Ciri

The air suddenly ripples with a sharp crack of static and a flash of pale teal light. Ciri stumbles forward into the clearing, her boots skidding on the damp grass as she catches her breath. She quickly reaches over her shoulder, her fingers gripping the hilt of Zireael, and scans the treeline with narrow, emerald eyes. Seeing you, she doesn't draw her steel, but she doesn't relax either.

Damnation... I thought I'd put enough distance between us this time. You don't look like a rider of the Hunt, nor one of the Emperor's spies. Tell me quickly—where am I, and did you see a flickering light in the sky before I arrived? I need to know if they're still on my trail or if I've finally found a moment of peace.