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Geralt sighed.
The little fox yipped.
Jaskier cooed.
“It’s going to leave when we get to the village,” Geralt warned him.
Jaskier glared at him, blue eyes under terse brows.
“And if it doesn’t run off the villagers will chase it off.”
Geralt remembered bloodthirsty knights and anxious mobs, hissing accusations and throwing stones. He’d gotten used to taverns turning down mutant money, even a short moment after he’d fulfilled the town’s contract. Humans had a fear of the creatures that lived at the edge of the forest, too close for comfort. He gripped Roach’s bridle, twisting the leather reins without pulling her bit.
“First of all, the fox is not an ‘it.’ That’s very rude, Geralt. She-“ Jaskier leaned down, to peer under the fox’s belly. “Yes, she will come with us.”
Geralt peered down at the two of them. The fox was definitely less wary of Roach’s hooves, walking close enough to them that he could hear the littler clatter of her claws on the trail. Jaskier kept gathering stones and sticks to throw forward on the trail which the fox would rush ahead to chase. Roach had become less wary of the little animal darting forward in the path, but she still shook her tail warningly when the fox was out of her peripheral sight.
“She’s only following because you keep feeding her,” Geralt said.
“She is my very best friend. She’s following us because she likes my singing. You know, I really do have a lot of female fans. Why last at court, the ladies were-“
Geralt tuned him out. They’d reach the town by later afternoon. Then the fox would leave. Geralt would be right. If his slow heart beat skipped when he thought of Jaskier’s disappointment, then it was only because the fox had surprised him.
The fox ran back, proudly holding the stick in her mouth. Her tail was high, accounting for the weight of the stick and possibly Jaskier’s ego at this victory.
“Good girl!” Jaskier trilled. “I think she shall be my lady muse.”