing, and while she might have chased them on her own, the realization settles suddenly that Jaskier needs her. She'd run ahead once, left him behind. Nearly lost him. ]
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Behind her, Jaskier chokes, and Ciri whirls around to crouch beside him instantly. The bloody sword is held aside, her other hand on the back of his shoulder, steadying. Down the hill, the other bandits are fleeing, and while she might have chased them on her own, the realization settles suddenly that Jaskier needs her. She'd run ahead once, left him behind. Nearly lost him. ]
It's okay. You're all right. Where does it hurt?
[ She soothes, scanning his body for injuries. ]