Chapter Text
Jaskier's stomach growled once more. “Gods, I’m starving. We haven’t had a decent meal in three days,” he said, marching alongside the witcher on horseback, lips pressed together, hands on his hips.
“I know. But talking about it won’t magically fill our bellies,” Geralt grumbled without showing any understanding.
“Staying silent doesn’t do me any good either. Venting my frustrations, on the other hand, provides some semblance of relief,” Jaskier replied hoping for some sympathy.
“It only makes me feel worse,” Geralt admitted bitterly.
They walked along the path that wound through the fields. They passed villages where local farmers were already making hay, but here the grass remained untamed, reaching up to their waists. Every now and then Jaskier would angrily tear off a piece of a leaf and rip it in his fingers.
“At least you have the luxury of riding a horse. You have nothing to complain about. My legs ache from walking,” he stomped the grass underfoot demonstratively, “and my back is in agony from sleeping on the hard ground for the past couple of weeks,” he said and raised his arms high towards the sky and leaned to each side to stretch a little. “I’m starving…And don’t even get me started on how much we need to clean our clothes and also ourselves. I would kill a man for a hot bath,” he exaggerated as usual and gesticulated wildly.
“Ugh, are you done?” Geralt uttered, his patience wearing thin, even though his posture still seemed relaxed, swaying with the horse’s movements and holding the reins in his hand completely loosely.
“And the worst thing is,” he was not done, “that I haven’t performed for a live audience in ages, so my soul suffers from the lack of artistic expression as well. Meaning it’s not just physical pain, but psychological torment as well,” the bard continued, ignoring his remark.
“Jaskier, I’m begging you, can you try to calm down a bit?” Geralt pleaded.
"I think after knowing me for so long, you should understand that calming down is not exactly in my nature. Especially when my basic needs are left unfulfilled," Jaskier replied, his frustration still apparent in his voice.
“The only thing I need right now is silence,” Geralt muttered under his breath, so the bard wouldn’t hear.
“Fine,” he added after a while. “We should be nearing Bronowitz soon. Maybe we can find some work there. And come over here. Roach can carry us both if you’re feeling so tired. Our supplies are running low anyway, so we won’t overload her,” Geralt suggested, gesturing for Jaskier to join him.
Jaskier was so happy that he came running. Geralt grasped the reins with one hand, offering him support with the other. He also freed one leg from the stirrup, creating space for Jaskier to push himself up. The bard clutched the pommel and firmly gripped the back of the saddle, but before he could jump, Geralt grabbed him under the arm and effortlessly lifted him up and placed him securely behind him in the saddle.
Jaskier was only slightly taken aback by this, he was used to Geralt occasionally lifting him off the ground with the same ease when he tripped over a branch or carried him to safety when he got hurt on the job. He made himself as comfortable as he could and wrapped his arms around Geralt's waist.
__
They were standing in front of the village notice board full of messages written by the local people ranging from information about where to buy milk and eggs to a poster announcing the next dance in the inn.
“There’s something,” Jaskier’s eyes scanned the notice board until they landed on a particular piece of paper, his expression turning more serious. He dramatically cleared his throat before he started reading aloud:
“Good folk! My beloved daughter, Jasanka, has vanished. Our family misses her dearly and we worry about her well-being more and more with each passing day. Anyone who can help us to bring her back home will be rewarded. Szymon, blacksmith.”
Jaskier’s optimism shone through when he turned to Geralt. “That’s easy enough, right, Geralt? Finding a lost child should be a breeze for someone like you. You can sniff out people’s scents like a hound, is that correct? Once we locate the blacksmith, we’ll simply follow Jasanka’s scent trail straight to her,” his smile widened, crinkling his eyes and nose as the realization hit him. They can stay and finally catch a break. They will have a warm meal for lunch and sleep in a soft bed tonight.
Geralt let out a sigh. “Easy, huh? Only in case, the daughter wasn’t taken by some evil creature or even worse, already dead. And don’t go talking about me as if I'm some damn bloodhound,” Geralt complained.
“Do you always have to be so pessimistic? Truly you’re our little ray of sunshine,” remarked Jaskier sarcastically.
“I call it being realistic. The village is surrounded by these dense woods. You know what it means,” Geralt explained.
The bard’s expression soured, his lip curling with displeasure. “Unfortunately, I am all too familiar with the implications.”
“We’ll see. Let’s start by checking the local inn and ask around,” Geralt suggested.
