Pups at Heart

Do You Remember When?

Winter on the continent was harsh and bitter, offering little reprieve for any poor soul stuck in its grasp. Contracts were few and far between, the monsters having enough sense to bed down for the time being. And towns were already none too keen on the prospect of a witcher staying at their inn, much less for an extended amount of time. Camping was absolutely out of the question. There really was no other option than to head to their old keep.

The trek to Kaer Morhen was difficult and tiring at best and cruel and unforgiving at worst. But the warm fire and homemade liquor made it worth it.

These cold months weren't easy for any of them. They had to constantly keep up with the maintenance of the old castle and train near daily to ensure they would be ready for their next hunt, whenever that may be. Witchers were restless. They were used to being on the move, and could be irritable when forced to stay in one place. Especially when they all intentionally got on each other's nerves. But Geralt wouldn't have it any other way, and he knew they wouldn't either.

They were sitting in the dining hall, merrily drinking and exchanging stories. Vesemir had retired earlier that evening, leaving the three wolves alone to their shenanigans.

"I'm too old to watch all the dumb shit I know you're gonna get into," he had claimed. "So get it all out while I'm not there to witness it." He didn't have to tell them twice. As soon as the coast was clear, Lambert's grin turned absolutely feral.

"Now that he's gone, the real Vesemir can come out!" he exclaimed and dashed out of the room. Eskel cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled after him.

"Damnit not that bullshit again! It's not even funny!"

From down the hall they heard the echoing reply. "It's hilarious and you know it!" Geralt chuckled while Eskel shook his head in defeat. He grabbed his mug and pulled it closer to himself.

"Ugh, I'm not drunk enough to laugh at his dumb jokes," he said, taking a gulp.

"Drink up then, he'll be back soon."

"Unfortunately." But the small turn of his lips said differently. When he returned, Lambert stood in the doorway with a flourish. The hat sat atop his head a bit crooked, and for some damn reason, he had a fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

"Behold! The one and only Vesemir!" he slurred out, leaning against the doorframe. Eskel looked over his shoulder, and upon seeing him spewed out his ale.

"You look fucking ridiculous," he said, wiping his mouth. Lambert didn't walk, he sauntered over to them. Geralt raised a brow and Eskel had to look away, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Lambert leaned in over the table, fixing him with a glare from beneath the brim of his hat.

"Now is that any way to talk to your elders?" he asked.

"I don't know. Seeing as your the youngest I think you should answer that," Geralt said smugly. Lambert flipped him off.

"Birds don't fly indoors," Geralt replied with a smirk. Lambert's face scrunched in confusion, looked at his hand, then a wave of realization washed over him.

"Oooh. Hehe, that's funny, I'll have to remember that. Birds don't fly indoors. You're so funny Geralt," he rambled as he shrugged off the blanket. He then threw it over both of their heads, earning himself a few yelled out curses and protests. Eskel ripped off the blanket and chucked it on the floor. Geralt snatched the hat from his head, and Lambert whined as he reached for it. Geralt held him at bay with a hand at his chest, the other arm outstretched and gripping the hat. Eskel plucked it from his hands and plopped it on his own head.