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Chapter Text

Seeds of Life (by Seven Nations)

Pulling at an errant weed, Eskel tried his best to hunch low in the garden and make himself inconspicuous. 

As if being taken from a mother who loved him and shoved into a life which could only lead to death was not bad enough, puberty mixed with the Witcher mutations was leading to some… difficult changes.

Looking left and then right, Eskel shuffled his aching knees in the dirt and looked longingly at the tomatoes on the vine in front of him. Usually he would not think twice about stealing a few of them, he was constantly hungry ever since the trial of the grasses, but well…

“Eskel!”

Flinching, Eskel hunkered down as much as he could, annoyed that his gangly limbs seemed to constantly be in his way.

“Eskel what’re you doing? We finally have a moment to rest and you’re wasting time out here?”

Geralt tripped over the tip of his boot but caught himself quickly before glancing discreetly over his shoulder to see if anyone else saw.

“I’m hiding. Shut up and crouch down over here. Wait no, go on the other side of the row. If we huddle up it’ll be suspicious.”

Eskel pulled another weed and watched as Geralt carefully crossed the row. His hair, once a brilliant red orange, was growing in white at the roots. A gift from his second round of mutations that Eskel thought looked nice, but also knew his brother was self-conscious about. A lot of the other boys picked at Geralt for it, but never Eskel, never once.

“What’re you hiding from? What’d you do?”

Out of habit Geralt immediately started weeding, but his golden eyes were fixed on Eskel making him squirm a bit.

“You can’t laugh.”

“I won’t”

Sniffing, Eskel took in the scent of blooming wildflowers on the wind. Not all of the mutations were bad, not really, but it was still overwhelming sometimes.

“I… I was going to grab some stuff for Janek and when I left the storeroom I…”

Geralt was quiet, and Eskel was grateful for once that his brother was not quick to fill a silence.

“Well, you see, the door closed and I went to open it and I didn’t mean to honest I swear! The door to that storeroom is heavy, you know the one I mean, the one to the left of the hallway with that ugly tapestry.”

Biting his tongue, Eskel sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“I might’ve… ripped the door off its hinges.”

There was silence and Eskel comforted himself by pulling a particularly hearty weed out of the ground. His knees started aching even more and he gave up the pretense of working so he could sit down and stretch his legs.

“Did you do it on purpose?”

Immediately looking at his brother’s face, Eskel searched it to see if he was being made fun of. Geralt had a weird sense of humor, always had, but mutation or not he always got a bit of a look in his eyes when he was joking. 

Sniffing, Eskel wrinkled his nose when he got the fresh scent of wet goat. Someone had let them go into the pond and would definitely get in trouble for it. They would all probably get a lecture about it at dinner.

“Course not! Why would I purposefully take a door off its hinges Geralt?”

Geralt shrugged sitting back in the dirt and mirroring Eskel. 

“Well I mean, you’re acting like it’s your fault.”

“Cause it is!”

Rolling his eyes, Geralt shook his head and picked a barely ripe tomato. It was not quite ready to be picked though, and so he also accidentally broke off half the vine. Two sad green tomatoes and one yellow one accompanied the one he meant to pull, and Geralt scratched his neck. Huffing, he tossed the ripest one to Eskel before contenting himself with the rest.

“Not our fault. Not the door, not the tomatoes.”

Rolling his eyes, Eskel smiled.

“The tomatoes are definitely your fault. You know you’re supposed to pinch ‘em off the vine. The door… well, I mean maybe you’re right.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted and Eskel could not help but to laugh. Geralt was never big on talking, he said that talking made him tired, but after the second round of mutations he had been even more quiet than usual. The Spring air, the almost ripe tomato, and his best friend and brother at his side well… maybe the door really was not such a big deal.

The two boys smelled Janek as he walked toward them from downwind, and Eskel immediately tensed up glancing at Geralt. Janek hated the garden, he rarely willingly went past the gate. He much preferred his books and test tubes. 

If the two boys started running they would definitely be questioned. Geralt nodded his head and the two boys went back to pretending they were weeding. The quiet did not last long.

“Eskel! Oh, and who’s with you? Ah figures. You might as well come along as well then.”

Wiping their hands off on their trousers, the boys obediently followed Janek as he lead them on a leisurely stroll. They passed the upper garden, passed the stables, passed one of the classrooms. If they were going to the storeroom, Eskel thought, they were really going around their ass to get to their elbow. 

