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Page 340
"No surprise, the weather is getting colder every year, and the speed of cooling is as fast as an avalanche. The elves have foreseen it a long time ago, but who would believe the elves' predictions?"
Continuing to move towards the swamp, he suddenly heard the neighing of a horse.
Pereirat is located in a swampy area, and there are also dry groves, but these groves are surrounded by mud ponds, and it is impossible for horses and riders who are not familiar with the road to enter them.
Just as the old hermit was thinking this way, there was another clear hissing sound from a small forest.
After hesitating for a while, curiosity still overwhelmed vigilance.
He approached the wood slowly, and saw a beautiful black mare with shiny hair, trapped under a tree, its rein caught in a branch, and covered with bright red blood.
It was obviously not the blood of the black mare.
Because, in the shallow ditch behind the mare, he saw a corpse!
The old hermit's first thought was to turn around and run away.
However, he did not do this after all, but put down the bag in his hand and approached the corpse vigilantly.
Although the black mare pricked up her ears, raised her front legs again and again, and stamped the ground, as if she was looking for an opportunity to bite him or kick him.However, the old hermit still came to the corpse.
It was a boy in a leather jacket, tight leather pants, and elf boots.
He just bent down to check the condition of the corpse carefully, when the corpse suddenly let out a burst of sound!
When he turned the wounded boy over carefully, the old hermit couldn't help but gasped when he saw the mask on the boy's face made of dirty mud and dried blood.
After finally brushing away the hair that was tangled with blood and mud, he realized that his first impression was wrong:
"It's a girl?!"
. . .
In the wooden house, under the light of an oil lamp, a silver-haired girl with a bandage on her head and her whole thin body integrated into a fur blanket was sitting on a bed, her green eyes seemed to be devoid of any emotion.
"How long have I been here?"
"Five days."
"I feel much better."
"I'm very relieved to hear you say that. The bandage can be removed now, hold my hand, and I'll help you sit up."
Under the best efforts of the old hermit, the silver-haired girl survived the difficulties and recovered slowly.
However, some injuries are forever engraved on the skin
Untying the bandage on his face, the old hermit looked at the scar that was difficult to look away, and tried to force a smile:
"The wound has scabbed and healed well."
"Do you have a mirror?" the silver-haired girl asked.
"No."
Looking at the expression of the old hermit, the girl with a blank face gently brushed the sutures on the left face with her fingers:
"That is to say, it looks scary?"
"The wound is long and deep and your face is swollen badly. In a few days I will be able to remove the stitches and put on a willow bark plaster"
After saying something that sounded like comfort, the old hermit interrupted:
"I made pigeon soup, would you like some?"
"I want to, but I want to drink it myself. I don't want to be like a cripple and let you feed me."
The girl lifts the wooden spoon slowly and hard to her mouth,
The old hermit just sat aside with great interest, watching quietly.
He knew that after the girl recovered, they would be able to communicate smoothly, and then he would be able to figure out why she mysteriously appeared in the swamp and why she became like this.
However, the flame of curiosity burning in his heart made him a little impatient to wait.
However, it was not him who spoke first.
After finishing the pigeon soup, the girl lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. After a long time, she suddenly said:
"I have to get out of here, as soon as possible. I'm being hunted, you know that, right?"
"I know." The old hermit nodded: "You have already said it in your dream, except for some incomprehensible nonsense, you said a lot. First you asked about your sword and horse, and then you doubted me What is Bonnet’s associate, saying that I’m treating you with false compassion. It took me a lot of effort to let you understand that you misunderstood me. Then you said your name was Falja and you were emotional, gradually calmed down.
The old man in front of her reminded her of when she was in Kaer Morhen, sitting by the fire and listening to the old witcher give her a lecture.
Just as peaceful, just as sleepy
"Need me to send someone a message? Let him know you're here?"
"I'm a disaster star. Anyone who has anything to do with me will die." The girl said mockingly.
"Not all of them!" the old hermit denied emphatically. "Like that Bonnet. You screamed his name in your dreams, and he was the one you were running from, wasn't he? He was the one who hurt you." ?”
"No." The girl pursed her lips, forcing down the fear and sadness in her heart: "The one who hurt my face was "Grey Owl", and his name was Stephen Skellen. As for Bonnet, he gave me The injury is worse than this. I even said this when I had a fever?"
"Relax, you're weak, it's best not to get too excited."
"My name is Ciri."
"Ciri, I've got to get some aconitum so I can rub your wounds."
"Wait! Can you find me a mirror?"
"I said that"
"Please!"
Looking at the girl's firm eyes, the old hermit knew that there was no need to hide it anymore.
"Oh, okay." Ciri looked at the terrible scar on the left side of his face in the mirror, and said weakly, "It's about the same as I thought, almost exactly the same."
When the old man walked away, he closed the curtain beside the bed.
After a while, the girl's sobs, which she tried her best to suppress, still spread outside the wooden house through the bed curtain.
Chapter 558 The Origin of the Scar
The next day, the old hermit stitched half of Ciri's left cheek.
The girl rubbed her face with her hands and began to complain about throbbing pain in her ears and allergy symptoms on her neck.
Even so, she left the bed where she had been lying for a week, put on her clothes, and walked out of the cabin.
