#Witcher3 Witcher3TheWildHunt Fanfiction

[opalrenna-blog]

Goat’s Curse

There were a small village just south of a lake that bordered Novigrad, no more’n fifty folk that lived there. The people had their fair share of troubles, but none moreso than the lady Umbre. She tweren’t a real lady o’course, but the lads called her so on account of her mightier-than-thou attitude. The women despise her while the men cared not for her. The elders told frightful stories about her and warned the little ones to stay clear o’ her. Still, she lived in the village relatively peacefully, save for the frown permanently etched onto her face and the snide remarks she tossed every now and again. The folk tolerated her, but also because a tendril of fear laced the town about her. 

You see, there lie a rumor about a fisherman’s wife who had crossed her once, here in the village. She had deceived her into buyin’ a sick sow, tits dry as brittle grass and dead within the week. After a noisy confrontation, the woman furiously refused to give a fuming Umbre her coin back. Two days pass and the fisherman’s wife rows toward the center of the lake to reel in her nets. Just then the lake bubbles and churns just below her boat. Creatures, scaly blue and the size of full grown men, swarm the boat with ravenous ferocity. There be least a dozen, all pulling and grabbing the boat while the woman shrieked for help. There were not a thing we could do. In minutes, her boat tipped and she toppled into the water. With one final scream, she slipped below the surface, crimson blood be the only remains of her. The creatures never reappeared and Umbre bought a goat instead, healthy and young.

           For years, Umbre remained and cared for her goat with diligence. The damn thing followed her like a duckling to its mother. Umbre kept it fat’n happy in return for its fur and milk. Behind closed doors, she came to love the animal dearly. It became her only friend, a small companion to offer respite from the long and unforgiving life she tried to escape. For she had no one else. Nobody had ever seen her try her time with a man or with any little ones at her cottage, not that she was a sprightly thing to begin with. She never held a meaningful conversation with anyone, so her life was a mystery to us. And for near a decade, that’s how she lived, n’ the folk were content it that way.

           Then one day, that was all over for her. The road thundered with heavy hooves of carriage horses. A poshe wagonette rumbled down the village’s main path, the massive horse pair kept in a tight canter. Tweren’t highly unusual. Our village was built off a main road for lakeside trading, so a traveler daily weren’t suspect in the least. A whole carriage t’were another story, however. They were clearly a wealthy type. The horses were healthy, powerful beasts, too large to come from any o’ the fields ‘round here. The seats were lined with a plush velvet, silvery-white like untouched snow under the moonlight. Two folk sat poised in the seats: a man with a well-groomed mustache, donning a sharp tunic and side-turned hat, and a woman well ripe into her pregnancy. The woman was just as well-dressed as the man, the two holding hands and noses so upturned, you could see the workings o’ their brain. I doubt they would have looked into any of the villager’s faces had a cry of fear not pierced the air, quickly followed by the carriage’s wheel jerking upwards and the horses skittered to a stop.

           The villagers were bewildered, children stopped mid-play and workers snapping towards the commotion. Umbre, doing her weekly laundry had been by the lake with her beloved goat at her side as usual. The goat must have seen a tasty patch across the road and had trotted over with complete obliviousness to the thundering carriage just before him. Fat and slow, the thing stumbled over its own feet and was left at the mercy of the powerful horses and a heavy wooden wheel. Umbre had turned, curious as the sounds as well, only to watch is her only companion falls victim to wheel. By the time the carriage slowed to a stop a few feet ahead, she was already cradling the creature in her arms, tears spillin’ o’er without relentlessly.

           “What was it, love?” the woman in the carriage asks, craning her neck to peer at what lay at the floor, “Was it a child? Eternal Fire, please don’t let it be a child.”

           “Ah, don’t fuss. Was only a stupid sheep, let’s keep moving.” The man turns to the driver, “Onwards, fellow.”

           Umbre grieved her goat, but had whipped toward the carriage at their words. Her already sour face contorted with a new hate, eyes blacker than e’er before.

           “Y-you!” she spat, slowly rising to her feet and pointing a long, bony finger at the carriage. Still unmoving, her call drew their attention.

           “Do you realize what you have taken from me? Do you understand the weight of your actions? No. How could you? You do not understand now, but you will. You will curse this day as I do. For I will take from you what you hold most dear. Only then can you understand, only then will you come to me and beg my forgiveness. So go now. Go! You can try to flee what you have wrought onto yourselves, but you will never escape my grasp. My world has been nothing but monsters and evil beasts, you will soon find yourselves in the same.”

           The village succumbed to a nervous silence.

           The man scoffed, lips curled, “You daft woman. It was only a mangy goat.”

           Umbre remained where she stood, watching intently as the carriage finally drove off with its previous quick canter until no one could hear its thundering hooves and lumbering wheels. Her finger never lowered, even as it was long gone.