It was the cold that woke her, and before Cirilla opened her eyes, she was certain the Hunt had her this time. She sat up with an abrupt gasp that made her dizzy, adrenaline high, heart drumming so fast it hurt, hands reaching for her blade, felt fur touch her cheek and saw… A cozy fire. A woman, intently focused on roasting something in a stick. A heavy cloak that wasn't hers, wrapped around her shoulders. Most importantly, her sword lying right next to her bedroll.

She pulled it slightly out of the sheathe just to make sure it was there, then let the air out with a loud sigh. She slid her hands under her shirt and felt well done, clean bandages wrapped around her torso. Whoever found her had changed her summer clothes to a more appropriate winter outfit, too. It looked like she fell into the graces of the friendly locals of wherever-it-was again.

Not this time they caught you, Ciri, not this time. But fuck, was it close.

Every time she blinked, she saw flashes of Eredin and his riders hot on her tail, tearing worlds and worlds apart, barely giving her time to breathe –

"Left you with your blade. Hopin' you won't use it to stab me," The woman said between bites.

Naïve. Or confident she can take me.

Her witcher training kicking in, she was snapped back to the present, and evaluated the situation carefully. They were inside a cave, which was fairly dull as far as caves went. She sat on the sole bedroll, but the stranger's backpack was within sight. A fancy, rather unpractical bow caught Ciri's attention briefly. The bonfire was near the mouth, where the woman sat on the floor. A heavy blizzard howled outside. The natural, non-specter kind of blizzard, she hoped.

Woman. Tall, fit. Mesomorph. Ears, round. Average complexion. Hands, small, non-clawed. Scarred. Light-colored lines – old lacerating wounds. Skin, pale. Eyes, blue. Hair, short-black. Looks young, about my age. Armed. Blade – definitely enchanted. Lightly armored – worn out leather. Dressed for the cold. Nonhostile.

Human.

There was nothing in the woman that indicated anything supernatural, but the blade she carried was unusual in shape, and she had a glint in her eye that kept Ciri on edge. She trusted her instincts and chose a careful answer.

"Always snow this much around here?"

The woman laughed, then moved from the cave's mouth to take a sit nearby. She handed Ciri a mug of something warm, which she sniffed with a hint of suspicion.

"Just spiced wine, relax. Wouldn't go through the trouble of saving you only to poison you immediately after. And yes, it always does snow a lot this up in Skyrim. I'm Anne, by the way. Not from around here, are you?"

Ciri inwardly cursed. The thing about traveling through worlds was, she always had to make up a story on the go. She couldn't very well say she came from another dimension of time and space without getting neck-deep into trouble – be it the nearest madhouse or the nearest power dispute.

"I'm Cirilla. And, no, not much familiar with the land." A sheepish smile. "Share the food?"

Oldest trick in the book: use the food as an excuse to let others do the talking.

Anne extended her the barbecued animal. Ciri wasn't quite sure she wanted to know what it was. She bit it, and found it palatable enough. The wine warmed her insides pleasantly. She was kind of hungry, after all. Sure enough, as soon as she started chewing, Anne resumed speaking. She gathered information like a sponge, putting pieces together to form something believable.

"You can have it all, I've had more than my fill. You're lucky we're both stupid enough to be out in this weather, in the same isolated corner of the world. Would've frozen to death out there for sure."

Ciri was not oblivious to the implicit question in the woman's words. She took a big bite of the meat and muttered, "Mhh. Not familiar with the land. Didn't know storm was comin'."

Anne squinted, a sly smile crossing her features. "You from Hammerfell? You look the type."

Absolutely.

"Yes. Small town of Velen," Ciri bluffed shamelessly.

"Never heard of it. That anywhere near Tamriel?" the other continued, a reflexive look on her face.

"Few miles east of it."

The woman's smile widened. She leaned in closer, locked eyes with Ciri.

Awfully intense stare.

Cirilla did not drop her gaze.

"Bullshit. Tamriel is the name of the entire continent, and the people from Hammerfell have their skin dark and their hair curly."

Fuck.

"You blinked into existence. No portals, no gates, no nothing, you were suddenly just there. You don't look like anyone I've ever seen, and you don't know shit about this world. Just who exactly are you, really?"

Of all the possible inhabitants of this land, I just had to fall into the hands of one tricky as a fox.

Ciri tentatively fingered the pommel of her sword, reconsidering the threat.

"I, ah, must've hit my head. It's true, I'm quite confused –"

"Bandaged you all over. Didn't see any head wounds."

"Bit nosy, aren't you?" Ciri snapped, patience running thin. "Care to mind your business?"

"I am." Anne crossed her arms. "Look at this blizzard. Think I'm out in this weather as coincidence? No, I was sent for you, Cirilla. Been having dreams about the place you popped in for months now. And just as I finally find the spot, suddenly there you are."

She decided that being expected in another world was in fact worse than having to come up with a story. She considered blinking away then and there, but curiosity got the best out of her.

"Who sent you?"

