Chapter Text
Geralt knows he’s being followed. Has known it for a while.
The person following him is a professional, clearly knows what they’re doing. Quiet steps, careful to avoid any twigs or loose rocks. Their scent is hidden well enough. When Geralt turns to look behind him (carefully, subtly,) there’s no one to be seen.
But there’s a distinct feeling that comes with being followed. Something that Geralt has become intimately familiar with over the years. The dance between predator and prey.
Geralt can’t help but wonder who would follow a Witcher into the woods. The off-beaten path isn’t safe for anyone.
Dwelling on who it is won’t do much good. Not when knows he has to prepare himself for an attack. Thinks he may be able to catch his opponent off guard if he doesn’t make it obvious that he knows he’s being followed. He can plan a bit. If he’s lucky, he may be even able to pick where he fights.
Night falls. He sets up camp in a clearing. Roach is tired.
Still no definitive sign of his pursuer.
Until he just… swaggers into Geralt’s camp.
A Witcher.
A young Witcher.
There’s an ease in his movements and a grin to match. The armor is flashy, colorful. Ridiculous. A cat medallion hangs from his neck. Twin swords peak out over his shoulder, and there are a few knives strapped to his thighs. He doesn’t reach for his weapons, so Geralt does not reach for his own.
“So this is the Butcher of Blaviken!” He opens his arms in a dramatic fashion. “You don’t seem so… butchery.”
“Washed off the blood already.” Geralt replies drily.
The grins grows.
“Well then, Butcher. I have a gift for you,” The Cat steps closer. There’s no aggression or intent to attack in his movements, but Geralt lays a careful hand on the hilt of his sword all the same. “Easy, there. Just thought I’d pass this along!” Slowly, he reaches inside his shirt (open, exposed, amateur) and pulls out a bit of parchment.
Geralt looks down at the parchment, then back up to the Cat. He takes it, opens it, and frowns. A contract. On his head. He sighs. Eventually, someone was going to try and kill him. His reputation along with his occupation make people uneasy. But he’s not sure what he’s done to piss off Temeria so badly. The striga, if he had to guess. “They hired you, then?”
“Who better to kill a Witcher than another Witcher?” It’s not uncommon for a Cat Witcher to take a contract on humans as well as monsters. Their mutations differ, if the stories are to be believed. Geralt has no idea what to make of this man.
“Why give me this?”
“I’ve heard stories about you,” He says, beginning to pick at his nails. “When taking contracts. Or trying to, only to find out that you’ve killed all the monsters in the surrounding area.” When he looks back, there’s a glint in his golden eyes. “Not quite as beastly as you were made out to be. And there’s already so few of us.”
“Hm,” Geralt stands. The Cat doesn’t tense, doesn’t reach for his knives, and doesn’t give any impression yet that he means to harm him. “They’ll know I’m not dead soon enough. Your brothers may come for me. Would you still be so willing to warn me knowing I might kill one of them?”
Surprisingly, this makes the Cat grin wider. “My siblings,” He corrects. “Are bastards.”
“Hm,” Geralt carefully folds the contract and tucks it away. “I’m not paying you.”
A laugh. “I’m not expecting you to! Except, perhaps, in a story or two. And in company, perhaps? I suspect my siblings won’t be too pleased that I rallied for the contract only to ignore it completely.”
“No.”
“To the story? Or the company?”
“Both.”
The Cat drops his bag and sits on a log nearby the fire Geralt had set up earlier. “I’ll just sit here then. And maybe talk for a bit. I did go through all the trouble of tracking you down, you see. I’m tired.”
Geralt frowns. It’s been a while since he’s met a Witcher from outside Kaer Morhen. He didn’t care to, either. Especially from School of the Cat. It’s a bad idea. He sits across from him anyway.
“‘m Jaskier, by the way. Since you asked.”
“I didn’t.”
The day started with Geralt being followed.
The following weeks are much the same.