(Somewhere in the outskirts of Vizima) 

“W-what in the hells happened to you?” Miki asked frantically as he bent down beside the broken frame of a man. He was sprawled on the ground in an awkward position as his life blood oozed out from a large wound in his belly, staining the leaf-covered ground. 

“I was… attacked by a…” rasped the dying man, “I think it… was a… deformed humanoid or… my ribs are broken I think…” 

“C’mon Miki think!” he unconsciously thought aloud. He tried to open his backpack but as the panicking medic did so, the contents flew out of his bag and littered the ground. 

“Aaaargh!” The injured man wailed, and then passed out from the pain. 

“B-by the gods! W-wake up!” stammered Miki as he slapped the bearded face of his patient. He looked down at the wound and nearly passed out himself. The man’s stomach was ripped open and vital organs were visible amidst the red deluge. 

“Breathe Miki, breathe,” he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. How could a novice medic hope to staunch the bleeding from a fatal injury such as this? “Red to red, white to white and everything will be alright. Red to red, white to white and everything will be alright…” he kept repeating to himself as he fumbled around for bandages. “Red to red, white to white and everything will be alright. What the f…, it’s all red!” 

The wounded man’s eyes suddenly flicked open. Miki paused. He slowly lifted an arm and pointed at something behind the medic. The novice healer scratched his bald head and turned around. What he saw was a sight he would remember for the rest of his days. It was something that resembled an autopsy… only that the subject was very much alive!  

He was taken aback at the sheer ugliness of the creature he faced. It was of human form but its face was disfigured and full of lumps and warts; its nose was crooked with clumps of hair protruding from its nostrils. The horrendous beast was wearing tattered rags and was as tall as a man. It hissed at him, revealing yellow pointed teeth that it undoubtedly used in opening his patient’s stomach like an apple with a sharp knife. Miki’s knees buckled. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a…scalpel. His dark green eyes widened in terror as he realized that the “weapon” he wielded might not be enough to kill whatever he faced that evening. He slowly backed away form the monster, waving the scalpel wildly into the air, hoping to scare off his enemy. As he did so, he lost his footing and came crashing down on the injured man, who howled in pain so loud that birds from treetops fluttered away in fear.  

Flat on his back on top of his patient, Miki groped around and his hand came in contact with a stone the size of a fist. Instinctively, he flung it at the lumbering beast. And as luck would have it, the missile struck the bulbous face with a loud sickening thud. The monster halted in its tracks and fell backwards, crashing to the ground. Then everything went quiet. 

After a few moments, Miki closed his eyes and opened them again, unable to believe what just transpired.  

“Hurry… before it awakes…” gasped the wounded man, “and please…”  

“Hush my good man, conserve your energy.” 

“Please sir… you have to…” 

Feeling quite proud of himself, Miki interrupted again, “I already took care of it. No need to worr...” 

“Please get off me!”  

The medic scrambled to his feet muttering his apology. He gathered the bandages from the ground and began attending to the wound.  

“I think we can get out of here before that… thing… wakes up,” Miki said hurriedly. “We’ll head for Vizima, at St. Lebioda’s Hospital. I’ll take you to Shani- my mentor. She’s really skilled with healing people and I bet you’ll be up and about in no time. I even broke my ankle once and…” 

“I hate… to interrupt your… story… but I think the thing… is waking up.” Miki whirled around to see the creature began to stir indeed. “Hurry… kill it…” 

“W-what? Me? Why don’t we run instead? “ 

“I can’t even… stand up…” 

Fear began to creep up Miki’s spine. “Why oh why did I even agree to gather herbs for Shani at this time?” He thought aloud again. He picked up his scalpel and slowly walked towards the body of the moving monster, hands outstretched with weapon, pointing at his target. The grotesque monster was still unconscious but it was showing signs of waking up. “I am a medic, not a bloody witcher! How am I supposed to slay this thing?” he thought aloud once again… and certainly not the last. 

Not overly determined to finish off the monster, he sat upon its chest and held the tiny weapon across the exposed neck. He started to proceed with the grisly task of decapitating the abomination with surgical precision. Blood gushed from its throat as the razor-sharp scalpel sliced across the neck. It woke up with a horrified look on its bulbous face and tried to scream. But only gurgling sounds emanated from its mouth and started to choke on its own blood. It flailed wildly, clawing Miki’s face while he held it down securely to the ground. Slowly the body went limp and the medic finally loosened his grip on the monster. 

“I-I killed it,” he said, walking over to his patient. 

“Good… work… but the… pain… I don’t think… I can make it.” 