“Yes, inn, finally, now we’re talking! Now we’re talking beer with a fluffy, creamy foam! Chicken legs and baked potatoes! Onion soup! And let’s not forget strawberry dumplings which taste like a perfect hot summer day!” Jaskier’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Jaskier, you’re drooling,” Geralt said shaking his head with a grin. The bard quickly wiped his mouth, a slight frown forming as he realized Geralt was only teasing him.
“Not funny,” Jaskier objected. “Let’s go.”
Geralt was already several steps ahead, smiling under his beard.
__
Not only did they enjoy a satisfying lunch and secure a room at the inn, but they also managed to find out where Szymon, the blacksmith, and his family live.
Not wanting to squander their funds, uncertain of how much the job would pay if anything at all, they settled for a cramped attic room with just one bed. It wasn't their first time sharing a sleeping space, though. In the worst-case scenario, one of them could sleep on the floor. However, Jaskier was resolute that it wouldn't be him, not tonight. He'd rather squeeze into a bed with five other men (not that this particular image would repulse him anyway) than endure another night on the unforgiving ground.
The blacksmith family lived in a charming small house decorated with hand-painted blue flowers in the traditional Velen style. In the garden surrounding the house were trees full of ripe, juicy-looking red apples and in raised beds on one corner of the house were planted various herbs. Jaskier wouldn't be able to identify all of them but thanks to Geralt’s teachings, he could recognize the ones useful as ingredients for his potions and healing salves.
Before knocking on the door, Geralt hesitated. “Jaskier, you should probably let me speak,” he suggested cautiously, brows furrowed.
“I won’t get in your way. It’s what you do. My job is to observe everything, turn the events into a story and write a heart-breakingly beautiful ballad,” Jaskier assured.
Geralt’s relief was evident as he nodded and proceeded to knock on the door. After a brief pause, the door swung open to reveal a young girl with piercing blue eyes and flowing fair hair.
The moment he saw her, Jaskier impulsively shoved the witcher aside. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he greeted the girl with a charming smile. “We’re looking for Szymon. We came across the notice on the board and decided we're more than willing to offer our assistance.” His cheeks were slightly flushed and his right hand rested over his heart.
“I’m Szymon’s daughter,” the girl declared, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She was far from being impressed with their arrival.
“What? So the problem is already solved!? We were under the impression that the daughter was missing,” Jaskier was genuinely confused.
“That’s my sister, Jasanka. My name is Ella,” she clarified. Her gaze swept over Jaskier, taking in his embroidered sleeves and relatively well-groomed hair. “You don’t exactly strike me as someone who would be able to track down a missing person,” she added, a note of scepticism in her voice.
“You’re absolutely right,” Geralt confirmed. “That would be my job.”
Ella examined the witcher from head to toe and nodded approvingly. “Come inside, I’ll find my father.” She stepped aside, making way for Geralt and Jaskier to enter the house.
__
“So you’re here to find my Jasanka?” the blacksmith asked, his eyes revealing the weight of his life’s struggles. His broad shoulders slumped with sadness and his hair and beard looked unkempt. His wife Lena warmly invited them to take a seat at the table and placed an apple pie in front of them. Jaskier looked at it with hungry eyes, but Geralt shot him a warning glance that silently communicated, ‘We’ve just eaten, and also show some tact’ before he could take a slice.
“Yes, I’m a witcher. I have plenty of experience in this area. My name is Geralt and this is Jaskier, he…assists me. Could you give us more information, so we’d know where to start?” Geralt’s tone was both reassuring and professional.
“Alright,” said Szymon and sighed heavily. “She disappeared a week ago, we’ve looked for her everywhere in the village and in the surrounding fields, but there’s been no sign of her.”
“Didn’t you think of searching the nearby woods?” Jaskier blurted out without thinking.
The blacksmith shot him a hateful look: “Of course we did, but none of the locals would dare to set foot in those woods. We know what lurks in there. If you are lucky, you’ll be torn apart by wolves or bears, and if it's really not your day, you might meet giant spiders, kikimoras, or even a leshy or bies.” Jaskier trembled at the thought, he had only heard about the last two creatures from Geralt, and they weren’t pleasant stories.
“Leshy or bies, huh? Not good,” Geralt concurred with a serious nod.
“We’re well aware of the dangers, thank you very much. You’re stupid if you think that we haven’t considered every horrifying thing that could’ve happened to my sister,” Ella’s voice quivered with emotion, but her determination shone through. Her mother wept silently, trying to compose herself by wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I don’t blame you for not going to the forest. Chances are, you would just end up with more missing people,” said Geralt sympathetically. “Is there anything else we should know?”
