They had started moving again very early the next morning, when it was still completely dark. But it had stopped snowing for the moment, though the temperatures had dropped some more and an icy wind was harshly cutting into their skin where it was not protected by layers of clothing.

Jaskier had distracted Ciri for most of the morning with some light chatter complemented by (more or less) amusing tales from his times at court or Oxenfurt while she kept her arms wrapped around his waist and rested against his back when the hours of riding became longer and longer. In the afternoon, the wind had gotten so bad that their voices didn't really carry anymore and Jaskier had finally stopped talking. After an hour or so of silence, Yennefer looked up at his slightly slumped figure with a small frown.

"Jaskier?"

No response.

"Jaskier! – Bard!" She stepped in front of Roach and Geralt pulled back on the reigns, startled from his almost meditative trot at her side.

"Shit…" When she touched the bard's leg in a slight panic, he finally lifted his head to look at her. Tears had to have leaked from his eyes at some point because they were frozen around his lashes. He was paler than she had ever seen a human be.

"Geralt! We need to find some shelter!" she shouted towards the witcher, who nodded towards an area somewhere to their right after only the briefest hesitation.

Another few hundred meters brought them to some caves where Geralt immediately started a fire again. When Yennefer had brought Ciri in and hurried back to help Jaskier down from the horse next, he simply collapsed against her.

"Geralt!"

At her panicked call, the witcher had quickly joined them and wordlessly carried Jaskier into the caves. Carefully placing him down, he gently brushed some snow from the man's face before he used his hands to warm up the frozen skin around his eyes.

"Shit…" This time it was Geralt who uttered the sentiment. "I knew it was cold, that's why I had Ciri sit behind him, but I didn't think it was this cold."

"He's not even shivering anymore," Yennefer observed quietly. "That's not good."

"Why is he unconscious?" Ciri's small voice from somewhere behind them.

Without replying anything, Geralt simply started to strip before carefully undressing the still unresponsive bard as well. Lying down behind him and wrapping his arms around the human, he threw Yennefer a short glance. "Get some furs from my roll."

She replied with a small nod and covered both men with the soft material only a few minutes later.

After about half an hour, the bard finally started shivering again.

"Okay, that's good. You're doing great, Jaskier." If Geralt felt embarrassed by his nervous commentary, he didn't show it. "Yen. Make some tea with the herbs in my bag. And give some to Ciri as well."

Another few minutes later, Jaskier finally opened his eyes again.

"Uh… What's going on, guys?" He sounded confused and started moving slightly in Geralt's still tight embrace.

"Don't move." Geralt's voice grumbled behind him. "You almost froze to death."

"My… face hurts," was all the human replied to that.

"You have some frostbite, but it's gonna be fine. Don't touch it."

Yennefer brought a steaming cup of tea, so Geralt slowly sat them both up.

He eyed the bard critically. "Okay…?"

A quick nod. "Yes. Thank you..."

He accepted the tea with a grateful nod, careful not to spill anything despite the tremor in his hands.

"Can we… How long was I out?"

"Not long. But it's almost night. We'll rest here until tomorrow." He waited until Jaskier had taken a few swallows. "How's your hand?"

A small nod. "Fine." He felt the bard's gaze resting on him. "I'm fine, Geralt. Stop looking so… unduly worried. – How's Ciri?"

"She's cold, but she's alright. Your body protected her from the wind and ice." Disdain was clear in his tone. Then, much more softly: "I'm sorry, Jaskier. I should have known how dangerous this weather would be for a human. Even for an adult. I didn't… think. It's been a long couple of months…"

Despite everything, Jaskier managed a small smile. "It's alright, Geralt. You're not–" He didn't finish whatever he'd been about to say. "It's alright," he finally just repeated.

Yennefer now crouched down next to them.

"It's not alright, you brave, stupid bard. You very nearly died today. And you're still not over that infection. Let me see your hand again."

Jaskier hesitated briefly, but then just extended his arm and allowed the mage to unravel the bandage that was stained reddish-brown in a couple of places.

