“Geralt... We must resolve this problem, mustn't we?”
She waited for his response: a word, just one, the slightest hint of a reaction. But the
witcher knew that he had nothing that he could dedicate to her and did not want to lie to her.
In fact, he didn't dare tell the truth for fear of hurting her.
Dandelion, ever-reliable Dandelion with his habitual tact, at last salvaged the situation
by appearing suddenly.
“Yes, that's right!” he yelled, plunging a stick into the water to scatter the rushes and
enormous river-nettles. “You really have to make a decision, it's about time! I don't want to
watch the act you're putting on any longer! What are you waiting for from him, Doll?
Something impossible? And you, Geralt, what do you expect? That Little-Eye read your
thoughts like... yes, like the other one? And that she content herself with the situation you're
comfortable with, where, without divulging your emotions, you are required to give neither
explanation nor refusal? How long will it take you to hear? When do you plan to understand?
In how many years? In the form of distant memories? Tomorrow, we part ways, by the devil!
Oh, I've had enough of you two. Listen: I'll cut myself a hazel branch to fish with, and you,
meanwhile, will have time for everything you have to say. Say it all! Try to come to a mutual
understanding. It's not as difficult as you think. Then, by all the gods, do it. Do it with him,
Doll. Do it with her, Geralt, and be good for her. And then, by the plague, either move on
or...”
Dandelion turned violently on his heel, breaking a bulrush and swearing. He planned
to fish until nightfall with a horse hair mounted to a hazel branch.
When he disappeared, Geralt and Essi remained motionless for a long moment,
leaning against the trunk of a willow tree overlooking the stream. They were silent, hand in
hand. Then the witcher began to talk at length and in a low voice; Little-Eye listened with
tears in her eyes.
Then they did it.
And all was in order
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