He tried to spy the location of his vineyard from between these two blooming bushes but had not yet trained eyes to see the names popping out in the landscape before him. He was still new-ish to this region of Tousaint, different from the one with 2 s’s, as he himself was Gerald and not Geralt in this alternate reality cooked up just for the blog (and attached photo-novel of course; always the photo-novel too now, the ultimate output beyond a mere seemingly disparate collection of individualized posts). And a dog! he remembered. Chomp — he *thinks* that’s the name. Never really good with appellations. Pet of the old owner who passed away. “Looks like a canine goes along with the property,” said Princess Annabel while signing off on the deed and seeing the clause. He’d never had one, after all the years of living on planet… er, what *planet* is this? Anyway, maybe he was ready to settle down at last, put his witcher ways behind him.
“Morning Witcher!” a group of citizens called to him as he exited to viewing patio, joining the flow of the community again. “Gerald,” he tested. “Call me Gerald.” It would take a while to catch on.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 