She carefully examined the wounds again before applying the rest of Geralt's diluted potion.

"It looks better," she commented calmly, "but we need to keep an eye on it. – Can you feel all of this normally?" She carefully stroked different parts of his hand, never touching the burns directly, but probing the surrounding skin.

"Yes. Hurts a bit, of course, but nothing feels numb."

She nodded at that and gently rebandaged the hand. "Good. I think you're gonna be fine, but without a healer and some real help, this might well take months to heal…"

He just shrugged slightly. "Doesn't matter for now. We have more important things to worry about…"

Another nod. "We'll worry about them tomorrow. Let us all first just get some rest now."

The witcher confirmed with a nod of his own and turned slightly to find that Ciri had already rolled herself into some blankets and was sleeping peacefully. He carefully pulled Jaskier down with him. To the bard's questioning look, he moved the furs up to cover them both. "Let me keep you warm for the night."

He felt Jaskier hesitate, then nod his head against his chest. Then the bard's muscles gradually softened and his breathing evened out for the first time that day.

"So…"

Jaskier looked up from his breakfast when the witcher – unusual as it may be – was apparently about to start a conversation.

"Yes?" He managed a small smile even though his face was still hurting. His gaze was briefly pulled towards the opening of the cave where Ciri had just started tending to New Roach. At least the snowstorm seemed to have died down for now.

"That fire mage… What kind of information was he looking for exactly."

Jaskier visibly swallowed and placed his bowl down.

"Information on you? On you and the princess," he replied carefully.

Geralt kept his face completely neutral. "And what did you tell him."

There was no accusation in his tone, but Jaskier still looked as if he had been slapped.

"What?! Nothing!" Then again, emphatically: "I did not tell him anything."

The witcher threw him a skeptical glance, eyes going to the thick bandage covering the bard's hand.

"He did that to your hand and you just calmly sat there and told him nothing…?"

"No, Geralt, I screamed." He hated how testy he sounded and focused on not showing how much this hurt. How unfair it felt after everything. "But I did not reveal anything about you."

"And about Cirilla?"

This time, Jaskier actually flinched.

"That's enough, Geralt!" Yennefer sounded as angry as he had ever heard her. "God, you really can be such an arse sometimes…"

"I told him that – contrary to popular belief – you and I weren't friends," Jaskier explained icily. "That you hadn't told me anything that would even be valuable information to him." Then, he finally searched Geralt's eyes again and allowed some of the hurt he felt to show on his face. "I'm not arrogant enough to think that I wouldn't have broken at some point? If a mage tortures you and you're human, chances are you won't be able to stay silent forever. But Yennefer interrupted everything before it could even come to that."

Geralt turned his head now to look at the sorceress, but she just shook her head.

"Don't you dare look at me for confirmation for something you already know to be true." She still sounded absolutely furious.

Geralt slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jaskier. It's not that I don't trust you, but you need those hands to play and I know how much you–"

This time, the bard didn't let him finish his thought – question – accusation? Instead he simply stood up and gathered his pack to wordlessly leave the cave.

"Jaskier!"

"Leave him be." Yennefer was still glowering at him. "Let's just give him a few minutes while we pack everything up. Ciri won't let him leave for good…" Then, almost as an afterthought: "You know? It is really funny how you have the most loyal of friends, while you keep trampling on their feelings as if you couldn't care less about them."

"I never asked him to be my friend."

"No," she sounded bitter. "I'm sure you didn't. – And yet you rely on him for help whenever it pleases you." Then, very quietly: "He loves you, you know."

"What do you mean."

Yennefer rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Don't pretend like you've never loved…" Then, emphatically: "He would never betray you."

"Hmmm…"

"But you could still lose him."

"You betrayed me," Geralt simply replied. "When you wanted to regain what was most valuable to you. And burning his hands… Music is what's most valuable to him."

She smiled slightly at that, but the look on her face was unyielding.

"No, Geralt. It is not."