It doesn't take long to find the wolf.
"Look," Jaskier says, holding his hands up in surrender as he slowly approaches it. "I'm just trying to help you. It's the least I can do for you saving those people, but honestly, I can't do much for you if you bite my hands off."
The wolf, which stands nearly half Jaskier's height and is bleeding heavily where the crossbow bolt is sticking out of its leg, bares its teeth and snarls at him.
"Oh, knock it off," Jaskier grumbles irritably. "I've been growled at plenty; you don't scare me." Jaskier takes another slow step closer to it. "I'm not going to hurt you." It growls and backs up again, whining when it puts pressure on its injured paw.
Jaskier stops, putting his hands on his hips and looking around the forest. They're in a sort of clearing, far enough from the road that nobody will find Jaskier's body if the wolf decides to eat him. Which isn't the end of the world, he supposes, since the only thing that will miss him is Buttercup.
He turns back to the wolf and sighs. "Come on," he says, holding out his hand. "You're going to bleed out if you don't let me help you, and I know you're smarter than that."
The wolf rumbles, baring sharp teeth that could easily tear Jaskier apart. Its ears flick flat back against its head, and it barks at him, sharp and low.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Jaskier mutters. The wolf responds with another low growl, but it doesn't sound quite as enthusiastic this time around.
Jaskier eyes it carefully, then shuffles off his travel pack and digs around inside until he finds some dried venison he picked up a while back. The wolf's ears prick up at the scent.
"Aha," Jaskier says, shuffling forward and holding out the venison. "Hungry?" He's only a few feet away from the wolf at this point, and even though he knows he should be petrified, he's mostly just relieved that the wolf is okay.
It stares at him uncertainly for a little while, and eventually Jaskier's legs start to cramp up. He sets his pack down on the forest floor, tugs out his kit of bandages and sutures, then sits cross-legged on top of the pack to protect himself from the snow. The wolf watches him warily but doesn't move. Several minutes go by, and eventually Jaskier starts to hum.
The wolf's ears immediately flick toward him. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Jaskier says. It makes a sound that's almost a huff, and Jaskier laughs. "If I sing for you, will you let me help you?"
He starts into a silly song about flowers that he'd written a few weeks prior – nothing special, but the melody is soft and soothing. The wolf tilts its head to the side, studying Jaskier with an unusual intensity. The uncomfortable, familiar feeling surfaces again, but Jaskier ignores it.
The wolf takes a careful step forward, limping on its injured paw, and Jaskier sits as still as he can while continuing to sing. It moves closer, and by the time Jaskier's at the second verse, it's sitting close enough for him to reach out and touch it.
Up close, Jaskier can see that the wolf is male, and he's clearly been in some battles. There are scars across his muzzle and one of his ears has a piece missing, making him look oddly asymmetrical. His amber eyes are wide and serious as he studies Jaskier.
"Good boy," Jaskier murmurs, holding out the venison. The wolf sniffs at it and then slowly, carefully accepts the food. "There you go." The wolf devours the venison within seconds and then, to Jaskier's surprise, moves right up to him, sniffing him and nosing at his hands. "Oh, so now you want to be friends," Jaskier says, laughing. "I don't have anything else. Let me look at your leg first, then I'll go find us something to eat."
To his surprise, the wolf headbutts him gently, then lays down in front of him, legs outstretched. "Why aren't you afraid of me?" Jaskier murmurs, slowly moving his hand to the wolf's head and running gentle fingers through his fur. "Actually, the better question is, why aren't I afraid of you?"
The wolf whines. "Hm, you're right," Jaskier says, moving his hand down through the wolf's fur until he's touching right above the crossbow bolt. "I've dealt with scarier. I had a friend for a while that growled worse than you, and I wasn't scared of him, either; he'd never hurt anyone. Well, not humans, anyways, unless they deserved it – like those three, on the road. Mostly he hunted monsters. I once saw him take down a wyvern…"
Jaskier keeps talking, keeping his voice low and soft, and breathes a sigh of relief when the wolf slowly relaxes under his touch. His fingers are close enough to the crossbow bolt that he can feel the blood now, sticky under his fingers, and he fumbles around in his pack for a bandage with his other hand.
