**Chapter 1: A Desperate Winter's Eve**

The snowflakes danced in the fading light of day, casting a serene spell over the rolling hills and dense forests of the Continent. Geralt of Rivia, the renowned Witcher, gazed out at the winter wonderland with a growing sense of unease. He and his traveling companion, Jaskier, had been searching for a contract for weeks, but so far, their efforts had yielded nothing. The approaching winter had Geralt's stomach in knots, as the cold months were notorious for being lean times for monster hunters like himself. As they rode into another small village, Geralt's hopes rose, only to be dashed once again. The villagers, huddled in small groups, seemed more interested in discussing the latest rumors of bandits and beast sightings than inquiring about his services. Geralt's usually stoic face betrayed his concern as he scanned the village square, his eyes lingering on the few coin purses that hung from the belts of the villagers. "Perhaps we've come to the wrong place," Jaskier said, noticing Geralt's growing frustration. The bard's usually cheerful demeanor was tempered by a hint of concern, as he was well aware of Geralt's financial woes. Geralt's response was a curt shake of his head. "We'll find something. We have to." His voice was laced with a desperation he couldn't quite conceal. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in a warm orange glow, Geralt and Jaskier dismounted their horses and made their way to the local inn. The sign creaked in the gentle breeze, bearing the image of a foaming mug and the words "The Red Griffin Inn." They tied their horses to the hitching post and entered the cozy establishment, the warm fire and the smell of roasting meat a welcome respite from the chill of the evening. Over supper, Geralt tried to push down his growing anxiety about their financial situation. He couldn't afford to be picky, but it seemed that every village they passed through had already been saturated with rumors of monsters and beast sightings, leaving no room for a Witcher's services. Jaskier, sensing his friend's unease, attempted to distract him with tales of their past adventures. As they retired to their room, a small, dimly lit space with a fire crackling in the hearth, Geralt's composure began to unravel. His breathing picked up, and his mind started racing with worst-case scenarios. He felt a familiar sense of panic rising, like a dark tide he couldn't hold back. Jaskier, noticing Geralt's distress, set aside his lute and approached his friend. "Geralt, what's wrong? You seem... troubled." Geralt tried to brush it off, but his words came out strained. "It's just... winter's coming, and we have nothing lined up. No contracts, no coin... I'm starting to worry we'll be going hungry." Jaskier placed a reassuring hand on Geralt's shoulder. "We'll find something, Geralt. We always do." But Geralt's panic had already taken hold, his chest tightening, and his breath coming in short gasps. As the darkness outside seemed to press in on them, Geralt's panic escalated, his body reacting as if it were under attack. Jaskier's voice became a distant murmur as he tried to calm his friend down, but Geralt's racing thoughts and constricting chest wouldn't respond to reason. He was lost in a spiral of anxiety, and for the moment, there seemed no escape.