And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 5 - Jaskier

"So, I take it mending isn't your favorite activity?" Coen looked at the obviously bored wolf, needle and thread working to fix the last of their torn clothes. He was the best at mending, stitches nice and regular, he was even able to add small, simple embroidery designs over the tears, like the sword he added to Eskel's trousers right now.

Jaskier yawned widely, shaking his head.

"Hmm... interesting. How much do you understand now?" he asked, putting the trousers away and taking Eskel's favorite tunic already well on its way to be thrown out, but he still tried to keep it from falling apart at the seams. The wolf snorted and Coen chuckled.

"Okay, okay, yes or no questions, right?" he looked at the wolf, who just stared with his head tilted.

"Do you like venison?"

A clear nod.

"Do you like snow?"

A nod and a woof.

"Do you like Eskel?"

Woof.

"What about Lambert, do you like him?"

A snort, a nod, and a woof. Coen smirked.

"So, you like witchers?"

The wolf's head was tilted to the side.

"Witchers, monster-hunters, do you know what a witcher is?" the griffin asked, putting down the mending when the wolf just looked at him with confusion.

"Do you know who we are?" Coen asked, throat suspiciously tight, as the wolf walked up closer to him, nudging at his hand.

A whimper, a nod, and a nuzzle. The witcher scratched the werewolf behind his ears and sighed.

...

Jaskier couldn't fall asleep. He was in a bed with the growly one, whom the others called Lambert, but he felt restless like something was missing. He jumped down from the bed, walking back and forth across the room. His pack member just groaned, pulling a pillow over his head, so Jaskier opened the door to the room quietly and left, sniffing around for the rest of his pack. There was the scarred one, a big, comfortable presence whenever he was around Jaskier. He had a nice rumbly voice and the words he told him were familiar and settling.

Jaskier caught his scent and walked to the room next door, jumping up and opening it so he could slide inside just as he intended. The big wolf was sitting with the paper thing in his hands near the fire, and he immediately noticed Jaskier, so he just walked over to him, nuzzling his face, before he pulled on his sleeve.

"What are you doing, Jaskier? Where are we going?" Eskel asked, but Jaskier thought he was being quite clear, dragging him to Lambert's room. When it finally looked like his pack member understood, Jaskier let him go, watching as scarry one nudged growly one to the side, before he jumped up the bed. He tried curling up and settled for a moment, but soon he opened his eyes in frustration again. No. He was missing someone.

He jumped down from the creaking bed with an annoyed huff, walking out the door again, ignoring the whispers of his name. In the end, Eskel followed him. Nice, the pack should be together. Just as he was trying to do.

He found the door to the not-wolf-but-pack-smelling one, Coen, and jumped up to open the door, when Eskel stopped him and went inside himself. There was some hushed murmuring before they both came out the door. Good, they understood. Now he just longingly looked towards where the scent of his oldest pack member came from under the door and watched with elation as Eskel went there too.

It took a bit of growling from the pack leader, but in the end, they all made their way back to Lambert's room, Jaskier happily trotting.

"We won't fit on the bed," grumbled the pack leader, and the whole place had to be moved around a bit, including angrily sputtering Lambert, before they all settled on the mattress that was put on the ground together with blankets, pillows, and fur. It was warm and smelled like the pack, and all of the others were there with him. Well, except for the sharp-smelling one, that one was away, but Jaskier didn't need to think about him now.

He happily curled into a ball in the middle of the mattress and fell asleep, feeling more than one hand petting him.

...

They were woken up by a loud yelp, wolf paws scrambling away from the den unheeding the witchers' bodies, and distressed whimpers.

"What the fuck..." Lambert groaned, opening one eye, just in time to see Jaskier jumping around in a weird dance, distress and whimpering filling up the room.

"Hey, Buttercup, it's okay. What's wrong?" he yawned, stretching his hand towards the wolf, when the bard jumped to the side, staring at him with panic-wide eyes. Just then all of the witchers were already properly woken up, sitting up in the room, all watching the panicking werewolf.

"Did he... return to us?" Coen dared guessing, when he watched the wolf lifting all of his paws in succession, shaking his tail, and turning around in circles to seemingly look at his own body. Just then he, in the bard's typical clumsiness, bumped his head into one of the corners of the moved bed, and sat on his butt, before he whimper-howled at the offending bedframe, and finally calmed down enough, to look at the witchers.

All of them still sitting around the mattress on the ground of the way too small room must have been a sight. And truly, the wolf sat, and looked at them, head tilting, animal features twisting in a way a human face usually would with brows furrowing.

"Jaskier?" Eskel asked and the wolf softly whimpered, looking quickly down at his paws again, before lifting his head and staring at all of them with wide, scared eyes.

"Do you remember witchers?" Coen asked, not caring about Lambert's lifted eyebrow.

A slow nod.

"Bard, do you remember what happened after you and Geralt parted ways this year?" Vesemir asked, and even though Jaskier's whole being seemed smaller after hearing the name of his ex-travel-companion, he slowly nodded.

"Fuck, is it really you, bard?" Lambert asked, finally standing up and scrambling out of the den towards the wolf.

A nod, with the wolf's head hanging low, sorrow and fear stinking up the room. The witchers looked at each other before nodding resolutely and they all rushed forward to pet and hug the bard. Lambert himself was the first, to the mild surprise of the other witchers, and he scratched the wolf's neck before shaking his head a bit and pressing their foreheads together.

"I don't know, which fucker cursed you, but at least we know that Geralt fucked up, and you don't have to worry about that now. You're still very damn welcome here, right?" he turned to Vesemir who nodded solemnly.

"Of course, pup."