Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           Momentumaidedherclimbuntilsheslippedontheconiferneedlesandfelltoherkneesnexttoafigurehuddledonthestones.Theyoungster,onseeingher,jumpeduplikeaspring,backedawayinaflashandnimblygrabbedtheswordslungacrosshisback–thentrippedandcollapsedbetweenthejunipersandpines.Themagiciandidnotrisefromherknees;shestaredattheboyandopenedhermouthinsurprise.

           Becauseitwasnotaboy.

           Frombeneathanash-blondefringe,poorlyandunevenlycut,enormousemeraldeyes–thepredominantfeaturesinasmallfacewithanarrowchinandupturnednose–staredoutather.Therewasfearintheeyes.

           "Don’tbeafraid,"Trisssaidtentatively.

           Thegirlopenedhereyesevenwider.Shewashardlyoutofbreathanddidnotappeartobesweating.ItwasclearshehadalreadyruntheKillermorethanonce.

           "Nothing’shappenedtoyou?"

           Thegirldidnotreply;insteadshesprangup,hissedwithpain,shiftedherweighttoherleftleg,bentoverandrubbedherknee.Shewasdressedinasortofleathersuitsewntogether–orratherstucktogether–inawaywhichwouldmakeanytailorwhotookprideinhiscrafthowlinhorroranddespair.Theonlypiecesofherequipmentwhichseemedtoberelativelynew,andfittedher,wereherknee-highboots,herbeltsandhersword.Moreprecisely,herlittlesword.

           "Don’tbeafraid,"repeatedTriss,stillnotrisingfromherknees."Iheardyourfallandwasscared,that’swhyIrushedhere—"

           "Islipped,"murmuredthegirl.