Chapter Text
The snow had caught them off-guard, arriving earlier than anticipated. The roads were either covered in slush and ice or knee-deep banks, slowing their progress to Kaer Morhen. They hadn’t had time to prepare for the bad weather, Geralt having insisted he’d be able to find more work before the snow came. But that hadn’t happened, and now there was almost no work to be had as monsters retreated to whatever hole they lived in to wait out the harsh weather. No work meant no money, and no money meant no food.
Once they accepted their predicament, they sorted through their remaining supplies and had rationed it as best they could to make it last about two weeks, so long as they managed to catch a few rabbits or something along the way.
Neither could bear to see Ciri suffer through hunger, so they made sure she got the largest portions, even if they were still pitifully small. Geralt then tried to convince Jaskier to have more than himself, but Jaskier wasn’t having any of it. If Nilfgaard caught up to them, Geralt would be their only chance of escape, and it would do no good if he was too weak to fight. If anything, Geralt ought to have more than Jaskier.
Jaskier didn’t say this out loud. He knew by voicing his argument, Geralt would just brush him aside. But Jaskier knew he was right. He did eventually manage to convince Geralt he didn’t need extra, but he didn’t stop there.
If Geralt managed to catch something for their dinner, they would each share an equal amount, and things didn’t seem too bad. Unfortunately, that was becoming rarer as they moved higher into the mountains and the weather grew colder.
On the nights when they had to rely on their supplies, Jaskier would only have a few mouthfuls before sneaking the rest back into their packs. He hoped Geralt wouldn’t notice the supplies weren’t dwindling as fast as they should be, but Geralt had never been particularly perceptive when it came to people.
The first few weeks were rough. He was hungry and tired all the time, his mind filled with fog. Luckily he didn’t have to think too hard, just mindlessly following behind Roach, putting one foot in front of the other. He was miserable, but he kept going, knowing that at the very least he was saving Ciri from this empty torture.
Every night Jaskier would lie in his bedroll, trying to forget the empty feeling in his stomach, willing exhaustion to pull him into restless sleep. He would curl in on himself, hoping to stifle the growling of his gut as it felt like something was clawing at his insides, trying to get out. He was sure Geralt could still hear it but hoped he would put it down to the fact that none of them were eating enough, and not that Jaskier was barely eating at all.
It would be so easy to give in. To eat the entirety of the small rations handed to him at the end of the day. But then how would he make sure Ciri didn’t suffer? Or make sure Geralt would have enough strength to carry on, leading them up the mountain or fight Nilfgaard if they caught up. Though by the gods he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Ciri asked him at some point if he was alright while Geralt was away collecting firewood. It was tempting to tell the truth then, to give in. But his task had become important to him, made him feel useful. Their mission was to get Ciri to Kaer Morhen, and what was he but dead weight. The least he could do was to make things easier for them.
So instead of telling her no, he wasn’t alright, he gave her a smile and assured her, everything was fine, he was just a bit tired was all. She didn’t bring it up again, but occasionally he would catch her watching him, concern written on her face, even though she thought she was being sneaky.
She must have brought it up with Geralt because eventually he also asked if Jaskier if he was alright. It was harder to deceive Geralt, so Jaskier gave him half-truths. Yes, he was hungry and tired and cold, but he could keep going. Geralt seemed to appreciate his “honesty” and assured him they were only a few days away from the keep now.
The final leg of their journey through the mountains would be difficult, but the keep would be safe and warm. Geralt assured him they had plenty of food stored to feed everyone through the winter, and that thought alone kept Jaskier going.