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    Summary

    So she wasn't entirely sure what was going on, which was the excuse Yennefer was going to use if anyone asked her how she managed to walk into a camp without even realizing it. One moment she was alone in the forest, and the next, half a dozen men were surrounding her. They wore familiar black armor, and Yennefer guessed that she must have somehow wandered into a Nilfgaard encampment that had managed to escape the slaughter. They were saying something to her, but she had no idea what. She didn't really care. The fire was right there in front of her, and she used it to end all of their lives. Her grip on her Chaos felt strange like it was falling through her fingers, and she decided that it was probably time to find somewhere to hide.

    "Yennefer?" a broken voice said. Yennefer turned intending to end another life and blinked. A pair of familiar blue eyes stared back at her in torn and dirty clothes. He was thinner and covered in blood and bruises. His hands were tightly bound in front of him, and he looked like he was about to pass out.

    "Jaskier," she said, and they stared at each other for what felt like a long time.

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