Chapter Text
"Geralt. Geralt! Wake the fuck up!"
Geralt felt his eyes slowly creaking open at the sound of an angry woman hissing at him. Then, the heaviness of his limbs registered, and his muffled senses, and the fact he'd never heard the voice before, and Geralt bolted awake, grabbing the arm of the one who'd hovered over him. She looked less than impressed, though that was probably easier to see in the dark thanks to the bright yellow of her eyes. A witcher, then. Not one Geralt had ever met; She was broad, muscled of course, with long tied back brown hair only a shade lighter than her skin, a wide pattern of vitiligo on her face, and the usual dark armor and two swords. Actually, when Geralt looked closer, the armor and swords looked familiar--too familiar.
"Are those my swords?" Geralt asked, incredulous.
"Probably," the woman said with no hesitation. "Magic is weird like that."
"What-?"
"Look, I don't have time-" She snorted out a breath through her nose, sounding like an irritated horse. "Get your bard- horse- Jaskier, and move back the way we came. Apparently, we camped too close to an old battlefield."
Geralt's head spun. Magic? Another witcher? An old battlefield, one Geralt hadn't sensed? His senses, in fact, feeling odd? Even as he stood, he felt like he was wobbling, shivering in the chill of the night. surely his own armor would have kept him warmer than...
His armor. He wasn't wearing it. Instead, he appeared to be in half of one of Jaskier's bard outfits, with bright green pants and an unlaced undershirt.
"What the-?!"
Everything was so dark. He could barely tell color beyond his own body, and he stumbled desperately towards where the fire had been before they'd gone to sleep, only ashes now. He tripped right over a large object, startling a whinny from it. he flushed at his clumsiness. What was wrong with him?
"Sorry Roach," Geralt muttered.
"It's fine," said the other witcher. Geralt squinted in her direction, confused and more than a little put off he couldn't see her under the deeper shadow of a tree.
"I was talking to my horse," Geralt muttered.
"...You need to get out of here. What, can't you see in this light?"
Geralt frowned harder, trying to ignore the strange witcher. He found the last of the logs, tinder, and some flint, fumbling it enough he started to get angry. He also realized who hadn't woken up yet. "Jaskier, wake up."
No response. Well, not aside from Roach standing up--which was odd too since she didn't like to lay down in the wilderness--and wickering.
"Jaskier." Nothing, only another horse snort. "Jaskier!"
Geralt finally managed to get the fire lit, coaxing the flames to burn brighter.
He noticed his arms. Were they slimmer? His skin seemed warmer, pinker than he remembered, though maybe it was just from the light of the fire. He hoped, desperately, the same for the red-orange color to the strand of hair which had fallen just in view. What could not be explained was the fact that Roach had wandered closer, and was decidedly not Roach. First, the horse was a dappled dun color, with the very light brown color broken up by the darker brown mane, tail, and socks on the legs. Second, the horse was quite clearly a stallion, not a mare. Finally, the horse was already tacked and saddled with bags attached, despite that Geralt had made sure to give Roach a thorough brush down before nightfall.
So did the horse belong to the other witcher? If so, where was Roach, or Jaskier?
"Jaskier!" he called, louder than before.
The witcher hissed a warning to be quiet from somewhere in the dark. The horse came closer, whuffing and trying to lip at his hair. Geralt gently pushed the horse's head away; it wasn't his fault things had gone so wrong. But the horse was persistent, pushing against his back and arm, until Geralt finally reached up and grabbed at the bridle, patting the horse's nose, even when it shook its neck and withers, giving what seemed like an irritated huff.
With his other hand, Geralt put his fingers to his mouth and started a whistle which would call Roach to him. Barely a second in, the witcher was suddenly in his space, yanking his hand away from his lips.
"Are you stupid?" she growled. "I told you to get Jaskier and leave. Not bring the monsters down on us."
"And I am trying to find him," Geralt growled back, though he noticed his voice was no longer suited to it, feeling smoother and lighter than it had since his first grasses had torn and healed his throat in measures. "I'm not leaving without Roach either."
"I know," the witcher said, rolling her eyes dramatically and allowing Geralt to take his hand back. "I'll be behind you. So you and Jaskier go first."
Geralt opened his mouth. Closed it. Several pieces clicked into place. In a small voice, Geralt asked, "Roach?"
