He could just imagine Lambert bitching as the winter dragged on. It was cold, colder than it had been in years. And even if somewhere, Lambert was under ten blankets, drunk off his ass and complaining, Eskel couldn't have been happier.

The longer it was cold, the longer he could stay.

He still wasn't sure what the fuck he was going to do when spring came. He really should go back to Kaer Morhen first, and then, like always head back out on to the Path. There were always monsters to kill. It's what he was made to do.

But he was so comfortable here. A part of him never wanted to leave. Several parts of him, in fact.

Sometimes, he almost expected to start getting restless. He usually did by this point in the winter. Kaer Morhen was big, but it would start to feel small and claustrophobic. Lambert might be the one bitching, but he'd be the one training until everything hurt and he was exhausted. Vesemir used to just shake his head and mutter something about being young.

Not that anyone ought to call Eskel young, but compared to Vesemir...

Dead. After all those centuries, after all those fights and other Witchers he outlived, to just be snuffed out by one of those fucking Red Rider bastards...the grief still burned in his chest.

It was easier to not think about it when Maya was here, puttering around, shaking her ass at him when he got sulky. But she was gone, one of the neighbors having dug his way through the snow to fetch her. His wife was having a baby, and it wasn't going well.

Eskel would have gone with her, if just to make sure she was safe, but the farmer recoiled when he saw him.

He forgot when he was with Maya. She looked at him, touched his face and she liked it, but the farmer reminded him. He was tall, big, intimidating. He'd be that no matter what, whether his swords were strapped to his back or not. But he also had eyes like a lynx and his face was disfigured.

It had been so nice to forget about that for a while.

So she was gone, left him here alone. He'd puttered out to the stable, watched Scorpion nuzzle Maya's grey mare, felt the foal kicking in the mare's distended belly. He wasn't sure the stallion would even go with him when it was time to leave.

That horse was clearly in love. He wasn't the only one.

Now he'd kicked off his boots again and was sitting by the fire. He had one of Maya's books opened in his lap, but he couldn't concentrate on it. It was interesting, traditional herbalism, different than what he knew and he wondered if he could use it to augment his potions. But he couldn't focus.

Eskel just wanted her to come home so he could bury his face in her neck and feel whole for a little while. There was so little time left, even if everything outside was still white. He didn't want to waste any of it.

Home. It really did feel like home.

He must have drifted off, daydreaming about how he would get her into the bed when she got back and how he'd keep her in there until neither of them could walk when the door opened and closed, sending a mist of damp air into the room.

He turned around just as Maya threw her cloak to the floor. Her dress was covered in blood. Her hands were stained; there were even spatters on her face. She looked like he did sometimes, after a particularly brutal fight. Her face was white.

"What happened?" he asked, getting out of the chair and coming towards her. By now, his thigh was good as new and he moved easy.

"They died." Maya swallowed. "Both of them. There was nothing I could do."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. He was more comfortable with her now. It was easier to talk to her, like he talked to his brothers. He took her hand, blood didn't bother him.

"Snow's melting too," she said, looking at the hand he wasn't holding, rubbing her thumb against her fingers, the sticky blood making her skin catch. "Hopefully we can both leave before they get the Witch Hunters." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

Eskel was confused, he furrowed his brow. "For what?"

"They always want you around when you can help. You know, when I could help fevers and injuries. Just like when the ealderman hired you to clear out the cemetery. But if something goes wrong, someone dies even if it's not my fault? The first thing they do is start screaming witch and call the hunters." She made a face. "If the weather holds, you can leave in a few days and get out of here before they come after me." She shrugged. "Maybe I'll get lucky and Storm will be able to manage even with the foal in her belly, and we can get out before they come. If not?" She shook her head. "I've been running from them a long time. I guess they were bound to catch up with me eventually."

Eskel was flabbergasted and not a little confused. What the hell would Witch Hunters want with an herbalist? Besides, did she actually think he'd just walk out and let those bastards come in here and hurt her? She didn't know him very well, after all.

"I'm not just going to let that happen."

Maya looked away from him, but didn't pull her hand away. "Aren't Witchers supposed to be neutral?"

He laughed. "That's a good story. It's bullshit too. You can't be neutral. No one is ever neutral about anything."

"I can't drag you into this," she said. She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. Her eyes were red. "But it was wonderful while it lasted."

Eskel felt his lips thin, he shook his head. "No, I'm not letting this happen."

She dropped his hand and stepped closer to the fireplace, wrapping her arms around herself. Her back was to him.

"I don't know what you think you can do. I'll just go; I've managed before. I can do it again."

"Bullshit." Eskel grabbed her shoulder. "I don't know why they're hunting you. Doesn't matter. As soon as the weather breaks, we're leaving together. All of us, horses-to-be included." He turned her around to face him. Until now, he'd been content to just let her have her way. Hell, none of this would have happened otherwise. But if there were Witch Hunters coming, he was going to stop them. "And if they get here first, I'll kill them."

