Every disturbance threatened to destroy the already threadbare trail he was attempting to follow. The wind disturbed the foliage on the ground and pulled dried leaves from their weakened grip on their branches, scattering them to the floor. But Geralt was less concerned with his comfort than the task at hand.
The pleasant cool breeze swept through the chinks in his armor, cooling and drying the sticky sweat that plastered his shirt to the metal and leather that had become a sauna in the afternoon heat.
The wind was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of the sun. Geralt was grateful for the fickle weather. When the wind tired and died down, the once playful shadows settled as well. They crept across the scattered foliage and scurried across the gnarled bark of the trees.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, creating dappled shadows that swayed lazily across the forest floor.
