Or Lips to Ease his Roar
Once Jaskier's wounds were clean and bandaged, he decided Jaskier would be safe enough now with Roach for him to go back and find out what exactly happened when he lost sight of Jaskier. Before he backtracked, however, Geralt left his silver sword within arms reach of Jaskier.
The Witcher set off with one of Roach's saddlebags should he come across anything helpful at the camp. He wasn't particularly looking forward to going back to the bandits' camp, but he had to know what happened to his archer. His friend.
Moving at a normal pace rather than a stalking prowell was much faster. It didn't take him 15 minutes to find where he and Jaskier got separated. He was shocked to find, though, the bodies of the men Jaskier killed. John and Tristan he heard them called. One had an arrow in his head while the other had rope marks around his throat and a light blue tainted face.
The tracks were even easier to follow from there. It's as if Jaskier was trying to leave Geralt a trail. The footprints were wilder, some of the branched foliage on the side of the faint path was bent, or a rock's moss had purposely been disturbed. The Witcher didn't know where Jaskier had learned these tricks, but he was almost angry with himself that the archer needed them--that the happy-go-lucky man was now almost as good at tracking as he was.
His blood was still on that tree. Scratch that almost.
Jaskier's eyes fluttered open when the brightness of the sun wouldn't relent. The fire had died down in the night, he couldn't hear Gerlt, but Roach was nearby. Turning his head to the side, he caught the sun glinting off the blade of one of Geralt's swords.
He had no idea where the Witcher was but he wasn't worried about if he was going to come back. Even if he'd ridden Roach, he felt fairly certain the white-haired man would return. After all, why would Geralt have rescued him just to ditch him again? No. Geralt had changed. Right?
Jaskier pushed the thought from his mind and took to cloud watching to distract his mind from the pain in his arm, leg, and side. He couldn't always make out clouds between the leaves above his head, but it was calming enough.
The archer turned next to Roach. The creature was roaming freely, untethered but never straying more than a couple of yards away. As if Roach could feel eyes on her, she turned to Jaskier and snorted before sauntering over and plopping down next to the resting archer.
He was able to pet the horse and huffed out a pained chuckle when Roach nuzzled his forehead with her nose. "Yes. Hello, Roach." Jaskier smiled. "You're always such a gentle horse. A big girl, but a softie."
Roach nudged him again.
"I know, girl. I'd sit up and give you real pats but I think I'd pass out again if I did and Geralt wouldn't be too happy with me, I don't think."
The two laid in silence, Jaskier lazily stroking the side of the horse as he watched the clouds and let his mind wander.
He was happy with how things turned out in the long run. Geralt was back and they were going better than ever before. He was starting to miss his lute more and more but it's not like he could do anything about it. He didn't have money for a playable lute and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask Geralt. Not right after he used supplies to patch up wounds he could have avoided getting.
You both know travelling with a Witcher is a dangerous thing for a human to do a voice in his head reminded him.
But it's not as though Geralt owed him anything. Nothing. The Witcher said sorry more times in the last fortnight or so than he'd probably ever said in his life. He patched Jaskier up, hunted with him. They were almost equals now rather than Geralt being a begrudged babysitter.