“Is there a boy involved?” Jaskier added with curiosity. From time to time, Geralt's contracts end up having nothing to do with monsters or the supernatural.
“Yes, actually, but it’s complicated,” Szymon admitted. “His name is Aleksander. He’s a travelling merchant, so he visits our village only once every two weeks. We’ve tried telling Jasanka that he’s no good for her - unstable, unreliable, always on the road - but she wouldn’t listen. She’s a stubborn girl. They’ve been seeing each other for about half a year. When the tragedy struck, we had no way of contacting him,” he explained.
“He wouldn’t hurt Jasanka, though. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body,” continued Ella.
“He still might know something. When’s the next time he’s due to come?” asked Geralt.
“At the end of the next week,” said the blacksmith.
“We can’t wait that long,” Geralt assessed the situation.
“So you didn't approve of him as a groom, but you were planning a wedding anyway?” Jaskier gestured towards the wedding dress hanging on the door to the next room.
“This was supposed to be my wedding,” Ella said quietly. “But we postponed…when we found out.”
“Jasanka is a good girl, Mr. Witcher,” Lena’s tearful voice broke the silence for the first time. “She loves animals and flowers…she spends a lot of time outside, gardening or gathering wild herbs and berries, but only in the safe places around the village and on the meadows… She even has a small herb garden beside the house. Her favourite pastime is preparing all kinds of jams, pickled vegetables, beauty products and healing ointments. She’s helped every single person in the village…There’s no one who would want to harm her…” Her voice trailed off as she started sobbing again.
“Well, in that case, the forest is still our best shot. Ella, can you tell us where exactly she goes for the herbs?” Geralt redirected his attention to the daughter, recognizing that they wouldn’t get any further information from the mother.
When Ella explained the way, Geralt stood up, ready to get going. “We’ll start straight away; there is no time to waste.”
“Now? But it’ll get dark soon,” Ella exclaimed, clearly taken aback.
“Right, the sooner, the better,” nodded the blacksmith. “I’m giving you my word that if you bring Jasanka back to us, I will reward you handsomely, Geralt.”
They sealed the agreement with a firm handshake.
__
“You can come with me as far as the edge of the woods, but from there, you’ll have to head back to the inn,” Geralt said as soon as the blacksmith’s door slammed shut behind them.
“No way, I’m coming with you,” Jaskier protested.
“Jaskier…did you not hear what they said about the forest? Do you have a death wish?” Geralt's gaze bore into the bard's eyes, unyielding and intense.
“N-no, of course not. But I have a long list of reasons why I need to be there. Number one: I’m worried about you,” he was counting on his fingers. “Number two: I want to help. Number three: you never tell me anything and I need details to write ballads about your heroic feats…should I keep going?”
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, covering his eyes with a hand in frustration. “Let me give you a different list: muscles, cat eyes, enhanced senses, agility, potions. Do you possess any of these?” he asked patiently.
The bard stroked his chin thoughtfully: “I’m quite nimble…” he replied with a hint of pride in his voice.
“Gods,” Geralt grasped Jaskier’s shoulders with both hands. “Listen to me. I’m a witcher. I’ll be alright. I’m worried about you. This job is too dangerous. So, be a good bard and go back to the inn. Play some songs and earn us some coin. You said you missed the live audience...”
“Alright, you could’ve told me nicely. Didn’t have to shake my whole body like this,” Jaskier said looking offended.
“I think I had to. Let’s go,” Geralt replied, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanour.
Following Ella's instructions, they walked along the river behind the house for about half an hour until they came upon a majestic old chestnut tree. Surrounding the tree was a picturesque meadow full of colourful wildflowers where they started their search for any possible clues.
“I bet the villagers have been here as well,” Jaskier said.
“Probably,” Geralt agreed, “but they didn’t have witcher senses and didn’t dare to continue into the forest.”
“And what are your witcher senses telling you?”
“I can smell an overwhelming scent of wolfsbane…it can’t be just an accident if the smell is so concentrated. I also know where it is coming from.”
“Let’s follow it then.”
“Jaskier, I can’t let you go into the forest with me. How many times do we have to have this conversation?” Geralt said, his tone filled with concern.
“But Geralt, I can handle myself! I’ve been in tight spots before! Like the time I served as bait for that vampire, or when we were collecting seaweed for Regis near the vodniks’ nest,” Jaskier was still trying to persuade him, but Geralt interrupted him.
"I know you're capable, but this time it's different. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. It might be something dark and powerful," Geralt explained.