Visogota didn't object, but just quietly stayed by her side, watching her staggeringly stepping on the grass.
"It's cold! It's freezing me up. It's winter already? How long have I been in bed? How many weeks?"
"Exactly six days. Today is the fifth day of October, but it seems that October this year is abnormally cold."
"October [-]th? How is that possible? It's been two weeks?!" the girl exclaimed.
"What? What two weeks?"
"Nothing. Maybe I'm mistaken about where my horse is?"
"In the corral."
Seeing her own black mare again, Ciri's face regained some vitality.
However, what happened next plunged her into depression again.
It wasn't until he couldn't get on the horse anyway that Ciri had to accept the fact that he was extremely weak and couldn't leave this wooden house and this swamp for the time being.
A few days later, the old hermit removed the remaining sutures for her.
His suturing skills are still as superb as when he was a professor of surgery at Oxburgh College.
The stitches are neat and clean, so you don't have to worry about the wound getting inflamed or something dirty.
However, seeing the gloomy expression on Ciri's face, the pride and satisfaction in the old hermit's heart were immediately discounted.
The girl just stared intently at the mirror, trying various angles, trying to hide her cheeks with her hair.
But it was useless, a long and narrow scar extending from the eye socket of the left eye to the temple, was particularly conspicuous on that delicate face.
The redness and swelling around the wound did not disappear, and traces of pinholes and sutures could be vaguely seen.
These conditions will improve over time.However, Visogota knew that this scar might change the girl's appearance forever
. . .
With the careful care of the old hermit, Ciri felt much better, and the time spent walking gradually exceeded the time spent lying in bed.
Especially to the old hermit's surprise and satisfaction, she did not bring up the matter of leaving again.
This girl of unknown origin also seemed to understand that it was a very stupid decision to drag her weak body and continue to avoid the pursuit of the enemy.
Probably out of boredom, she would come over to help the old man when he made the animals he hunted into leather one by one.
While working, the two started a strange conversation.
One is a female bandit and son of the ancients who does not want to expose her identity and origin, and the other is an old hermit who does not want to be found by others and lives in seclusion in the swamp. The words of the old and the young are full of temptations.
And under mutual testing, neither of them could believe the other's evasion.
In the end, the two came to a conclusion: honesty is the only choice.
The old hermit decided to speak first:
"I am Visogota from Corvo. I was a doctor, a surgeon. I was an alchemist, and then a researcher, historian, philosopher, and moralist. Professor, was forced to leave the academy because he published several works that were regarded as heresy. Fifty years ago, this crime was punishable by death. So I had to leave my hometown and come to Nilfgaard in the far south Empire, temporarily settled here, and served as a professor of philosophy and ethics at Imperial College"
"After [-] years in this position, history repeated itself after a certain paper was published and I was forced to flee"
"I believed I had the truth, I believed it was timeless, I believed it should take precedence over any political decision. I felt I had been wronged, that the tyranny of the Empire had been unfair. So I began to fight against tyranny joking"
. . .
In the dark of night, if someone sneaks into this hut in the swamp and peeps in through the window, by the dim light, he will see an old man with a white beard listening intently to a silver-haired girl by the fireplace, telling With a story.
He would see the girl speaking slowly, seeming to be pondering every word that came out of her mouth, and rubbing her horribly scarred left cheek nervously from time to time.
The girl was talking about her own life, but fell into silence from time to time, not knowing how to continue.
However, she didn't stop, but tried to recall everything she had experienced in her mind, and then told it in a calm tone as much as possible.
However, no one saw all this, let alone heard it.
For the sunken-roofed hut, shrouded in thick fog, lay deep in the untrodden swamp.
Here, no one dares to come
Chapter 559 Arrangement of Fate
"Where do I start?"
"Well, let's start with how I was thrown into that damn hot desert!"
Under the light of the oil lamp, Ciri, who was sitting by the fireplace, began to tell the old hermit what happened to her:
The time went back to three months ago, the first day of July, in the early morning.
Location: Thaned Isle
When Lu Qi and the witcher blocked Vigfortz, she turned around and ran away without hesitation.
At some point, she vaguely heard a call from the Seagull Tower not far away.
Ever since, she stepped into the dilapidated tower full of history by accident.
However, what she didn't expect was that Wigfortz defeated the demon hunter and Lu Qi, and also came to the tower.
When Vigfortz was about to find his own destiny, Ciri was forced to pass through the "Thor Lara" portal of the Tower of the Seagull, and was teleported to the southeast of the North, called "The Frying Pan". In the Koraz Desert.
She didn't know if the original destination of the portal was this desert, she only knew that she almost died in that desert.
Until a pure white unicorn that only appeared in legends or dreams saved her life and led her to the water source.
Although she didn't know when the unicorn would leave, Ciri still relied on her amazing willpower and a certain calling in her mind to stubbornly walk out of the desert full of death.
However, unforeseen circumstances caused her to be caught by a group of mercenaries hired by the Nilfgaardians as soon as she walked out of the desert.
Along with her, there is also a member of the Rat Gang, Carlyle.
When the Rats came to save Carlyle, she fled with them and joined them under the pseudonym "Falja".
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