Work Text:
The newest contract was some weird-ass ghost dog thing. Jaskier didn’t like the sounds of it– a pack of Barghest that appeared out of the mist. Geralt talked the bard through how they attacked. They hunted down their victim together, surrounding them until they had nowhere else to turn. The demon-dogs things made Jaskier suddenly think back to all of the times he heard odd growling in the woods at night and Geralt would simply say something like, “go back to sleep,” before going into the darkness.
Perspective changes things, doesn’t it?
Jaskier walked along the dreary road. It was raining, for one, and it sucked so bad. His hair was frizzy, even after he put oil in it. They were just in a hot city, so the change made his hair freak out against him. Geralt, the bastard, had no problems with his hair. Jaskier supposed it was all of the monster guts that rejuvenated the white locks. Jaskier loved his hair, but he wasn’t about to take after Geralt and have Drowner brains clump in his hair.
The road first noticed something was wrong when travelers would leave from one city, but not make it to the next. It was a narrow road– more of a path than anything. A carriage could pass through, but it would have to be on the small side. Jaskier held in a sigh as he passed through the tree that was marked once again. So far, he wasn’t attacked by any Barghest. The bard almost felt offended. He surely would taste divine.
He traced the hacked-out “x” on the tree bark before resting for a moment. He had walked a part of the road 3 times now. It was quite a stretch, but all within Geralt’s hearing. The witcher got to stay in one place, oddly enough. It was Jaskier who had to be the bait. Something about how the ghost-dogs could possibly tell that Geralt was a witcher. Jaskier simply thought Geralt was still hungover from the night before. Jaskier sneaked out some spirit from Kaer Morhen and the witcher dived right into it without a second thought.
After a short break, he started his walk back down the road. He was sluggish, not truly caring about his pace anymore. The Barghest clearly weren’t in any rush, so neither was Jaskier. The night was getting darker by the minute, so Jaskier hoped they could wrap things up soon. He was just about to reach the next marker when he heard a growl.
Jaskier turned around quickly, the movement almost painful. He saw red, reflecting eyes off of the road. He sucked in a deep breath before running away. He could hear the growls follow him. Strangely, he didn’t hear the leaves rustle or any twigs break. He chalked that up to the ghost-dogs being, well, ghosts.
Jaskier was out of breath by the time he heard the first whine. He slowed down his run and took a chance to look behind him. There, Geralt in all of his shiny glory, was fighting the beasts. Jaskier took that as his rest time. He laid onto the dirt road, almost uncaring that Geralt was fighting a pack of Barghests just a few yards away.
Eventually, Jaskier heaved himself off of the ground. He felt very sticky from sweat but was also cooled down, as the dirt road was muddy due to the rain. He didn’t even care about the clumps of mud in his hair or that his boots looked like they would tear apart any minute. He grinned at Geralt, who had a cloth out to clean his silver sword.
Jaskier, happy with relief, said in an almost hysteric voice, “Why did you make me run so much? Surely you heard me.”
Geralt hummed. He put his sword away, though he’d clean it off better once they were in town. He explained, “If you’re not tired tomorrow then you’ll want to play your lute at the tavern.”
“And? What’s wrong with that Geralt? Is my singing that fucking awful–”
“I heard the people inside when we were eating,” he interrupted hastily, patting the bard’s shoulder, only to get mud on his hand. Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the witcher. “They don’t like me, Jaskier. If you try to sing songs about my so-called heroics then they’ll probably chase us away.”
They walked down the road slowly. Apparently, Barghest fizzled away when they were dead. Jaskier looked around for slain beasts, but found none, so that must have been true. The only way Geralt would get paid was if no travelers go missing for a few days. That means Jaskier had to suck it up and not sing about the White Wolf.
“We should have left that town to rot,” simply said the bard.
“120 Ducat is nothing to skip,” argued Geralt.
“But if the people here are ungrate–”
“Jaskier, some people won’t change. Queen Calanthe, for one. Random small-town folk, for another.”
Jaskier crossed his arms. “I don’t like it.”