"Exactly! That's why I need to be there with you." Jaskier insisted.
Geralt sighed, "I appreciate your bravery, but I need you to stay safe. I promise I'll return as soon as I can."
“Well, at least I’ve tried. Ok, I give up. I’ll go to the inn instead, but remember, my heart will be burning with worry about you the whole time. I hate when you’re in danger and I’m not around. And you have to promise you’ll describe everything to me in detail.
“I promise,” Geralt rolled his eyes. “Now go.”
Jaskier reluctantly turned on his heel and headed back to the village. After a few steps, he changed his mind, ran back to the witcher and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Please promise you’ll be careful,” he whispered.
“I will,” Geralt said softly wanting to let go, but Jaskier clung to him even tighter.
“Squeeze me harder,” Jaskier said, burying his face in Geralt’s hair.
“Jask, if I use any more of my strength, I’ll squeeze today’s lunch out of you,” Geralt teased, trying to lighten the moment. He was used to Jaskier’s intense emotions, but this was a lot even for his standards.
Jaskier smiled and finally let go. Then he said goodbye for the last time and left.
__
Geralt followed the wolfsbane scent to the forest pushing his way through thick bushes. As he ventured deeper, everything got noticeably darker, but it wasn’t a problem for the witcher thanks to his cat-like eyes. He pressed on, navigating the shadows until he reached a clearing that was neatly hidden amidst the tall trees.
Knowing immediately he was on the right track, Geralt started to focus his witcher senses and in no time, he found what he was looking for; a thin sky-blue blanket was spread out on one side of the clearing. Next to it was a half-finished bottle of wine. Upon closer inspection, Geralt realized there were a few reddish-brown stains on the blanket, which he initially thought came from the spilt wine, but he quickly understood it was blood.
“Someone bled heavily here, I’ve got to hurry,” the witcher said to himself.
After a while, Geralt also found the source of the wolfsbane scent, a small vial buried and almost invisible in the overgrown grass. He picked it up from the ground and smelled it.
‘Not good, someone tried to prepare a potion for a werewolf curse. Judging from the blood, it wasn’t very successful. If Jasanka was the potion-brewer, she might already be dead and it wouldn’t be difficult to guess who was the werewolf she was trying to save. Another option is that she could be the werewolf herself. Maybe she prepared the potion for her own salvation and Aleksander was only there to help her,’ Geralt thought while running through the forest, following the trail of blood.
Every now and then, he passed a few crimson drops splashed on the surrounding dark green leaves.
He continued to run until a shabby old cottage appeared before him, nestled among the branches. Cautiously, he walked around the back of it first, and even before he peeked in through the window, he sensed a mixture of human emotions from the inside; fear, pain, and anxiety. When he finally looked inside, he saw a girl curled up in the fetal position on the bed. Her clothes were dirty and stained with blood. He didn’t have to think too hard about the identity of the girl.
He moved swiftly back to the door and stepped inside. As soon as she caught sight of him, she let out a piercing scream, her face tightening into a grimace of fear and her eyes filling with tears. Her hands were tightly wrapped around her body, and she looked frail and utterly frightened.
“I’m not going to hurt you, child,” Geralt said trying to sound comforting. He opened his arms with his palm up, a gesture to reassure her of his intentions.
“I’ll take you home. Your family sent me. Your parents and your sister are worried about you,” he continued, moving closer to the bed. She seemed to relax a bit upon hearing the mention of her family. It was evident that she realized she would be too weak to defend herself, regardless of whether the stranger is dangerous or not.
“I was just…trying to help him,” she said quietly, tears spilling from her eyes and making their way down her dirty face.
“I know, baby girl,” Geralt said tenderly as he reached the bed and knelt beside her. “Show me how bad it is.”
She pulled her hands away from her stomach to reveal three long claw marks that stretched up to her shoulder. Splatters of dried blood were scattered around, but the wound was no longer bleeding.
“Ugly. It’ll leave a scar, but you’ll live,” he told her softly. She wanted to say something else, but Geralt wouldn’t let her.
“Stop talking, you have to save up your strength. You’ll tell us everything once you feel better” he said, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.
“I have to bandage those wounds to make sure they won't open while l carry you,” he explained to her as he took off his chest armour and pulled his shirt over his head. Then, he proceeded to tear his shirt into long strips of fabric.
She nodded slowly and pulled up her blouse. Geralt carefully undid a couple of buttons to make it easier, and then he gently lifted her upper body up with one hand and skillfully tied the bandages around her body with the other. When he was done, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing.
“Alright, let’s get you home now.”
__