( That howl hits his ears and something about it makes discomfort crawl up his back. It prickles at his spine, makes the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.
Seems a little stupid to be worrying about wolves right now when there are monsters ahead of them. He walls it up, and they continue on.
And so they're going. He nods wordlessly, and swings himself back into the driver's seat. The engine turns over, but the radio makes no sound. No music, no static, no tape. Just the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
It's faster than walking, but it still isn't a road made for cars. He can't put the pedal to the metal here, not when any sharp dip or fallen log could screw them over entirely. Not when the path veers sharply one way or another.
Although, he does slam the gas once in a while. Specifically, when something humanoid bursts from the tree line into the path before them, mouth wide, teeth fanged, eyes wild, hissing at them. Where most people might pump the brakes, he goes faster, slamming into the body and then driving over it with a jostling thunk-thunk. Nary so much as a flicker on his stoic expression in the process.
They don't have time to dick around right now.
Trees pass on the left and the right. Things dart between them, impossible to see but for the shadows. The headlights cast a strange, too-yellow tinge, and it doesn't feel like they're reaching as far ahead as they normally should.
It's getting darker. There's more movement along the side of the road. Something sprints up ahead, darting in their direction just in time to slam into Geralt's door. He doesn't slow down, but a muscle in his jaw flexes and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
Another body pelts them. And another. One of them cracks the glass of a back seat window. They go faster, uncomfortably quick in the claustrophobic woods.
And then abruptly, startlingly, the trees end and they burst out into clear night, wide empty space, and it.
That wasn't where they'd been when they got separated.
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Seems a little stupid to be worrying about wolves right now when there are monsters ahead of them. He walls it up, and they continue on.
And so they're going. He nods wordlessly, and swings himself back into the driver's seat. The engine turns over, but the radio makes no sound. No music, no static, no tape. Just the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
It's faster than walking, but it still isn't a road made for cars. He can't put the pedal to the metal here, not when any sharp dip or fallen log could screw them over entirely. Not when the path veers sharply one way or another.
Although, he does slam the gas once in a while. Specifically, when something humanoid bursts from the tree line into the path before them, mouth wide, teeth fanged, eyes wild, hissing at them. Where most people might pump the brakes, he goes faster, slamming into the body and then driving over it with a jostling thunk-thunk. Nary so much as a flicker on his stoic expression in the process.
They don't have time to dick around right now.
Trees pass on the left and the right. Things dart between them, impossible to see but for the shadows. The headlights cast a strange, too-yellow tinge, and it doesn't feel like they're reaching as far ahead as they normally should.
It's getting darker. There's more movement along the side of the road. Something sprints up ahead, darting in their direction just in time to slam into Geralt's door. He doesn't slow down, but a muscle in his jaw flexes and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
Another body pelts them. And another. One of them cracks the glass of a back seat window. They go faster, uncomfortably quick in the claustrophobic woods.
And then abruptly, startlingly, the trees end and they burst out into clear night, wide empty space, and it.
That wasn't where they'd been when they got separated.
But now it is.
Dreams rewrite themselves as they unfold. )