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Eskel was late.
Dandelion sat on the steps of Kaer Morhen, wrapped in Geralt’s best cloak, waiting. The others were inside, somewhere, and although Dandelion knew they were worried in their own way, he coudln’t help but feel a shred of annoyance that they’d not elected to join him in his wait.
Fucking assholes.
He scowled and pulled the cloak more tightly around himself.
Frost had set in and every day it grew colder and therefore more dangerous to make the trek up the path to Kaer Morhen. Dandelion had pleaded with Lambert to go looking for him, but the Witcher had just snorted and continued drinking his vodka. Geralt had been more sympathetic, trying to soothe Dandelion’s fears and attempting to bribe him with offers of a warm bath. Vesemir had sighed and announced that it was too cold to go outside and look for Eskel, too dangerous.
“That’s why we have to look!” Dandelion had argued.
“Wherever he is, he’s probably camping for the night,” Geralt had been far too calm about the whole situation.
Dandelion had been ready to fight them all before Geralt had grabbed him and pulled him away, taking him to his room and telling him to rest, promising to look for Eskel at first light. Dandelion had waited for Geralt to leave, counted to two hundred, then stolen Geralt’s cloak and snuck out the back entrance.
He didn’t look up as the door to the keep opened, a rush of hot air spilling out, then just as quickly it closed, leaving Dandelion and his company in the cold once again.
“I thought I might find you out here,” Geralt rumbled.
“What if he doesn’t come home?” It was the first time he’d voiced his true worry, that something had happened to Eskel and he wasn’t just late, but dead somewhere in a monster’s nest.
Geralt was quiet for a moment. “Then he wouldn’t want you to freeze to death waiting for him.”
Dandelion finally turned and looked up at him, blinking miserably. Geralt sighed and sat beside him. “I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, pulling Dandelion closer and slipping beneath the cloak to hold him tightly.
By the time Eskel arrived the next morning, they were both fast asleep, a thin layer of snow atop Geralt’s cloak.