{09}

I spent the next couple of days with the elves. Though I hadn't much spoken, the others grew more trustworthy.

Chireadan, the overly caring man he was, kept close eyes on me and my health. So much so that it became annoyingly clingy.

I sat near a cluster of shrubs one day, using a stick to draw in the dirt. Drawing, with whatever tools I had back 'home', was one of my hobbies. I was no expert, but I'd had enough practice to sell portraits if I really wanted to.

I rested my head on my hand, drawing with my right. Chireadan, the Ever-Observant (his new nickname I concluded in my mind) walked over, eying the drawing in the soil. His eyes twitched at the sight of the subject.

The White Wolf.

"Interesting choice of subject," he said, "what's his name?"

I pursed my lips, staring blankly at the ground, "I...don't know."

Geralt of Rivia.

The elf sat next to me, "how are you feeling?"

I shrugged.

"Well, your wounds seem to have healed..." he paused in hesitation, something on his mind.

"What?" I asked, turning to look at him.

His face flushed red, "don't you have anyone who might be looking for you? Family? A husband?"

Real subtle.

I put the stick down, pressing my legs to my chest, hugging myself with my head resting on my knees, "My parents are dead. And, despite my age, evidently I've found no husband."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

I held back tears, "no, you mustn't apologize. You're curious, I understand."

"Well," he added, "you could, um, stay here if you'd like?"

I cocked my head, surprised. 

"I thought you elves didn't like outsiders? Let alone humans." I said, looking around at the prying eyes.

"Not usually, no, but we help those in need. As far as humans go, we're quite indifferent to them, especially since the war but... You're not quite human."

My eyebrows furrowed, "what do you mean?"

"A normal human would not have survived so easily in the cold. Your body regulated your temperature, a hibernation of sorts. When we found you, crows kept trying to attack us as we brought you here. We've sensed something, which is why my friends seem so wary."

"I see..." I placed my head back down.

"And I think I've fallen in love with you."

My head shot up, "what?"

He cleared his throat, "which wouldn't have happened had you only been human."

He stood then, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Chireadan started walking off, "but please, think of my offer to stay."

Then I said, "wait."

He turned to me, our eyes meeting, "how old do you think I am?"

"In human years? Twenty at least?"

I stood, brushing the dirt off of my pants. I shook my head gently, "I'm seventeen in a few months."

Chireadan's eyes went red and watered, "oh! I-I'm sorry I thought-"

I smiled, "no need to apologize. I see your intentions were not wrong. I know I look older."

He nodded awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"About staying here," I glanced around, "I don't think I'm overly welcome. I thank you for the offer, but..."

"I understand," he said, "I'll have a horse prepared for you."

I shook my head, "no, thank you. You've been generous as is."

I don't want to draw too much attention.

"You're sure?"

I nodded, knowing very well my feet would ache from the trek to follow.

"Here," Chireadan said, handing me a couple of bags, "food and water. The nearest town isn't too far, just follow the river."

"Thank you for your help, friend."

"Of course, anytime. If you ever need anything, you know where to find us."

With that, we parted ways, my heart sinking more with each step I took. 

The cold air caused a sharp pain in my throat, my breath vapors. Guilt crept back in me, knowing I'd lied to him and his people. 

You should have said what you were.

You should have told them the monster you are.

I shook my head, pushing away the voice in the back of my head.

In what felt like a couple of hours, I heard chatter, horses, and people. 

Stepping from the shadows of the forest, I placed my feet along one of the muddied, half-frozen paths of the town. I wandered, eying the townspeople as they stared at me curiously, or outright ignored me. Walking past an inn, my stomach grumbled from the smell of roasted meat and the spices of warm ale.

Not much of a drinker myself, I tried scurrying away, only to stop dead in my tracks.

A bard... someone was singing about a Witcher.

