Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           "Geralt—"

           "Itwasjustadream.Abaddream."

           Cirishudderedviolently,curlingherarmsandlegsuptight.

           Adream.Justadream.

           Thecampfirehadalreadydieddown;thebirchlogswereredandluminous,occasionallycrackling,givingofftinyspurtsofblueflamewhichilluminatedthewhitehairandsharpprofileofthemanwrappingablanketandsheepskinaroundher.

           "Geralt,I—"

           "I’mrighthere.Sleep,Ciri.Youhavetorest.We’vestillalongwayaheadofus."

           Icanhearmusic,shethoughtsuddenly.Amidsttherustlingofthetrees...there’smusic.Lutemusic.Andvoices.ThePrincessofCintra...Achildofdestiny...AchildofElderBlood,thebloodofelves.GeraltofRivia,theWhiteWolf,andhisdestiny.No,no,that’salegend.Apoet’sinvention.Theprincessisdead.Shewaskilledinthetownstreetswhiletryingtoescape...

           Holdon...!Hold...

           "Geralt?"

           "What,Ciri?"

           "Whatdidhedotome?Whathappened?Whatdidhe...dotome?"

           "Who?"

           "Theknight...Theblackknightwithfeathersonhishelmet...Ican’trememberanything.Heshouted...andlookedatme.Ican’trememberwhathappened.OnlythatIwasfrightened...Iwassofrightened..."

           Themanleanedoverher,theflameofthecampfiresparklinginhiseyes.Theywerestrangeeyes.Verystrange.Cirihadbeenfrightenedofthem,shehadn’tlikedmeetinghisgaze.Butthathadbeenalongtimeago.Averylongtimeago.

           "Ican’trememberanything,"shewhispered,searchingforhishand,astoughandcoarseasrawwood.