"Geralt," Roach said, wry.
Geralt turned to the horse, letting the bridle go as he stepped back. "Jaskier?"
The stallion--Jaskier--did several very large horse nods.
"Fuck."
"Worry later," Roach said. "We need to get both of you-"
The speed she turned her head gave Geralt sympathetic neck pains, but the intent focus on her face, and the way she inched a hand back to reach for a sword over her shoulder made his stomach drop.
"Take the silver one, it'll be more effective," Geralt whispered, thinking of what was most likely to stray from a battlefield.
Roach hesitated.
"Higher, closer to your spine."
Roach reached and drew the correct sword, her eyes darting back and forth.
"Stay by the fire," she murmured. "Preferably on Jaskier. I don't know how much this new body knows, but we might have to run, if I'm no good."
Geralt frowned, but did stay put as Roach stalked just out of range of the light. Given the oddities of his other two companions, and how he woke up, he was likely the human now, out of the three of them. Weaker, slower reflexes, little resistance to infection, and with no weaponry which could kill even a ghoul. ...Actually.
He carefully dug through the bags on Jaskier, finding the dagger which the bard kept close in dangerous areas.
"It's been a long time since I've needed defending," he griped.
Jaskier snorted, gently nudging at him.
"Don't you do anything stupid. You might be a- a horse, for the moment, but I've no doubt you'd get injured if you tried to 'help' Roach."
Jaskier gave him a flat, unimpressed look.
"I'm serious. None of us are used to... to this, so over judging distances, or speed, or even just how to move, could lead to us getting... Let's just not chance it."
Jaskier placed his head just on top of Geralt's, making him grunt in relief and annoyance. Whether he was offering comfort, or showing off his new height, or both, at least Jaskier was Jaskier.
Of course, it was because Jaskier was Jaskier, and Roach was Roach, that Geralt found he couldn't simply leave. Not when only one would be left behind, ill prepared for what she was about to face, in an unfamiliar body. So Geralt and Jaskier backed away, Jaskier nudging him into a good distance, probably what he himself would have chosen as a human, and watched.
The fight was only against a few ghouls, which was good. But Roach had only instinct and the motivation of watching Geralt to rely on, which was very bad.
Often, Geralt felt the need to call out advice, to "Turn your body, give them less to aim at!" or "You only have two feet, keep them grounded!" or even "Left! Your other left!" when a ghoul got too close into an apparent blind spot for Roach.
She'd taken down one, and injured the other two when she yelled back in frustration, "Just trust me!"
Geralt had shut his mouth, watching with more tension, the metal of the dagger handle firm in his tight grip. Once the second was also dead, the last one wised up, backing away before sprinting off- Right towards Geralt. He raised his dagger, sweat beading on his back.
As was his want, though, Jaskier stole the spotlight, neighing at the ghoul before turning just so and hitting the ghoul right in the head with a solid kick. The thump and crack from the rear hoof colliding with the skull told Geralt immediately that it was dead. Roach, of course, still stopped from her jog over to them to stab it through, just in case.
She looked over Geralt, then Jaskier, and nodded, grinning.
"Well. It's still night. Dunno about you two, but I'm still fucking tired."
Jaskier made a delighted, almost laughing nicker. But Geralt agreed. All the stress combined with only a partial night's sleep had taken its toll on his now-human body. if they wanted to figure out what happened in the morning, they would need to be rested and thinking as clearly as possible. So, while he only grunted, to the amusement of his companions, they eventually placed their things away and got ready to sleep again.
They all moved closer to each other than before, though, taking comfort in the presence of close friends.
Geralt looked up, staring at the stars speckled across the blue and black tapestry of the sky. Something that never changed, yet constantly changed. Though the sky rotated through the year, constellations dancing about through different seasons, those same constellations always came back.
"If it takes a while," Roach murmured, from where she rested her back against Jaskier's side, "Maybe... you should teach me. I still want. I want to protect you."
Geralt turned to find yellow eyes glinting at him through the encroaching darkness. From experience, he knew Roach had better senses now, so he nodded his head. Jaskier turned his head just a little to nose at her hair, making her swat him away, even though Geralt could tell she was more amused than anything.
It would be odd. They all wanted to get back to the way they were before, Geralt was sure. But together, at least, covering for each other, they would make it through. Geralt trusted in that.