The Divine Hunter - Chapter 176

Chapter 176: Night at the Forest

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Roy went up and walked side by side with the dryad, and he was still holding Ciri in his arms. She might have had war paint made out of peach juice on her face, but Roy could see that the dryad was still young. Maybe around sixteen years old. Or at least that’s the age she looks like.

‘Braenn

Gender: Female

Age: Thirty-five years old

Status: Dryad, Brokilon citizen

HP: 100

Strength: 6

Dexterity: 10

Constitution: 10

Perception: 10

Will: 6

Charisma: 7

Spirit: 6

Skills:

Bow Mastery (Level 5)

Elegance of the Wind (Passive)

Child of the Woods (Passive): Dryads are one of the forest’s many protectors. They are blessed by nature. The forest showers them with blessings as thanks for their protection. While dryads are within a forest, their stamina, mana, and recovery speed are doubled.’

I knew it. Dryads and elves share a similar bloodline. “Vado xisa nakuen (What is your name)?” Roy asked.

The dryad looked at him in surprise. She couldn’t believe Roy was so fluent in Elder Speech, and she bit her lip in hesitation. “Braenn,” she answered.

“Very well, then. How much longer will this journey take, Miss Braenn?”

“Lost… trap… beasts… a day and a half… at least.”

Roy looked at the girl who was sleeping soundly in his arms, and he nodded. Going to the dryads’ capital was a part of his plan anyway. He wanted to meet Eithné, the queen of dryads. She was more famous than Francesca herself, after all. And he wanted to see the Waters of Oblivion.

A while later, he noticed that the sweat coming from Braenn smelled just like a human girl’s, but pure-blooded dryads’ sweat would smell like crushed willow sticks. That’s what the Almanac of Creatures recorded. That means Braenn isn’t a pureblood. She was turned because she drank the Waters of Oblivion. “What was your old name?”

Braenn suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her chest heaved as she tried her best to hold her panting in, then she pursed her lips. “I do not remember.” She turned her head away, but Roy noticed the panic in her eyes before she did.

“Looks like her past as a human wasn’t all too happy.”

***

“Not bad, kid. I had to spend a lot of time trying to find out what her name was. But fair advice, don’t try to court her,” the White Wolf advised as he patted his shoulder. “Never flirt with a dryad, unless you want to stay in Brokilon for your whole life and let them drain you dry.”

Roy had heard of that. Dryads were all females. If they wanted to procreate, they would have to either abduct a human or elf male they liked or turn a young human girl into a dryad.

“You forgot something.” Roy rolled his eyes. “We’re sterile. We’re useless to them. Even Frexinet is useful here.”

Geralt sighed, He was reminded of a sad past. Even though he couldn’t show his sadness, his eyes were filled with melancholy.

***

The journey went by in silence, and they were making swift progress. Braenn knew the map of the forest like the back of her hand. She led them across hidden paths, over patches of grass, bushes, streams, and even swamps. She hopped through them like an agile deer running in a prairie.

Geralt, Roy, and Ciri followed her, though the girl was still asleep. Thanks to Serrit’s classes, Roy noticed at least a hundred cleverly placed traps along the way. There were pits filled with sharp wooden stakes covered with leaves, contraptions that would trigger a volley of arrows, logs that would fall out of nowhere, and a spherical structure filled with spikes. It was tied to a rope and would swing down when the target expected it least. One round was enough to kill anyone or anything in its way.

There were dryads standing sentry everywhere as well. Braenn would suddenly come to a halt from time to time and blow a beautiful whistle, then the same whistle would come as a reply from a nearby tree.

She would also stop at some places and hold an arrow nervously. She would stare at the bushes around them, but she would stop the witchers from killing any animals. Dryads would never kill any animals unless they needed to feed or defend themselves. They were a lot friendlier to animals compared to humans.

***

Even though they were already making swift progress, they still couldn’t get there by sunset, and they had to make camp.

Witchers were experienced in living in the wilds, but a local like Braenn would work better than they could in the forest. She picked a high ground where the breeze would blow through as their campsite. After they had a simple dinner of fruits and jerkies, they slept on a heap of dry fern with barely any distance between them.

That was a custom of the dryads. They would sleep on the same bed and warm one another up. Geralt took the far left spot, and Roy slept beside him, while Ciri and Braenn took up the spots on the right.

Braenn closed her eyes and hugged Ciri tightly, obviously taking her as a source of warmth. Roy looked at Geralt, but the veteran witcher smelled like rotten food. There is no way I am hugging this guy. Roy nudged away from Geralt and wondered if he should treat Geralt to some liquor. I have some dwarven liquor in my inventory. I’ll get close to him, and once he’s drunk, we’ll play some Gwent, and I’ll win all his money. Once he gets in debt with me, I’ll ask him where Kaer Morhen is, and I can find out about their trial potion’s recipe too.

