Chapter 3: Oh Witcher & the Bard

Geralt lunged forward to catch Ciri the moment he saw her eyes roll back. Arm behind her back, he gently laid her down on the grass, away from where the blood of the Cemetaur stained the greenery. "What's wrong with her? Is she injured?" Jaskier asked, leaning over and gently tapping Ciri's face.

Golden eyes met the Bard's, and for the moment he was grateful he had his Dandelion back by his side, though he would never admit it out loud. They had made up in the Inn while Ciri was distracted eating, and Geralt had (against his better judgement) apologized for the cruel words he had spoken to the Bard. As he looked back down at the girl, he was at a loss. "She was scared, it may have been too much for her," he answered.

"And what was with that scream? Sounded like a Banshee!" A shudder shook the Bard's shoulder as his ears still rang from the horrible sound.

They both looked down at the girl, her face relaxed from being blissfully unconscious. "Inherited from her mother. She has powers, though the extent of them, I do not know."

"Thus the need to find Yennefer," Jaskier mused. "Should we try to wake her?"

Geralt stared down at the pale child. He had hardly spoken to her since he'd found her in the woods, and while he knew she had been through great tragedy, he was beginning to realize just how drastic her world had changed. She had no parents, her grandparents had died, she lost her home and everything she'd known. Now she was to travel with a strange man and his bard, discovered her powers, and was thrust into a world of monsters and people trying to kill her. An emotion he wasn't used to getting struck him hard; guilt.

Shaking his head, he scooped her up gently into his arms. "No," he replied to Jaskier. They walked back to where the horses were tied. The Bard was ecstatic to not have to ride his pony, as he mounted Ciri's mare and tied his pony to the saddle horn. Geralt climbed onto his trusted Roach, reins in one hand, while the other held on tight to the passed out girl in his arms. He tried not to jostle her around too much, as he turned Roach back in the direction of the town, and they began their decent down the mountainside.

It took until dark to reach the Stronghold, the sun having finally set below the horizon as they approached the gates. One of the guards was waiting for them, looking at them with a curious expression. "Is it dead, Witcher?" the guard asked, his gaze then shifting down to look at Ciri. "Is she injured?"

"It's dead," Geralt replied, "and she is fine." He lifted his free hand and caught the coin purse that the guard threw at him.

"Payment as due," the guard said, before returning to his post.

Geralt and Jaskier rode back to the Inn, where they both dismounted. Jaskier grabbed the three sets of reins, while Geralt kept Ciri tucked against his chest. His protectiveness over the girl was strong, and seemed to only be growing. Destiny it seemed, was determined to make sure that he would never have the strength to leave this girl. "Go on it for the night and get her comfortable," Jaskier smiled softly. "I'll see you in the morning."

Geralt grunted in response, as he turned into the Inn and walked back up to their room from last night. He went to place Ciri in the bed, but noticed that there was blood on her dress from the Cemetaur. Brows furrowing as he debated what to do, he finally shrugged and carefully removed her outer dress, before sliding her under the covers.

A quiet knock sounded on the door before Jaskier stuck his head in. "Anything I could grab for her before I call it a night?"

Geralt looked at the dirty torn dress in his hands, and decided what to spend the money earned from killing the creature on. "Toss this, and purchase two new ones in this size, and any other small items she may need." After a moment, he added: "And grab a small weapon, whatever they have available."

He chucked the coin purse at the Bard, along with the wrecked dress. Jaskier caught it with a nod, and the door clicked as he departed.

Moving over to the fireplace, Geralt quickly built up a fire to bring some warmth to the chilly room. Reaching up, he removed his sword, and his outer layer before sitting on the floor against the wall. His mind wandered to recent events, and he wondered what was going to happen going forwards. No longer did he travel in solitude. Now, he had his bard back, and his child-of-surprise who was also a girl. His life had gotten way more complicated as of late, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

While he felt a strong pull to the Princess, he also missed the life of just him and his horse. Where no one depended on him, and he could live without having to worry about others. Yet, Jaskier brought humour and light to his dark, brutal days, and now this child was worming her way into his stone-cold heart as well. Plus, then there was Yennefer…

Running a hand through his white hair, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Normally he would be drowning in ale and spending his evening with a whore, but he could not bring himself to leave the girl alone. It felt like he would be offering her up as a sacrifice to whatever danger was lurking. It was his job to protect her, and that required him always being near her.

Allowing himself to relax, Geralt drifted off into a light-sleep, his sword laying under his hand. Always ready for any potential threats.