"I'm not sure – though I do have my suspicions. You truly from another world?"

Seeing no point in hiding it any longer, she nodded.

"Akatosh, then. This, this border patrol thing, that's supposed to be his job. He's using me as his errand girl again, and I don't like it one bit." Anne rubbed circles in her forehead with her index and middle fingers. "Alas, my dysfunctional relationship with my sort-of-father shouldn't be your problem. You've entered the realm of Nirn. People can go in and out of it all the time and no one gives a shit, except Aka wants me to check on you for some reason. So state your business, I'll help you with it, and we can both go our merry ways."

Ciri chose that moment to stand up. She dusted herself, repositioned Swallow on her back, and crossed her arms. Anne rose to her feet.

"No business. I shan't be long. Same reasons that brought me here will take me away – I'm fleeing. You sensed my coming – that's bad. It means my pursuers will pick up my trail soon enough, and I'll have to hop away to other world."

"You must have done something quite unimaginable, that they would give chase through worlds and worlds." The woman tapped a pensive finger to her chin. "Or rather, you must have something precious to them. What is it?"

She scoffed. "Either my blood or that of my unborn child, depends on whom you ask."

"You with child?"

"I will be, if they catch me," Cirilla replied darkly. "But in your words, my relationship with the Wild Hunt shouldn't be your problem. I apologize for the trouble – I'll move on as soon as I've recovered my strength.''

"Forget it. I told you, I'll help. You can't run away forever, and taking down degenerate bastards is a job right up my alley." Anne answered, picking up her backpack from the ground.

She was touched. Not by this woman in particular, but by all of them – the people from many different worlds who volunteered to risk their necks for her, despite her warnings, and how it usually ended in disaster. She dropped her gaze and actually teared up a little.

Not the time to get sentimental, Cirilla.

"Thanks. Really, thank you. But I'm afraid I can't accept it. The Wild Hunt…you don't know what you're offering."

Anne placed her hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She looked up, met her gaze.

"Been doing this for a while now, haven't you? Fleeing them." The woman gave her a knowing look. "I've dealt with many situations like this before. I didn't get sent here for nothing, Ciri. I have a…very particular set of skills. Have a little faith."

Anne's hands moved delicately, fastening the cloak around Ciri's shoulders. "Now, tell me what, exactly, are we dealing with. The Wild Hunt. I know what they want. I know how far they're willing to go to get it. Now I must know who they are, and how to stop them."

Ah, why the fuck not

"They are...specters of sort. Skeletal riders, covered in plate, eyes burning like blue fire. They come in the thousands, with hounds born of ice, and with them comes the White Frost, a cold that freezes the world solid and leaves death in its wake."

"Mmh." Anne turned her attention to her backpack, rummaging for something inside. Ciri waited for an emotional response, but none came. The description hadn't scared the woman, it seemed. "And of their leaders? Have they any?"

"It's complicated. They come as specters, yes, but in truth, they're but elves from a distant world."

"Elves. Had to be." Anne pulled something out from her bag – a necklace. It looked like an amulet of sorts, depicting a dragon eating a sword.

"There's Eredin, their king," Ciri continued. "Cruel, ruthless, oppressive. Imlerith, his general, is a powerful and brutal sadist who enjoys physical confrontation. Caranthir is their navigator – the one responsible for leading them through worlds. The others can do short hops through space and time, but it is Caranthir who guides them across the realms."

"Caranthir. We'll take him down first, then the other two won't be able to escape."

"Would have done it already, were it easy. There's thousands of them Anne."

"Eredin, Imlerith and Caranthir, those are the ones you have to worry about," She insisted. "The others won't come. Here, wear this amulet. It'll keep you safe from Akatosh's backlash. Hopefully. Maybe you should drink my blood, too? I don't know, I have no precedents here."

She slipped the amulet on Ciri's neck without waiting for consent.

"Blood drinking, not going to happen. And, like hell they won't come."

"They can't come, I told you, it's Akatosh's job. There was a pact, long ago, sealed and resealed with blood over holy ground. And while there's a lot of rules to permanence in Nirn, I can assure you a full blown invasion from another realm is just not allowed – "

Something in the universe shifted. Ciri felt it, and she was sure her companion felt it too, for the already cold temperature dropped even lower, and the blizzard quieted down abruptly, subsiding to a breeze of frost.

"- As you're about to find out in rather spectacular fashion, it seems." Anne finished, taking her bow into hands. She fished out a single arrow from the quiver.

The movement that drew Swallow out of its sheathe was automatic, and so was the feeling of dread that crawled over Ciri's heart. They ran together to the mouth of the cave and outside. She gave the landscape a quick scan. They were on higher ground, but not by much, and down the hill, she could already see the swirling portals tearing open the fabrics of the universe. An armored figured stepped out, then another, and both looked straight her way.

"The one with the scepter, that's Caranthir," The ashen haired woman said for no reason in particular. Anne was friendly and willing, but Ciri didn't believe she could really be of help. No one ever could.

"One with the crown, must be Eredin?"