"Now, don't you dare bite me," he cautions, staring into the wolf's amber eyes. "Ready?" To his surprise, the wolf responds with a soft woof. Jaskier takes a deep breath, sends a quiet prayer to Melitele, and then pulls the crossbow bolt out in one swift motion.
The wolf whines in pain but stays surprisingly still. Jaskier quickly tosses the bolt aside and presses the bandage to the wound, wrapping it around the wolf's leg and holding it tight to stem the bleeding.
"Shhh," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to stroke the wolf's head. "You're all right. Good boy." He runs his fingers through the soft fur, making quiet, soothing noises, and after a minute he peels the bandage back to inspect the damage. "Well, I don't think I can suture it," he says, happy to see that the bleeding has slowed. "But it should heal just fine if I bandage it up. You're being very brave. If I'd been shot with a crossbow – well, I was one time, and it wasn't pretty. First of all, Geralt was pissed, which is really rich, coming from him." Jaskier tugs another bandage from the pack and slowly starts to wrap it around the first. "He's an idiot."
The wolf makes a puzzled sound and Jaskier sighs. "He is," he insists. "Always charging headfirst into things without thinking about how much it scares other people. And then the one time I tried to help him, he yelled at me, then wouldn't talk to me for a week. This, after I spent what, six years stitching him up and bandaging his wounds, he couldn't just say thank you Jaskier, you're so helpful, what would I do without a lovely friend like you in my travels?"
The wolf tilts his head and makes a noise that almost sounds apologetic, and Jaskier laughs. Then he ties off the bandage and inspects his handiwork.
"Better?" The wolf sniffs at the bandage and then, to Jaskier's surprise, makes a pleased sound and licks his hand. "You're welcome."
They sit in silence for a bit, and Jaskier keeps running his fingers through the soft fur behind the wolf's ears. As the sun starts to dip down in the sky, the wind picks up, biting through Jaskier's cloak and dragging tiny flakes of snow down from the sky.
"Bollocks," Jaskier mutters, staring up at the white specks drifting down around them. He sighs, looking down at the wolf, who has shifted forward and nearly has his head in Jaskier's lap. "I could be sleeping in a real bed right now, you know," Jaskier comments. The wolf huffs. "And eating a warm meal."
Jaskier hesitates, looking back toward the path to town. Technically, his debt is repaid. The wolf is safe. He could leave now and walk to the inn, take a hot bath, have some drinks, play a few songs, and sleep on a mattress instead of the ground.
As if he knows what Jaskier is thinking, the wolf whines, low and sad. "Oh, don't look at me like that," Jaskier says, frowning as the wolf stares up at him. "You'll be just fine out here in the cold, whereas I will freeze to death in the middle of a forest with nobody to find my body. It would be tragic."
He doesn't mention that he has a tent in his pack, and a bedroll, and that he's spent the better part of the last six months sleeping outdoors, even when the night air is so cold that his eyelashes freeze together.
The wolf slowly pushes himself to his feet, limping away from Jaskier. For a second, Jaskier thinks he's leaving, but when he approaches the rock face nearby, he turns back and looks at Jaskier expectantly. Jaskier looks back one last time at the path to the road, then sighs and stands, packing up his things and following the wolf.
There's a cave in the side of the cliff. The entrance is small enough to block out most of the wind and snow, and it's just barely big enough to fit the two of them. "This is cozy," Jaskier comments, squeezing himself in and looking around. "Not nearly as nice as silk sheets, but I suppose it will have to do. Can't leave you out here with an injured leg, can I?"
The wolf sits down on his haunches, looking very pleased with itself, while Jaskier digs in his pack and gets out his bedroll and blanket. There's not enough room to light a fire, but once he's down to his sleep shirt and trousers and under the furs, it's warm enough to be tolerable.
As soon as Jaskier settles down, the wolf moves to the entrance of the cave, turning several times as best he can with his injured leg. Eventually he plops down on the ground with his back to Jaskier, tucking his tail around him and staring out into the night.
"You'd better not eat me while I'm sleeping," Jaskier mutters, giving the wolf's back a stern look. There's a quiet rumble that almost sounds like an agreement, and Jaskier yawns, cuddling deeper into his furs.
It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep, protected by the wolf and listening to the sound of the wind.