But before he could do anything, he heard someone on the right stirring. Someone’s waking up. Ciri. Ciri finally woke up after sleeping for so long, but she didn’t wake up because she had ample rest. She was just suffocating from Braenn’s hug, and the lack of oxygen woke her up.

The girl freed her head from the dryad’s arms, but Braenn was still hugging the girl tightly. Ciri’s face was red, and when she looked up, she saw a face filled with war paint. Under the silvery moonlight, the paint on Braenn’s face made her look like a terrifying barbarian who lived in a jungle.

The asphyxiation and shock petrified Ciri for a long moment. I am sorry? Who is this? Where am I?

Roy turned Ciri around and put his finger to his lips. Ciri finally snapped out of it, and she stammered, “Wh-What is th-this?” She crawled over to Roy and tried to hide behind him, but then she was met with a pair of golden eyes.

And she screamed.

The silent forest under the moonlight was disturbed by Ciri’s screams. Wolves started howling, and weird voices were heard throughout the forest. They came from the mysterious entities that were hiding in the darkest depths of the ancient forest.

Roy quickly cast Axii to dispel the girl’s fear, and Ciri finally stopped shouting.

How bizarre. Ciri could feel all her fear melting away in the presence of a special power, and it calmed her down. It was then she realized that the beastly eyes and weird face belonged to two different people. “Roy, who are they?”

Geralt stared at Ciri and tried to crack a joke, “You have a loud voice, girl. Almost made me deaf. You’ll have a bright career in the northern opera scene. But first things first, opera star. Shouldn’t you introduce yourself before you demand someone’s name?”

“Who are you?” Ciri stomped her foot and looked at the strange people around her carefully. Eventually, realization struck her. “A white-haired witcher. I know you! You’re Geralt! Roy s—”

“Oh, she’s just a cheeky girl who ran away from home.” Roy pinched her cheeks and gave her a look.

Ciri understood what he was saying instantly. Alright. I’m keeping it a secret.

“A girl? A princess, more like.” Geralt tried his best to smile, but it was an ugly one, and his face froze for a moment. “You do know that there are other people out there who are looking for you, right?”

Ciri snorted scornfully and nudged closer to Roy.

“Don’t worry. We’ll send you home.”

“I just got out. I don’t want to go home!” Ciri glared at the witcher, and sparks flew between them.

Roy said nothing. Instead, he watched the event unfold with interest. He never expected the ‘father and child’ who were destined to meet through the Law of Surprise to get into an argument the very first time they met.

Interesting. So Geralt is a softie. He’s just concerned about Ciri. He doesn’t have to be so stubborn about it.

Since Roy was keeping quiet, Geralt pressured, “Child, isn’t that centipede lesson enough for you? You cannot survive in this forest. Where else can you go but Verden?”

“I can go with Roy. He’ll keep me safe!”

“You aren’t going anywhere, girl,” Braenn said quietly, and her voice surprised Ciri.

“Oh, so you’re a lady. Fine, I’ll let the earlier action slide, even though you did almost kill me.”

Braenn ignored her complaints. She said seriously, “You are so frail, yet you managed to run for so long. And you even evaded all the sentries, swamps, forests, and traps on your way. You are strong, healthy, and brave. You are useful to us.”

“See?” Ciri said haughty. “Even this lady doesn’t want me to go back!”

Ciri did not realize what Braenn was talking about.

“Very well then, child. At least tell me your name.”

“Ciri!”

“Hello, Ciri. I am Geralt of the Wolf School,” Geralt introduced himself seriously.

“Don’t come near me, weird white-haired man! Just stay there! I wanna sleep with Roy!” Ciri mumbled in annoyance, and she turned to Roy. “I’m hungry, Roy. Get me something to eat! And tell me a bedtime story! You have no idea how dull the days are without you around!”

“What kind of stories do you want to hear this time?” Roy whipped out a bunch of dried fruits and smoked meat from his bag.

“Certainly not Rapunzel. You scared me back then. Coria had nightmares for two days straight. I want something interesting tonight.” Ciri lay down beside Roy and wolfed her food down. She wouldn’t have eaten anything like this in the past, but she was already starving.

“Very well, then. I shall tell you the tale of Jack and the Beanstalk.” Roy looked up at the dark sky. “Once upon a time, there was a boy in Toussaint who bought five magical beans with his cow.”

Braenn licked her lips and squinted at Roy. She was also interested in the new and magical stories Roy was telling.

Eventually, a peaceful silence returned to the campsite, and not a soul made a sound, save for the young man who was telling a story.