"The one and only," Cirilla continued. Maybe she was just sick of running. Maybe she just enjoyed sharing her woes for once, even if for a short while.

"Means the brute with the mace…"

"Imlerith," She confirmed.

They were making their way, the three of them, walking up the hill in a slow stroll, with the arrogance of a hunter who sees their prey trapped. Ciri tensed. Anne extended an arm, as if to hold her back.

"Wait for it."

She waited. They waited. All around them, more and more portals spawned, riders and hounds coming out of them endlessly. The elves, no, the monsters, grew larger and larger as they approached. When they were but a few meters away, Anne slung the bow over her shoulder, and holding the arrow in one hand, took a step forward. The cold was nearly unbearable then, dressed for it or not.

"Good day," Anne begun, in a perfectly diplomatic tone. The absurdity of the situation was such, Ciri had to hold back laughter.

"You can't do this," she continued. "Nirn can't be invaded by forces of other realms. It's against The Covenant. It's not allowed. You should leave."

A pause.

"Of course, Cirilla here, she's my guest. She can stay as long as she wants," Anne continued, louder this time, looking not at the incoming enemies but oddly enough, straight up to the skies.

No answer from the Wild Hunt – big surprise. The ground froze solid under Eredin's feet, plump snow turning to ragged spikes of ice as he approached. The world grew colder and colder – Except for the wooden amulet in her neck. It was strangely warm, and heating up. Uncomfortable against her skin, even. She brushed her fingers against it.

"Last chance," Anne insisted, now pushing the arrow against her own palm, until the pinkish skin turned white from the pressure. "If I spill the blood of Akatosh, things will get really ugly, really quick. For you, of course. "

Ciri expected no answer, and none came. The heat of the amulet grew almost unbearable.

"So be it."

Many things happened at once. The arrow tip broke Anne's skin, and crimson blood spewed, slowly soaking the metal. Among the rows of riders, rose a ghastly scream, then a blast of golden light. The leaders of the Hunt halted in place, as if stopped by an invisible force. The golden spark made more victims on the Hunt's ranks, riders and hounds being vaporized faster and faster.

Anne nocked her arrow, aimed up, straight at the sun, and released the string. For a moment, as the arrow flew, the world seemed to hold its breath. Abruptly, the projectile lost physical shape, turning into a bolt of energy headed towards the sun. And then all hell broke loose.

The ground around them literally exploded, as rays of sunlight came down and hit the Red Riders, disintegrating them in the spot. The golden hue was everywhere, impaling her pursuers but also imploding them. Eredin, Imlerith and Caranthir made a run and advanced after them, followed by the quickly disappearing yet still numerous specters. Anne had traded her bow for her blade, ready to face their enemy, and Ciri got moving as well.

The two had no illusion about winning this fight, so they ran instead. Ciri lashed out wildly with Swallow, not bothering to engage any adversary up close. She had no need to, either – contact with her blade was enough to induce the strange vaporization on the creatures. She dodged a jumping hound, rolling sideways, away from the hunt's leaders, and deflected a sword slash away from Anne's neck.

A horn sounded – the Wild Hunt's retreat horn. Ciri twisted back, to see the golden light seeping from the cracks in Eredin's armor. They pulled back as Caranthir opened a portal, all but Imlerith, who still pursued them fiercely. Then the amulet she was wearing spontaneously shattered into pieces.

BURNING UP!

She fell to her knees screaming, her body suddenly on fire. She lost conscience of herself as every nerve, every pore, every hair on her body seemed to lit up, and she could feel her very molecules vibrate faster and faster. She tasted metallic blood on her mouth, a wonder she could still taste at all, and her brain half processed an image of Anne's bloody wrist against her lips. She swallowed, and it slowly but surely doused the fire within. Time seemed to break down into disjointed fragments.

Flash!

Her arm struck a blow own its own, dismembering a nearby something.

Flash!

Rolling on the ground, cold snow, someone yelling.

Flash!

The sound of metal against metal, she was moving, running, blinking, stabbing.

Flash!

Holy shit is she breathing fire?!

Flash!

Tripping, falling, downhill, bleeding, someone next to her, Anne is that you shit we have to-

Flash!

A rushed whisper.

Tiid Klo Ul!

Time stood perfectly still, Imlerith's mace frozen static in the air, millimeters from either her shoulder or Anne's skull, depending on which way he swung. Ciri cranked her neck and her eyes met Anne's, aware and vibrant. They stood there, together in that bizarre crystalized moment, as if the two shared their own bubble of time and space.

They reached out for each other, hands grasping together, and Ciri closed her eyes and unleashed her gift, blinking them out of there to somewhere, anywhere. Like a held breath, time resumed its flow, and the two women fell –

In a mattress. A bed.

Safe?

The edges of her vision darkened.

A door creaking open. Voices. Unintelligible fragments.

"Shit, Anne –"

" – fetch Aela – bleeding – "

" – teleporting in my room –"

" – apocalyptic mess –"

Cirilla blacked out.