"Eskel." She said his name with frustration and with relief. He'd spent enough time with her now that he felt like he understood her a little. She'd been on her own for a long time. At least he always had the others; even now he knew Geralt or Lambert would go through the fires of hell for him.

She didn't have anyone, not until he fell into her door. She wasn't getting rid of him this easily. Eskel usually didn't involve himself. But he was fucking damned if he would walk away this time.

He grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her hard.

"You saved my life," he said, "In more ways than one. It's time I returned the favor."

She looked like she might protest, but then reconsidered. "Where could we go?"

He smiled on the unscarred side of his mouth. "To Kaer Morhen. Fucking Geralt's been bringing women there for decades. My turn."


It took a while, but he convinced her to let him help her wash the blood off. She heated the water over the fire and he needled her until she told him what happened.

The baby was too early, the mother was too young. Something had shifted, twisted inside of her and the baby was already gone, dead inside her mother before Maya even got there. She tried to ease the birthing, save the mother but she fought her, even as the baby was poisoning her.

The farmer had begged her to try. Anything to save his young wife, so she'd done the only thing she could. She tried to cut the baby out. But it was far too late. The baby had been dead so long and the mother was septic. Not even magic could have spared her. All Maya could do was sew her up and give her something to ease the pain and her passing.

The farmer wailed. He tore at himself, punched a hole through the wall. And then came the accusations, the threats. Maya fled, but she knew it was only a matter of time before his words fell of the wrong ears.

These days, no one was safe, not even with Radovid dead and the war winding down. The fucking were everywhere, self righteous bastards. Eskel just wished they fought actual evil, not people just trying to survive.

Sure, there were bastard mages and sorceresses were fucking dangerous, but what was worse? Magic or Ghouls or the Catriona? Fuck, their priorities sucked.

He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to get Maya out of those bloody rags so she could stop thinking about it too. They either would come or they wouldn't. Either way, as soon as the snow started to melt, he was taking her, and they were leaving.

He undressed her as she just stood there like a ragdoll. She was just limp. He was actually afraid to just put her in the water, that she'd just flop down and drown when he wasn't looking. So he undressed himself and dragged her in with him, letting her used him as a backrest.

His arms held her up. Her face lay quietly against his chest, eyes closed. The water was warm, soothing even and under different circumstances, it would have been impossible to keep his hands off her. But she seemed so sad, defeated. He just held her tightly. His chest ached inside.

"Tell me a story," she said softly. He almost couldn't hear her.

"About what?"

"I don't care; I just want it to have a happy ending."

He made a noise, too bitter to be a laugh. "Don't know many of those." He considered for a moment. As much as it irritated him, the only happy ending he knew was in White Orchard, where a witcher and a sorceress were playing house after beating the crap out of each other for two decades.

But they were happy, even if he didn't trust Yen further than he could throw her. He actually had the ballad memorized. Stupid witcher memory.

"I can't believe I'm going to do do this; fucking poetry."

Maya actually laughed, if a bit sadly. He'd do it, just to make sure she did that again. He wouldn't sing though. No one wanted that.

"These scars long have yearned for your tender caress.

To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.

Rend my heart open, then your love profess.

A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone.

The wolf I will follow into the storm.

To find your heart, its passion displaced.

By ire ever growing, hardening into stone.

Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace.

I know not if fate would have us live as one.

Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound.

The wish I whispered, when it all began.

Did it forge a love you might never have found?

You flee my dream come the morning.

Your scent – berries tart, lilac sweet.

To dream of raven locks entwisted stormy.

Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep."

She was quiet for a while and he felt like an idiot. But then she nuzzled her face against him.

"Was it really like that?"

Eskel shrugged. "Not really. They fight all the time, even now. But I guess it makes then happy anyway."

"It just sounds so romantic," she said. "I've heard it before, but I liked it better when you did it."

"I don't know," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I like this better."

Maya turned her face up to look at him. He tilted her back so he could kiss her gently. He didn't really have any experience with this. But he knew that he wanted to try to be happy too. He liked her, not like that thing Geralt and Yen had. They respected each other, sure, and loved and lusted and all that, but sometimes, they couldn't stand each other.

That seemed like a pain in the ass.

But he liked Maya. He wanted to be around her. It was fucking crazy and a terrible idea but he was fucked if he wasn't going to hang on to it as long as he could anyway. If he'd learned anything from Vesemir's death, it was that he wasn't immortal, no matter how many years passed.

Witchers didn't die in their beds.

"Much better," he repeated and kissed her again before tucking her back under his chin.

They soaked in the water until it went cold and Maya fell asleep. Eskel carried her across the room and tucked her into the bed, feeding the fire until it was almost too hot before he crawled under the covers with her. He curled himself around her and she made a contented little noise in her sleep.