#the ongoing saga of geralt and the unnamed healer

[catierambles]

She looked up from the cookpot over the hearth at the heavy knock on the door, setting aside the stirring spoon and smoothing down her skirts as she went over to it, undoing the latch and pulling it open. The man outside was large, taller than her by several inches, clad in black armor that contrasted greatly with his snow-white hair and piercing golden eyes.

"I'm told you're a healer." He said and she nodded.

"You were told correctly, please come in." She said and stepped aside, noticing his heavy limp and the makeshift bandages wrapped around his thigh, the fabric red with blood, as he walked into the modest hut. "What caused the injury? Anything venomous?"

"Rabid griffin." He said simply.

"You must be the Witcher they hired." She said and he nodded. "Off with the trousers and take a seat so I can look at it." There was some hesitation on his part. "Don't be modest, you don't have anything I haven't seen before. Proportions may vary but the equipment is the same." He perked a small smile at that and undid the wrapping on his thigh, letting it fall to the floor. She did give him some privacy, however, turning her back on him as he undid his trousers, hearing his hiss and grunt in pain as the leather was pulled away from the wound. There was a creak as he sat down on the narrow bed in the center of the room and she turned around again, noticing how he had pulled the blanket over his lap. The trousers in question were pooled at his ankles and she crossed the short distance, kneeling by the bed and pushing up the blanket a little to take a look at the deep gashes in his muscular thigh, feeling his eyes on her. They had stopped bleeding but were still worryingly deep, the muscle jumping within the wounds as she pressed on them lightly in the examination.

"You live alone?" He asked and she nodded with a sound.

"The village may find me useful, but they are wary of my magics." She said, "They leave me alone unless I'm needed. Even isolated as I am, word did reach me about the Witcher that was hired. I'm sure the farmers and their livestock are very grateful that it's been taken care of."

"Their coin is more useful than their gratitude." He said and she snorted.

"I'm sure it is. If they weren't scared to death of you, I'd assume they would thank you regardless." She said.

"You're not scared of me."

"Should I be?"

"Most are."

"You've come to me for treatment, Sir Witcher, and currently have your pants down around your ankles." She looked up at him, "Not very scary." She said that last part with a wink and a smile and she caught the slight upturn of his lips as she looked back at the wound. "Ordinarily, this would require stitches."

"Ordinarily?"

"Yes, well, you'll see." She said taking in a deep breath, hovering her hand over the wounds. Her palm began to glow with a soft luminance, pure white light emanating from her skin, and tendrils snaked forward, reaching into the broken skin and making him gasp. "Does it hurt? It shouldn't."

"Warm." He said simply and watched her carefully as she moved her hand over the wounds slowly, feeling the muscle knit together. The skin fused into an unbroken and unmarred expanse and the glow ceased.

"Good as new." She said, sitting back on her calves and looking up at him with a gentle smile.

"Where did you learn that?" He asked.

"I've always been able to do it." She said with a shrug, getting up off the floor. "It is a skill that I can teach for those who have the aptitude, however."

"How much do I owe you?" He asked.

"Depends on the injury, for yours I would have charged hundred-fifty crowns."

"Would have?"

"Something tells me this won't be the last time we'll see each other. Consider this one free of charge." She said and he nodded, "Now, would you like to stay for supper, or shall you be moving on, Sir Witcher."

"Geralt." He said simply, "What're we having?"