Turning on my muddied heel, I crept past a few smelly drunken men to the inn, sliding in the back of the crowded room to eye the commotion. People cheered and sang along with the bard, a young fellow in blue clothing, strumming a lute. 

I caressed the warm cloak gifted to me from Chireadan closer to my body like a blanket, my hands cold from the chill. I watched in fascination as the man sang.

"Toss a coin to your Witcher, Oh Valley of Plenty, Woah~"

My stomach grumbled again, the berries and nuts from Chireadan scarcely filling my stomach.

Maybe I could... no. I thought, but...

As the song finished, I glanced at the bags and piles of coins being set next to the bard.

Failing to notice the silhouette sitting at the bar next to the bard sipping an ale, I snuck over and grabbed enough coin to buy a plate of hot food. Too caught up in the commotion, the bard celebrated the so-called Witcher with his fellow patrons.

I sighed in satisfaction with my prize, failing to notice the silhouette cock his head in my direction with wide golden eyes and parted lips, a face like he'd seen a ghost (not that Witchers much-feared spirits).

I rushed to one of the workers, ordered my hot meal, and crept in a corner, my cloak barely hiding my hair and feminine stature.

---

The silhouette muttered a "fuck" under his breath and ushered to the bard, "Jaskier, Jaskier!" He whisper yelled.

The bard turned to him, "what, tired of the song already? Thought you could use some coin."

Geralt grunted, then glanced between the girl and his companion.

Jaskier stared at him in confusion, to which Geralt pursed his lips in annoyance, "the girl."

The bard paused a moment, staring at the girl as she scarfed down her food. Jaskier took a look at his coin, then the girl who was, to be fair, not well enough dressed for the frosted weather. 

"Oh... Oh! Why I oughta-" he stated, rushing to the girl sitting in the corner, only for a firm grip to hold him by the arm.

"Not the coin Jaskier! Calanthe's granddaughter."

Too late. She noticed Jaskier's enthusiasm, and just like that, she stood, rushing for the door.

"Fuck." Geralt shot up, eying the ale he had one last time, glaring at Jaskier, then rushing after the girl.

"I'll just, wait here I guess," Jaskier said, pacing awkwardly in the inn tavern.

The girl was fast, rushing through the crowd of people, scared of her pursuer.

---

Shit. I thought, Nilfgaardian spies? Whoever that bard and his silhouetted companion were, I didn't quite get a look at, and I didn't want to find out.

I panted in the wind, daring a few glances behind me. Through the adrenaline and speed, I didn't quite see who was chasing me, but after another couple of checks, I noticed the man was no longer behind me.

I slowed slightly, rushing toward an empty alley-way, needing to stop as the threat of throwing up my meal became apparent. I fell down on the muddied ground, my hood falling from my head. Air pushed out from my body as I looked up at my pursuer.

I scrambled back, seeing those golden eyes, and white hair.

"G-get away!" I shouted, standing finally.

The Witcher raised his hands, creeping towards me, "don't be afraid."

"Stay back!" I shouted, something stirring in my chest as I put my hands in front of me.

The Witcher stopped, "it was you, wasn't it? That started the fire."

I felt myself shaking, "stop talking!"

I felt my heart pounding, my breath was heavy. I closed my eyes, controlling the beast.

Then I saw her face, Yennefer's. I remembered what she said, the face she showed me.

Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher standing before me.

I opened my eyes again, "please," we both pleaded.

I lowered my hands, the rhythm of my heart finally calming.

We stood there silently a moment, then I rushed at him. Geralt's eyes widened as he tried reaching for his sword, only to have the air knocked from his lungs, but not from pain.

From a hug.

He stood shocked for a moment, his hand moving away from the hilt of his sword. His arms didn't touch my back for several moments before they slowly wrapped around me in a gentle embrace. 

My heart fluttered from joy, tears threatening to fall.

It'd been weeks since the fall of the Capital.

Days since Yennefer told me of Geralt.

I stood back from the embrace, then asked "who's Yennefer?"