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    Summary

    “You’re Scoia’tael?” the Wolf asks. No doubt he recognises Iorveth from the various posters that the dh’oine have put out with what they consider a good depiction of his likeness. Iorveth finds himself inclined to disagree, but the red cloth and missing eye are a sure giveaway either way, even if someone has never seen him in person.

    “Iorveth,” he says, for completeness’ sake. It isn’t like the witcher is in any state to run into the next town to denounce him.

    “Eskel.” The witcher inclines his head in a polite nod. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Iorveth.”

    Iorveth barks out a laugh at the words, handing him a mug of tea to drink. “It has been a long time indeed since someone was pleased to meet me."
    *

    Iorveth finds a witcher on the brink of death in the forest and decides to nurse him back to health.

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