The kingdom of Kaedwen bordered the Dragon Mountains to the north and the vast Blue Mountains to the east.
As one of the Northern Kingdoms, its climate was changeable, especially in autumn, when whether it was hot or cold depended entirely on luck.
Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the primeval forest, scattering countless patches of light, large and small, across the ground.
A stream flowed nearby, burbling softly.
Clearly, his luck today was fairly good.
Arwen's black cloak was covered in dust, and the catlike eyes beneath his hood showed his fatigue.
The black mare beneath him ambled along, occasionally nibbling the wild grass by the road that had yet to wither, or stepping into little puddles in the mud to amuse herself.
He had set out from the White Stone River at the foot of Kaer Morhen and had already spent three days traveling through this primeval forest. The saddle had nearly rubbed his backside raw.
He had not seen a single person along the way, and the excitement he had felt at first had completely dissipated amid the tedium of travel.
Fortunately, he had a little companion.
"Caw, caw, caw!"
A light black figure flew over his head, circled a few times, then landed on his shoulder.
It was the raven that had accompanied him on his monster hunts at Kaer Morhen.
Arwen raised a hand and teased the feathers beneath his neck. Raven shook his neck and closed his eyes in comfort.
Ravens were already renowned among birds for their intelligence, and after eating so much monster meat, including Old Spearhead's, his feathers gleamed, and he looked striking and handsome.
Perhaps that was also why he had followed Arwen all this way.
Arwen glanced at the wheel ruts on the ground. They were distinctly sunken, and the footprints around them were fresh.
He planned to follow them. He was certain he would find somewhere people lived.
Before they had gone much farther, Raven suddenly tilted his neck, his glossy black eyes looking into the distance.
"Caw, caw, caw!"
He opened his beak and shrieked, then beat his wings and flew into the sky.
Arwen's brows drew together slightly. After spending so long together, he already understood what Raven meant.
Something was happening ahead.
He tightened his grip on the reins, urging the mare a little faster.
He continued onward, crossed a stream about to enter its dry season, then rounded a bend.
A scream suddenly rang out.
"Help!"
"Stay away from me, you damned monsters!"
"Get away!"
Urgent cries for help echoed through the woods, while Raven cawed overhead.
Arwen peered ahead with his catlike eyes.
It was roughly fifty meters ahead.
A wagon lay overturned, its load of sawn timber scattered into the woods.
There was rosewood and birch, all of very good quality.
Two humanoid creatures, about a meter and sixty centimeters tall, were rummaging through the wagon.
Their shoulder muscles bulged high, their bodies powerfully built, with a thin layer of down covering their bronze skin.
They wore dry grass skirts around their lower bodies and held crude stone axes in their right hands.
From that alone, one might have mistaken them for uncivilized savages from some wilderness.
But as cloudy drool dripped down and his gaze moved upward, he saw that atop each "savage's" powerful neck was an enormous, hideous dog's head.
"Vodyanoi."
Arwen recalled the account in The Book of Monsters. They often appeared near mountain forests and mine shafts, liked causing mine collapses, and struck miners' heads with stone axes.
If someone was unfortunate enough to encounter them, they could leave out a bottle of brandy, because brandy tasted sweet, and these creatures loved alcohol as much as life itself.
Just like now.
The vodyanoi dug a glass container out of the wagon, opened it, and sniffed it before eagerly sticking out their tongues and drinking with relish.
"Damned things, that's a treasure I've kept for years! You ugly brutes, the gods ought to give you smallpox and the plague!"
The voice came from a tree beside the overturned wagon.
A middle-aged man in a green padded coat and a padded cap hid there, screaming and cursing incessantly.
Idiot.
Arwen silently cursed him. Doing that served no purpose other than angering them.
He would have been better off climbing down and running while the vodyanoi drank. He might at least have had a chance of survival.
Sure enough, the vodyanoi beneath the tree grew irritated by the noise and turned to roar at the middle-aged man.
They set down the bottle, brandished their stone axes, and hurled them at him.
"Ah!"
An axe flew past the middle-aged man's head. Its fierce passage left his legs trembling, and he wrapped both arms around the trunk, trying to climb higher.
Smack!
But as he climbed, the wooden handle of a stone axe still struck him hard in the back, nearly knocking him out of the tree.
"Roar, roar, roar!"
The vodyanoi howled strangely, picked up their axes, and threw them again. They licked their hairy chins, bloodthirsty savagery showing in their eyes.
After fine liquor, it was naturally time to enjoy the main course before them.
Arwen swung down from his horse and first brushed his right palm over her mane to keep her calm.
Then he gripped the wolf-headed sword hilt in the sword sheath on his saddlebag.
He drew the sword, its silver gleam shining across his pale face.
His left index finger lightly touched the blade, its keen edge stinging his fingertip.
Strictly speaking, he did not need to check the silver sword's sharpness, since he had only wiped down its blade last night.
But this was part of preparing for a monster hunt. Rules were rules.
He opened the saddlebag. A wooden case sat right on top.
He pressed the catch with a finger, and the case opened with a click. It was packed with dry hay to cushion against impacts, and each compartment held a dark glass bottle.
Arwen quickly took one out. The bottle was labeled [Tawny Owl].
For two vodyanoi, a couple of mouthfuls should be enough.
With that thought, he pulled out the oak stopper, tipped his head back, and drank, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Once the cold liquid dropped into his stomach, his heart rate and adrenaline rapidly surged.
He returned the remaining [Tawny Owl] to the wooden case.
He rolled his neck. Black veins spread like venomous snakes from his chest to his face, and he exhaled a murky breath.
His left hand formed a sign, and a blue Quen shield enveloped his body.
Amid the vodyanoi's strange cries, he charged out with his silver sword in hand, moving faster and faster without a sound.
The wind blew through the branches, making them creak.
"Roar?"
A vodyanoi watched the green-clad man in the tree with a mocking expression, like a human watching a clown.
Suddenly, it froze, as though sensing danger, and whipped around.
Whoosh!
Silver swordlight filled its eyes as the keen blade sliced through the air.
A line of blood suddenly spurted out. One stroke slit its throat.
Gurgling sounds came from the vodyanoi's mouth as blood flooded its throat.
The other vodyanoi nearby shrieked at the sight and swung its stone axe at him.
Arwen pivoted on his right foot and swiftly dodged.
The stone axe slammed into the mud, its tremendous force gouging out a hole.
Seizing the opening, he stepped forward with his left foot and planted the heel of his hobnailed boot on the back of the stone axe, pinning it hard into the mud.
"Roar!"
The vodyanoi roared at Arwen, the muscles in its arms bulging. Spittle flew beneath its sharp teeth, and a rotten stench hit him in the face.
Disgust flashed in Arwen's eyes, and he thrust his left hand against the empty air.
The Aard Sign blasted outward.
The vodyanoi's hands were torn from their grip on the wooden handle, and its body reeled backward. It staggered several steps before regaining its footing.
It bared its teeth and shrieked, fear appearing in its mung-bean-sized eyes. It turned to flee, but Arwen's silver sword had already caught up.
Shick!
The vodyanoi stumbled backward again, clutching its belly with both hands. Blood stained its fur red, and its entrails spilled uncontrollably between its fingers.
The vodyanoi fell to its knees, able only to watch as Arwen walked up before it.
Silver light fell, and its vision flipped upside down and tumbled to the ground.