"All Those Lonely Mile" - Geralt/Jaskier

Chapter 3: Attack

By the time they had stopped, the sun was high in the air, the horses were drinking from a brook that moved fast enough to not be completely frozen, and Yennefer had thawed their canteens of water. She passed it to Ciri as everyone took a moment to stretch their legs. Jaskier sighed as he rubbed his aching back. He was not meant to be riding horses for so long, if it wasn’t the faster option he would be content to walk most of the way. At least until the paths filled with too much snow. He would rather die than deal with trudging through this. He’d told his companions as much, bemoaning  his aches and bruises as Geralt finished a small fire and pulled out some dried meat he had prepared the night before, passing pieces to everyone.

Jaskier  removed his gloves, or Geralt’s gloves rather, and took the food from the Witcher. Again, as their fingers lingered for probably a moment too long, something crackled between them. The Bard stoutly refused  to address it and would not ask if Geralt had noticed. Frankly he saw no point, a silly thing to bring up, and was most certainly nothing that should be looked into nevermind spoken about… 

Jaskier had convinced himself of this.

"Thank you." Jaskier smiled softly, though it didn't fully reach his eyes. Geralt noticed but said nothing.

Geralt wasn't sure what to do regarding Jaskier. He had wanted the Bard to come with them, he had missed him terribly these last few months. The lack of Jaskier’s presence during what he had seen as the loss of Yen was awful.

But, ever since the mountain, ever since he had yelled at him, something had shifted in his friend. 

When he found Jaskier in that prison, something was different. 

Outside Cintra, in Kaer Morhen, the Bard had changed. Geralt didn't know if it was a change for the better, or a drastic shift for the worse. 

The Witcher certainly hated change of any kind, but when it came to change in a, dear friend, he hated it all the more. 

Geralt was beginning to feel like it was not a good change at all. 

“Something wrong?” Jaskier’s voice caught Geralt’s attention, his orange eyes flicking to the Bard’s lips and the way the question looked slipping from them, the way the entire man’s face was filled with what was going on in his head. It was fascinating, and the Wither realized he had been staring in silence for much to long.

“Not at all.” Geralt replied flatly. 

The smile Jaskier gave him was a little more real, though Geralt could still tell something was wrong. 

Geralt looked over Jaskier’s shoulder towards where Yennefer was watching them with a frown, although her eyes dropped to the cup she was holding the moment their eyes met.

Everyone's ridiculous actions were beginning to annoy the typically stoic Witcher.

Ciri stood abruptly, something serious across her face. Her green eyes squinted worriedly towards the trees. 

Geralt followed her gaze, a similar serious look on his face.

“What’s wrong Ciri?” The words were barely out of his mouth when a shriek echoed through the air and a dark figure flew over them.

 Jaskier ducked with a startled cry.

Yennefer jumped to her feet,  both hands palm up and ready as she followed the shadow. She scowled as it went out of sight briefly.
  
“Get on the horses, all of you, I’ll catch up” Geralt called over, halfway through pulling out his silver sword.

Yennefer opened her mouth to snap something, probably about being perfectly capable, Jaskier was sure of it.

Whatever Yennefer uttered went unheard; Geralt had said to get to the horses and that was what he intended to do. Jaskier had learned long ago, when traveling Geralt, if he said run, you run, if he said hide, you hide. He held tight to the reins, ready to mount.