bialy_wilk | "Come on, Roach."

As one gets close enough to the stables, they might notice several horses turned out to pasture, with stallions separated into paddocks of their own, at some distance. They might also hear the sound of song floating on the air, as Susan's singing a cheerful tune to herself while she handles mucking-out.

Roach flicks her ears disdainfully as two of the stallions bugle challenges to each other across the distance between their paddocks, and Geralt shakes his head. As they come closer to the stable building, he dismounts and collects Roach's reins, then leads her to the entry. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks, dry, as he observes the girl working at her chores.

"Sai Geralt!" Susan beams a bright welcoming smile at him, then laughs at the question. "The singing, ye mean? It makes the work go faster, 'tis all."

She sets the pitchfork to the side and comes toward them, careful not to approach too fast in case the horse is skittish. "Is this yer Roach? Oh, she's a lovely one, she is."

"Susan."

The chestnut mare, anything but skittish, watches the girl approach with calm eyes. Geralt looks about for a tie-up hook, then slings the reins over one nearby. "She does well enough. Came because we've just had a long, tough fight and have a long, tough journey ahead. Roach's gear could use some attention. So could mine, for that matter, if there's an armorer here."

At mention of the fight, Susan looks him over a good deal more carefully than she had before, looking for any sign that she might need to try to coax him to a healer or doctor.

"There is, aye," she confirms. "Sai Gimli, Gimli son of Gloin. He's incredibly skilled."

"There now, thee beauty," she adds to the horse, as she draws near and begins to examine her. Susan glances up at Geralt. "I'd suggest stabling her for at least a day, if ye can't stay longer, with grain and grooming, and let me look over her tack for ye and see what needs repair and what needs replacing entire."

Geralt takes a seat on a nearby hay bale and nods. "Fine," he says. "She could use a rest, and so could I."

And he won't lose any time by taking that rest here. "Gives me time to find this Gimli."

"I can help introduce ye," she offers. Susan begins to unsaddle Roach and strip her of her tack, setting each piece on her working rack for care.

The delighted smile she gives Geralt is bright indeed, oh aye. "Besides, if ye bide here for a bit, ye might see Ciri when she returns. She's found her way here."

At that, his head snaps up and his yellow-eyed glance focuses on Susan. "She has?"

"She has," Susan promises. She sets the tack down and gives Roach a comforting pat and a bucket of grain to work on, then comes to Geralt.

"She were here for a few days, just a short while ago. She's well, and were oh, so glad to hear news of ye."

He'd missed her again, damn it, but maybe not by much. "Did she say where she was, outside of this place?"

If she'd left him a message and Susan had known, she no doubt would have mentioned it already, so he puts that thought out of his mind.

"Where?" Susan frowns over that, thinking. "She'd mentioned - she were on the road, I wot, traveling. She'd just come from - she had a new horse, that she'd won in a race with a man called the Bloody Baron?"

Susan looks at him to see if the name means anything to him.

A small smile touches the grim corners of Geralt's mouth. "Then I'm not far behind."

He unbuckles his swords and sets them aside to lean back against the stable wall. "I just left the Baron, myself."

"Oh, then mayhap ye'll catch up with her!" Clearly Susan thinks this is wonderful news. She beams at him, then collects her kit and goes to start grooming Roach while the mare eats.

"Or at the least mayhap ye'll be able to see her again here. Ye were right, she's very dear."

He's reasonably sure he'd never said any such thing, but there's no doubting she could have picked up on it, anyway. Ciri is dear to him, and to Yen, and to the witchers of Kaer Morhen; that's all he can say with certainty.

"Maybe," he allows, watching as she works over Roach. The mare shakes out her mane, clearly enjoying as dried mud is curried from her coat.

He'd said before that he's not much of one for talking, but Susan thinks he'd like it if she were able to tell him of his daughter.

(years - five or six, now)

"She misses ye too, she said," Susan begins. "Very much. And she's still following in yer footsteps, with the monsters and the like, do'ee ken? She said she'd just come from a fight with a - a basilisk," she pronounces, carefully. "And that she'd taken not a scratch."

That tick at the corner of his mouth grows a little more pronounced. "Not a scratch, huh? Guess her footwork's improved."

He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, and considers her. "Bloody Baron told me a little of that fight. Sounded like quite a tussle."

"Aye, footwork's important," observes Susan, rather rueful as she thinks of all the practice Susannah'd had her do with the 'rizas to make sure the plates would fly where she intended them to go.

"She didn't tell me much of how it were she fought it, only what kind of creature it was and that she'd caught it by surprise and not been harmed." She shoves her braid back over her shoulder and bends to check Roach's hooves, one after the other, with a glance up at Geralt. "It seems an awful monster, say true."

He eyes her, the gentle-mannered stable mistress. Not that appearances ever mean so very much, when you come right down to it.

"They're nasty ones," Geralt agrees. "Huge, with talons as long as your forearm and venom in their saliva. Even a seasoned witcher might have trouble with one of those."

He gives her a close look, and Susan blinks. "Did I misspeak?" she asks, a little uncertainly.

Susan looks at her forearm, imagines a claw that long, and makes a face. "And she fought it alone?" She considers. "Mayhap? Either way, what a thing to face!"

He shakes his head. "No. You're right."

Her amazement probably warmed Ciri's heart. "Mostly, from what I heard," he says. "Did she happen to tell you where she was headed next?"

She thinks about it, then shakes her head. "Say sorry, I do, but I don't think she did."

"Don't worry about it."

It's more than possible Ciri doesn't want to be found, with the Hunt after her. But now he has something to go on, at least. He nods to the mare. "How's she look to you?"

"I can tell ye care for her," Susan says, straightening from her examination of Roach's feet. "She's in good shape overall, but if ye'd allow it I'd pull her shoes and trim her hooves a bit, mayhap give her a new set if we can. These are a tad worn."

She pats the horse on the side, then steps across to an empty stall and pulls the door open to show it to him. "Here's where I'd put her, if ye'd want to inspect."

He gets up to look into the stall more for her benefit than for his or Roach's – he's certain it's nicer than almost anywhere else the mare has been stabled and when he glances inside he sees he'd assumed correctly. "Sure," he says, to her first observation. "Trim them up. Got a farrier around here, too?"

Susan shakes her head. "I'd be the one caring for her, myself," she tells him. "I've done such for years, with my own horses. I've an arrangement with sai Gimli to make the shoes, but we've no permanent farrier that does naught else. But if ye'd rather take her to another in yer world, I'll not be insulted."

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