And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 4 - A Happy Werewolf

"Hey, stop fucking running," Lambert braced his hand on the wall of the courtyard as he watched Geralt enter the stable.

"Let me be, Lambert. I'm not in the mood," Geralt growled.

"Fuck your mood. What the fuck did you do?" Lambert asked, straight to the point as always, and only Coen's hand on his chest stopped him from going to punch the asshole.

"I fucked up, okay?" Geralt threw his hands up. "I was stupid, I poured my anger out at him, and I sent him away," he continued, surprisingly self-aware.

"I knew I fucked up the moment I sat down at the next tavern, and he wasn't there. But I was so damn hung up on having a bad time that I decided to let it be, as the autumn was coming closer already, and to look for him in the spring. Maybe he would come to meet me in Ard Carraigh if he forgave me earlier, that's what I thought," he ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't think he would get himself cursed in the meantime," he whispered, the guilt-smell heavy again.

"You wolves and words," Coen sighed, patting Lambert who outwardly bristled at the accusation, but deep in his soul had to agree. They were something like experts at shitting into their own mouths. He still sometimes wondered how the fuck he didn't manage to chase Aiden away yet.

"I basically told him all my mistakes were his fault. I told him that I wanted to be rid of him. Called it a blessing," Geralt said, looking straight at Lambert as if hoping for the younger wolf to punch him. And Lambert understood.

"I have no idea how, but you're going to have to fix that, wolf," he said, clenching his fists hard. Then he turned around and left, Coen by his side, heading for the training yard. There would be no wall-fixing today. Not before he got rid of the urge to beat something up.

...

When the wolf woke up again, he was much calmer, and Eskel stretched before going to prepare for supper. Vesemir cracked his back, old bones stiff from sitting on the ground for this long.

"Now bard, how about we make a trip to the spring? There's still blood and mud in your fur," he said and watched with surprise, how the wolf got up, ears all perked up, and howled shortly.

"Well, guess you really are Jaskier," the old witcher smiled and led the werewolf down the hall and then down the steep stairs – that part took a bit more maneuvering and help for the four-legged – all the way to the warm cavern with pools of deliciously hot water. The wolf rushed to the edge of the closest pool, and in an entirely unwolflike fashion dipped the tip of one paw into the water, before happily shaking his head and gracelessly half falling half climbing into the spring. The growly sigh as the wolf turned into a puddle of contentment was so like the sound the bard usually made that it was startling.

The old wolf chuckled, pulling off his clothes before grabbing a block of gently scented honeysoap and climbing into the water after the wolf.

"Okay Jaskier, let's get rid of that dirt," he hummed and started washing the creature. He was wary in case the wolf decided he didn't like the proceedings, but just like usual, Jaskier welcomed the attention and let himself be soaped up and rubbed as much as Vesemir needed to. While lathering the fur up with a thick layer of bubbles, he carefully checked on the arrow wound, pleased to see it almost healed. At least the bardling also got better healing with the curse.

It was unsettling, watching the furry creature playfully pop stray bubbles similarly to how the bard did, but have no chatter filling the space of the cavern. It was hard to think of the bright human locked inside a beast's body. At least it seemed he was slowly regaining bits and pieces of his personality. Vesemir wasn't sure what they were doing, but he knew that this wasn't usual. They must be going the right way though, and he resolved to make each of his pups spend more time with the bardling.