“Hold on. I got some fisstech to help ease the pain, for medical purposes of course.” 

He administered the illegal drug to the injured man and once again attended to the wound. He had lost a lot of blood and his face was as pale as a ghost. Miki began to doubt whether his patient would ever get to the hospital alive. But he was a medic. He was trained to help the sick and the injured. He would carry the man back to Vizima if he had to.  

“My name is Miki by the way, Miki Moose.” 

The man stopped breathing and his body went limp.

It looked like any other abandoned house at the outskirts of Vizima. It was dilapidated and bare on the inside, mostly due to the scavengers that picked the houses clean after the massacre of the villagers. The slaughter was believed by most to be the work of the witcher Geralt. Some even thought that the villagers deserved to be wiped out due to their perverted lifestyle, while some insisted that the witcher had nothing to do with the killings, but butchered one another in jealousy. Whatever the truth, one thing is certain- the outskirts have become a ghost town, dotted with abandoned houses, littered with bones and corpses, and filled with dark secrets.  

This particular house held a group of people- three elves and a human. 

WHACK! Blood trickled from his lips as a hard slap hit him. He was roughly held by one of the elves as he staggered from the force that hit his face. Although a captive, he was neither bound nor gagged. The elves didn’t expect him to live much longer anyway. 

“Now tell us dh’oinne, some of our possessions have disappeared… apparently plucked by a scrounger. And we would like to get them back, particularly a fat bag of currency.”  

“I dunno wha yer talkin’ ‘bout,” protested Fred, the human captive of the elves.  

The elven leader, Alberith, shook his head in disbelief, the squirrel tail dangling lazily from his cap, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Alright, I’m going to keep this conversation simple so your puny brain would understand,” stated the elf calmly. “Where the fuck did you hide our bag of orens, scavenger?”  

“I dunno know ‘bout any bags or orens,” squeaked the human. “I’m just a poor man trying to…” 

“Trying to loot the houses here in the outskirts,” Alberith finished for him. “We do not like humans wandering about our territory. Tell us where you hid the bag and we will let you go free.” 

The other two elves lowered their bows that were pointed at Fred and looked at their leader with surprise panted on their faces. It was not typical of Alberith to just let a human prisoner go. He was known for his take-no-prisoner attitude when it comes to human confrontation.  

“Okay, okay. I will tell you. But you have to promise to let me go once I’ve told you.”  

A malevolent smile was etched on the elven leader’s face. “You have my word human. Although I despise you and would rather gut you like a pig, I will honour my word. I will let you go if you tell us of its location.” 

Fred nodded and was violently shoved toward the door. It was dark outside. The outskirts were nothing more than a field with piles of rubble. Once his eyes got accustomed to the darkness, Fred did the stupidest thing he had ever done in his entire life- he ran from his captors that were armed with bows. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward a group of trees, hoping to confuse and lose the elves. But after a ten count, he got worried as his captors showed no sign of pursuit. Instead there a sharp twang, followed by another, and another.

Walking toward the Maribor gate, Miki thought about his encounter with the injured man and his “fight” with the horrible creature. He was a bit saddened by the death of the man but was a little restless and excited at the same time. The cause of it was inside his leather backpack that was slung over his shoulder, for inside was the decapitated head of the hideous beast he killed. Turning it over to the royal huntsman would yield him a few hundred orens. Three hundred at least, he assumed. All he had to do was get back to Vizima and hand over the trophy to the huntsman in the morning at the trade quarter where he usually set up his table.  

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as his arm was yanked and was pulled toward the back of the ruined mill. A hand was pressed over his mouth to avoid any accidental shrieks he might have produced. To his relief, it wasn’t a monster of any kind. 

“Can you please help me?” asked the man. 

“Wait a minute. I recognize you! Aren’t you Fred? Fat Fred the fist fighter?” Miki answered his question with his own questions, “Though you are not as fat as you used to be.” 

“Let's just say that I'm always feelin' hungry nowadays,” panted the former fist fighter. 

The medic could see the effects of poverty on the man’s face. He was thin with sunken eyes, and he was dressed like a beggar. Fred put a finger over his lips to indicate silence.  

“The Scoia’tael is after me,” he whispered. “Please, I need your help!”  

“I’m no match for the Scoia’tael,” Miki began to protest.  

“No, no, no. Please… it hurts,” Fred croaked. He turned around and Miki saw three arrows protruding from his back!  

Three figures slowly emerged from the darkness. The elves approached them with bows drawn and aimed at the medic’s heart.  

Miki’s eyes went wide with horror, “By The Eternal Fire!” he thought aloud for the last time as the arrows were loosed…