They continued to walk for some time. Roach wasn’t around, as the ghost-dogs were known for also killing horses and livestock. Roach was a gift, so neither Geralt or Jaskier were willing to see her go. Roach was perfectly safe, stabled for the night and for the foreseeable future until Geralt received the contract’s money.
Jaskier knew something was wrong when Geralt halted in his steps. The witcher never stopped without reason.
Then, in a whisper, Geralt said, “Mob. 23 of them.” Another sniff in the air. “Torches.”
“Shit.”
Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s forearm. He instructed, “Follow me.” So Jaskier did. The witcher led him into the woods. The twilight was gone, only accustomed to darkness and the stars. The moon was bright, but not enough that a person could see yard upon yards away.
They were stationed behind a fallen tree. Jaskier could see small specks of the torches– the fire bright in the dark. Geralt could see much more. He could also hear their plans. Geralt cursed when he heard the leader of the mob mention splitting up and searching the woods. He tugged on Jaskier’s side, then started to move towards the town.
Geralt was much lighter on his feet than Jaskier was. The bard was a good travel companion and could be quiet in the snow, but the woods were tricky. Jaskier couldn’t help but step on something that would cause sound. They had managed to get close to the town. Geralt could hear the heartbeats of only a few inside.
Geralt said, “I’ll get our bags from the inn, you get Roach.”
“Alrighty.”
Jaskier and Geralt walked into the town together, then they split apart. Jaskier went to the stables. He found Roach there, patiently waiting as if nothing had gone wrong. Jaskier brushed her mane before leading her out into the darkness. He made sure to stay at the perimeter of the town in hopes of not being caught by someone that was still residing within it.
A short while later, Geralt found them. He piled on the saddlebag first, then added as much as he could. Jaskier took his lute and carried his satchel. They didn’t have time to fasten things to Roach securely. Jaskier was about to start walking when Geralt took the lute. Jaskier tried to not let the confusion show on his face.
“What are you doing?” hissed the bard, voice quiet.
Geralt ordered, “Get on Roach.”
Jaskier didn’t disobey. He climbed onto Roach, his satchel hanging off of his body weirdly. He asked, “What are you doing?”
Geralt led Roach onto the opposite road– the one leading away from both towns they were stuck in between. He said, “We won’t be paid if there’s a mob. We need to leave quickly. I’ll run, Roach will take you ahead.”
With that, Geralt whistled. Roach took off into the darkness with Jaskier as her rider. Jaskeir thought maybe Geralt overestimated his running speed, but with a flash a white glob was next to Roach, keeping pace no problem. It was almost unfair, though Jaskier did like his human body. He didn’t have to worry about the things others worried about.
They made it far enough that Geralt decided to set up camp. They went off on the side of the road, as they usually did when camping. Sometimes when the contract looked easy, they would stay a night or two outside of a particularly large and loud city. Jaskier used to complain about it, but he knew better now. Geralt’s senses were even greater than a normal witcher’s.
Jaskier felt a bit useless as he put out their bedrolls. He couldn’t see well in the dark, which made Geralt the one getting Roach ready for rest and preparing. The witcher didn’t complain. He simply did the nightly chores before laying down next to Jaskier on their conjoined bedrolls. Jaskier’s was slightly fluffier and larger even though Geralt was the one who did most of the heavy lifting.
“We’re taking baths tomorrow, Geralt,” said the bard. He had changed out of his muddy clothes, but they’d need to be thoroughly washed.
“Hmm.”
“I have a grapefruit oil from Triss. It smells nice enough, but I like my normal stuff more.”
Geralt laid his head along Jaskier’s arm. “The grapefruit is more potent.”
“Oh, so I should use less of it.”
“Hmm.”
After a beat, Jaskier murmured, “We’ll go back for the contract money tomorrow.”
“We won’t,” stated Geralt. The bard wanted to fight, but exhaustion took him. “Sleep.”
Jaskier grumbled before settling into Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt hummed softly before taking a deep breath. Jaskier’s heartbeat slowed just slightly, his nerves dissipating at the thought of rest. Geralt closed his eyes, yet his ears listened for any movement around them. There weren’t any human heartbeats near, but the mob could still be out looking for them. He took in one final breath before letting himself sigh into slumber.