Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri leave the Stygga castle, but it doesn't leave them.
Chapter III
They left the Stygga castle behind, but it seemed it never really left them. Those accursed walls and the massacre they witnessed followed them on their way - in comments half uttered to the companions who were no longer there, in that urge to turn back only to see empty saddles. Three loose horses trotted freely behind as Geralt would not leave the steeds they got in Toussaint at the mercy of whoever or whatever was going to come and dwell in the castle.
Those first days of their journey passed in a slumber. None of them truly knew where to go, except as far away as possible. The lands seemed hardly habited and even if they were, they didn't want to push their luck and accidentally run across someone who could have had second thoughts about letting them go. For a while they kept off the roads, making frequent stops and camping where no one could easily spot them. Yennefer tired easily and Geralt was in no shape for fighting unless there was really no other way, so they kept low profile.
Yennefer left Stygga clad in her half torn dress and Milva's brown cloak. Geralt knew she hated it, riding on a borrowed horse, wearing spare clothes of his dead friend. She never said a word about it, a consideration on her part he found new. The only thing she had that was truly her own was her obsidian star, one they had spent half a day searching for before leaving. The witcher knew Yennefer was unused to being dependent in any way on someone else, even on him, and how hard it was for her to retain from commenting on that. He was aware that if she truly wanted, she was soon well enough to conjure a portal and go straight wherever she wished to. Yet she stayed and bore with the slow pace of their riding, determined by Geralt's healing ribs.
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Dandelion was right. They could always do with money.
Geralt kept the sum his friend had given him, along with what he had taken from Toussaint, but his purse could only stretch so far, therefore he sold the spare horses in the first town big enough to offer decent money for them. It wasn't nowhere near a city that would have a bank agency for Yennefer to pick her funds, but there was a marketplace and merchants willing to trade. Geralt kept only what they could use on their way, Ciri picked a few belongings from Angouleme's things and then she and Yennefer sold the rest while the witcher dealt with the horses. Few paid attention to them, so they decided to spend a night in an inn.
Once they filled their stomachs with a proper meal and settled in a rented room, their horses stocked in a dry stable for the first time in weeks, Geralt sneaked out. He had never, ever bought clothes for Yennefer. In any other situation he would have laughed and dismissed the very thought. He was but a simple witcher and he never tried to follow or understand fashion trends of the nobility or the mages, the latter being often way too extravagant for his taste. Yet as Yennefer and Ciri enjoyed their long overdue bath in the inn, he ventured back to the market. There wasn't much to choose from, but in the end he picked a black woolen skirt, the whitest linen shirt he found and a pair of leather gloves. He didn't find a cloak or a coat except one fancy piece that stood out among others, but which would not provide any warmth.
In any other circumstances he knew Yennefer wouldn't have even looked at the clothes he brought her, fitting for a poor merchant's wife at best. Certainly not for a sorceress. As it was, she sent him a radiant smile he had not seen in a while and kissed him. Seeing that, Ciri offered to buy provisions for their way and slipped from the room they were sharing, making it known she wouldn't be back till dusk.
They took advantage of every given minute, taking pleasure in the simplest things and enjoying them anew.
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Days passed as they rode on. The witcher healed save for the lingering sense of fatigue, which seemed unable to leave him. He felt fine otherwise, safer now that he knew he would be able to stand between his ladies and whatever danger they might encounter.
Yennefer rode along Ciri wherever she wished to go without a word of comment on her next chosen place. With a bit of magic she adjusted the clothes Geralt bought for her and finally looked more like her usual self, the black gloves covering her disfigured fingers. They needed to be properly reset if they were to regain full mobility, but there was little to be done on the way. Geralt tried to address the matter on a few occasions when Yennefer couldn't do something and cursed in frustration, but she would only brisk him away till he dropped the subject. She would do something about it once she had the assistance of someone she could trust, that was all she said. The witcher didn't push.
They rode on, the shadow cast by the Stygga castle still looming over them. Or perhaps it was so that a part of them never truly left that place.
The sorceress was silent. The witcher was tired. And so they followed the ashen-haired girl and it seemed there was no force capable of tearing them apart again. Until Yennefer said she was leaving.
I'm sorry, I completely forgot I'm posting this story here too. Seems I'm two chapters behind, so I'm posting both.