In the short time that Jaskier had been inside, things outside have gone from bad to objectively worse. The rain has traded out for clumping snowflakes, the ground now littered with thin patches of snow and absolute slush surrounding still unfrozen puddles. He can't tell what time of day it is exactly, he just knows that there's just enough light that he doesn't run headlong into low lying branches and that's good enough but he would feel a little more grateful if he wasn't currently jumping roots and slipping through sopping leaf litter being chased by a homicidal maniac with the temperament of an angry bear.
Because panic is a great equalizer in the minds of men, Jaskier had taken no thought in where he was going, and has no plans other than to get away. He almost trips when he comes to the horrifying realization that the man could have just as well decided to try and follow the children's tracks instead, but the distant rustling of snow-laden branches and the snapping of twigs under heavy feet is all the assurance he needs that he's is still the target here.
There is a short period of time where Jaskier loses himself, he's somewhat aware that he's still running but his view has narrowed to what's directly in front of him. The tree trunks becomes a blur in his peripheral vision, the spaces between the trees ahead darkening as if he's entering a tunnel. He can hear himself gasping for air, but he can't feel the pain of his injuries, nor the strain on his muscles. Just the shock of his feet hitting the ground.
He has no time to react then, as his feet suddenly meet air and he's toppling straight into the frigid water of a creek. The shock of the cold water grinds everything to a halt, and he finds himself sitting half submerged in the frozen current stuttering out breaths around cold restricted lungs. The trees seem to grow taller around him, rising towards darkening skies infinitely. It's dizzying, so Jaskier screws his eyes shut, but the action makes it worse. He curls forward in the water, as if making himself smaller will somehow solve all of his problems, which brings to light another issue that up to this point he had been unaware of.
His side flares intensely, and it feels as though the pain spreads out of it like a flame across oil covered ground. Jaskier forces down a scream, clamping his mouth over his forearm and biting into the material of his sleeve with the strangled moan as his free hand hovers trembling over the wound he's too afraid to look at.
To say that Geralt is mildly annoyed would be an understatement.
After reuniting with Jaskier, and all that he had done to help get Ciri to safety, he was making an effort to do better. Which is why he had agreed to meet with him one more time before returning to Kaer Morhen for the rest of the season. They had already met and parted a few times since, but the new monsters meant he was far more hesitant to have Jaskier nearby as often. He couldn't deal with the extra distraction.
So in exchange he would try and remember as much about his battles as possible and pass them along. This benefited him as well, because Jaskier had taken to compiling information on them in song. Which could be very annoying but it meant that those songs would travel, and the information would reach those that needed it. Books could only go so far, and only to so many people, but music is a far more universal language. One that, he begrudgingly admits, Jaskier speaks very well.
But now he's wasting Geralt's time.
He's been stationed at the Inn for two days now, and in light of the weather he could understand a slight delay, but this level of tardiness from Jaskier was borderline alarming. It wasn't like him at all. Especially in part to the fact that he was usually insistent on being early to social matters because as he put it "It makes good impressions on gold lined pockets, my dear Witcher."
He wishes this was one of those times, but of course he couldn't be so lucky, and now he's beginning to run low on coin. Which is how he finds himself in front of the notice board pulling a contract to look into disappearances to the south of town. Not only is it close, but it also gives him the opportunity to head Jaskier off should he still be on the path.
The contract makes no mention of what could be causing the disappearances, so whatever it is; it's not large or loud enough to be noticed. Maybe Nekkers, or something else smaller that likes to make meals of people. Should be easy enough. He can be out and back again before the end of the day.
Geralt makes sure to leave word with the innkeeper should Jaskier miraculously miss him while he's gone, then promptly makes his way out to the stables to retrieve Roach. Normally he would be concerned about her slipping a shoe with the road being so muddy, but sometime during the day the rain had turned to snow, and now the ground was freezing the fresh coat into something more walk-able. That and the area in question really isn't too far out of town, at least by horse.
He slips Roach a piece of fruit and gives her a quick pat.
"Better than nothing I suppose. I know you'd prefer to stay in here but needs must. I'll make sure Jaskier pays you back for the trouble."
Roach snorts in reply, and he takes that to mean "good enough" so he saddles her up, and leads her out of town, deciding to hold off on riding until the road is a little less muddled by foot traffic, which doesn't take long fortunately.
They're partway into a thickly forested area, about a half mile out of the village where the ground is surprisingly dry due to the overhead limbs of large fir trees blocking the worst of the weather. Geralt swings himself up on the saddle and kicks Roach into a light canter, on alert the further in they go. The smaller the creature, the trickier they could be, and he's not in the mood for an ambush today.
He hears the rustling in the foliage up ahead, and slows Roach to a near stop, making a slow grab for one of the swords on his back, then stops dumbfounded when a small child appears, covered in mud, shivering and clutching a familiar pendant to their chest.
Jaskier stays in the creek longer than he would like, but the pain had put a hard stop on his plans of escape. As sits staring hard into the water flowing around him, sweat slipping down across his nose and dropping into the darkness of the pool, an idea starts to form. He slowly straightens up, and turns to look back where he can clearly see his tracks, and the dark lines of mud cutting through the snow where he'd slipped down the bank, then at the unmarred snow on the other side. He forces himself to get up, moving with more haste when a bird is disturbed out of it's tree close enough to signal he doesn't have much time.
He scrambles partway up the next bank with gritted teeth, then quickly backtracks the the creek once he's over the small ledge. Once he's back in the water, he wades up stream as long as he can stand to be in the water, then finds a rocky patch and returns back to the forest, this time back in the direction of the house, and hopefully, the road. He can only hope now that his plan works, and he can buy himself enough time and distance to get to safety.
AN: Apologies for the short chapter, I'm playing the "avoid cliffhangers" game, and something fairly major is coming up, which I think would fit nicely into the next chapter instead. Things will be ramping up a lot more too, Geralt is officially getting pulled into the mix. Also a bit of feral! and traumatized! Jaskier coming up too so don't give up on me yet!