I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Fortunately, the mud in Velen was soft enough that wheels and hooves left marks.

Zig and his group found the abandoned cart in the woods without much trouble.

There were many hoof prints on the ground around the cart.

Judging from the depth and size, three horses stopped here.

Judging from the age of the hoof prints, the time should be within a few days.

"There are tracks of horses here."

Zieg carefully examined the marks on the ground, his gaze following the direction of the hoofprints.

"Let's go, follow them."

Horse hoofprints stretched eastward along a narrow path, through a sparse grove of trees, and across several shallow streams.

Zieg walked at the front, his eyes fixed on the ground.

The tracks were blurry, blending in with the footprints and hoofprints in the woods. An ordinary person would easily miss them, but Zieg, paying close attention to the direction, was still able to discern the path they had taken from the intermittent traces.

After trekking for quite some time, a solitary house appeared ahead.

It was an abandoned, ordinary farmhouse, but a faint light shone from inside.

Three horses were tethered outside, leisurely grazing.

Zig raised his right fist, signaling the others to stop.

He listened intently.

Faint voices could be heard coming from inside the house; it sounded like they were arguing about something.

Zieg's eyes narrowed.

He turned his head and looked at Saqia and Zoltan.

There were three people inside, one man and two women.

Zoltan gripped his battle axe tightly.

"That's probably the person we're looking for. Snow White, the Frog Prince, and the little wood seller."

Zieg jumped off his horse.

"Dandelion, you stay and watch the horses."

Zoltan and Saqia also dismounted and followed behind Sieg.

The three walked to the door, and without knocking, kicked it open.

boom--

The wooden door swung open with a loud bang, crashing against the wall.

The talking inside the room stopped abruptly.

The room was simply furnished with a long table, a few chairs, and some miscellaneous items piled up in the corner.

Near the corner of the wall, there was a heavy wooden box. There were several freshly scraped white marks on the corners of the box, and the edges were covered with mud that hadn't completely dried. Although the lid was closed, the cold white light of silverware could be faintly seen through the gaps.

There are three people in the room.

One was a man around forty years old, with a fair complexion and fairly regular features.

He was wearing a well-tailored shirt; the material wasn't expensive, but it was very clean, and the cuffs were neatly trimmed.

However, when he sat at the table, he seemed somewhat spineless, with his shoulders slumped and one hand resting on the edge of the table. When his eyes darted around, he revealed a frivolous air about someone who made a living by his looks and words.

One is a woman who is nearly forty years old, but you can still see the beauty she had when she was young.

She was dressed in simple country attire, with a green long-sleeved top covered by a brown leather fitted top. The fabric and leather showed signs of wear, and a string of bright red beads hung from her chest.

The last one was a young girl, who looked to be in her teens. She had a resemblance to the woman in her features and should be her daughter.

The three sat at a table with food on it and wine glasses in their hands, having likely just been eating.

The sudden intrusion of Zig and his two companions stunned them all.

The man's hand trembled, and he nearly dropped the wine glass.

The young woman suddenly stood up and instinctively stood in front of the woman.

The woman's gaze swept quickly over Zig and his companions, seemingly trying to determine their intentions.

Zig didn't look at the man, but instead focused his gaze on the two women.

"You must be Tamara and Anna, right?"

The young woman, Tamara, changed her expression.

Anna's face instantly lost all color and turned deathly pale.

Zig sized up the two women in front of him.

Tamara looked almost exactly like he remembered her.

But Anna was much younger than he remembered.

In the storyline of The Witcher 3, Anna, despite being only in her thirties, looks like a woman in her sixties or seventies because her life force is constantly being drained by the old witch.

Anna, however, has not yet paid that price. It seems that her pact with the old witch has only just begun.

Tamara shielded her mother behind her, watching Sieg and the other two warily.

Zoltan looked around, his gaze lingering a little longer on the man who was trying to shrink into a corner.

"It seems these two women ran away on their own, not because they were kidnapped."

His voice was rough, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

When the fair-skinned man realized he had been noticed, a fawning and ingratiating smile immediately appeared on his face.

"Gentlemen, let's talk this out. Please don't resort to knives or guns."

His voice trembled slightly, and his gaze shifted back and forth between Zig and Zoltan, clearly assessing the weight of these uninvited guests.

Tamara's eyes flashed with displeasure at Evan's appearance.

But she didn't say anything, she just held her mother even tighter.

Sakia stood beside Zig and spoke in a low voice.

"Zig, should we send them back?"

Her eyes swept over the three people in the room, lost in thought.

"Judging from their expressions, it seems there's more to the story."

Zieg did not answer her question.

His gaze fell on Anna, or more accurately, on Anna's hands.

Anna instinctively hid her hand in her sleeve, but Zieg had already seen it when she picked up the wine glass.

There was a strange mark on the back of her hand, like some kind of brand or tattoo.

The mark was dark red and faintly exuded an eerie aura.

Zieg spoke.

What happened to your hand?

Anna's body stiffened.

She pulled her hands back into her sleeves and forced a smile.

"It's nothing, it's always been like this."

Zig's gaze lingered on the hand she had hidden in her sleeve.

"I don't think so. You got that mark on the back of your hand after you went to see the old witch."

Anna froze.

Zig continued.

"The fog that suddenly appeared in the castle was also created by the old witch to make it easier for you to escape, right?"

Tamara was startled and turned to look at her mother.

"So that's what the fog was like back then..."

A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes, which quickly turned into shock.

"No, Mom, why are you going to see that old witch?"

Anna fell silent.

A complex expression appeared on her face, a mixture of guilt and helplessness.

After a long while, she finally spoke.

"If we don't go to see Madam Tamara, neither of us will ever escape the cage of Raven's Nest."

She looked up.

"Sir, could it be... that you were sent by the Madam?"

Zieg shook his head.

"no."

His gaze calmly fell on Anna's face.

"But you should know better than I that since you made a deal with the old witch, they won't leave without collecting their payment."

Anna's lips were pale.

She seemed to want to explain something, but didn't know where to begin.

Tamara felt a sense of foreboding as she watched her mother's reaction.

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

She grabbed Anna's arm and pressed her for an answer.

"What kind of deal?"

In this land shrouded in mist, swamps, and the stench of decaying corpses, the "Lady of the Woods" is not merely a legend, but a damp shadow hanging over everyone's head.