Whitebark Stream verpassen

This time, she did not allow any prior awkwardness to set distance between them. Ciri stepped in close with a soft gasp, offering herself to be leaned on and eager to provide support. Her father slumped back, his backside swift to the ground as the coughing fit continued, and she pressed herself firmly to him for her own comfort as well as his.

Mahler tried to assure her, but her concern remained. She was no medic, had never had the patience or memory for potions like her sister once did, yet the sight of her father who withered beneath the strain of his lungs struck fear to the heart of her.

"They haven't-" she stalled, and reached hesitantly to plant the most delicate of kisses to the tufted charcoal of the gargoyle's cheek, "are they... helping? Is there anything I can do?"