They walked for about fifteen minutes before Janek course corrected them to the storeroom. The door, very obviously off its hinges, was carefully propped up against the wall. Janek turned to them and smiled.

“Now that you boys have had time to stew on it, would you like to tell me what’s strange about this scene before us?”

Janek, though mercurial and eccentric, was considered fair by most the pupils of Kaer Morhen. Some of the other instructors were quick to snap and bear their teeth at him, but Janek would just smile, his fangs on very prominent display. He was one of a small group of wolf Witchers who refused to shave down their canines for the benefit of the ungrateful population at large, and his dominant personality was not just for show.

“Well, you see-”

Geralt looked at Janek directly as he began to speak, but Eskel’s hand shot out gently to rest on his chest quieting him. Janek, tilting his head, did not speak, but his pupils dilated. 

“What Geralt was gonna say Sir is when I came down here earlier, when you sent me down here. Uh, which I’m sure you remember of course Sir. So uh, that is to say, when I came down earlier and I was about to leave, well, the door. You know how this door sometimes shuts without anyone making it? Well, it shut, and you see, as I went to open it I just kinda… Well, it just kinda… Came off the hinges… As it were Sir.”

Rubbing at his cheek slightly out of nervousness, Eskel cursed his propensity to ramble. He could practically hear Lambert cackling at him in the back of his mind. Hill folk through and through, Lambert would say. Well, that was one thing, Eskel thought, the trial of the grasses blessedly could not take away from him he guessed.

Janek let the two boys squirm under his gaze before his mouth quirked up into a smile and he let out a bark of a laugh, his canines on full display. Eskel caught Geralt’s eye warily, and he wondered what kind of trick or lesson this might be.

“Oh come now, don’t be so suspicious boys.”

Janek’s face was full of mirth, and it occurred to Eskel that the mans eyes might have been dilated because Janek thought this whole situation was funny from the get go.

“Ah, I see the gears turning, you’ve figured it out then boy? I always said you were one of my better pupils for a reason. Geralt, any thoughts?”

Geralt shifted closer to Eskel so their shoulders touched.

“You were testing us. Wanted to see if we’d lie or not.”

Nodding his head, Janek clapped his hands together twice looking pleased.

“Very astute boy, very astute, and if it hadn’t of been for your friend you would’ve walked straight into my trap. No reason to say anything.”

Geralt’s mouth snapped shut, and Eskel bumped their shoulders together lightly.

“I know what it’s like to try to cover for your brother. To be honest…”

Janek leaned towards the boys, and though he was not much taller than them, his filled out frame made it feel like he was much larger.

“I’m not actually mad about this at all, I find it quite humorous. It’s been too long since the last boy ripped a door off its hinges. It was bound to happen, and you’ve helped me to win a little bet. Here, your winnings for your assistance.”

Janek motioned for Eskel to put out his hands, and Eskel obeyed without a second thought.

“A bet Sir?”

Janek deposited six little toffee candies in Eskel’s hands, and Eskel’s mouth immediately began watering. He could split them evenly with Geralt, he could split the lot of them with Geralt and Lambert both even and still be happy. The candy was better than currency between the pupils of Kaer Morhen, and having six pieces well… It was better than being a king in a castle made of gold.

“We all have our little hobbies.”

Sniffing, Janek shrugged his shoulders and turned to glance down the hallway. There was something right at the edge of Eskel’s hearing, and he thought the gait of the approaching individual sounded familiar.

“Ah well then boys, I’d carry on if I were you. Wouldn’t want trouble coming down on your heads then huh? Best pocket your winnings Eskel.”

Janek offered a grin and a wink before he took off down the hall towards whoever was approaching, and Eskel did not think twice about shoving the candies in his pocket, grabbing Geralt by the arm, and rushing off.

“You gonna share?”

Geralt sounded unsure of himself. He would never ask or demand Eskel to share, but the hope in his tone made Eskel smile reassuringly. 

“Course I am. Think we should give Lambert one? We could split is evenly.”

“Hmm…”

One glance and Eskel knew that Geralt would prefer everything to be equal. Always the knight in shinning armour.  

“Come on, I think Lamb’s in the southern turret.”

They took a few corners too tightly and tripped over each other as they raced through the halls. They shoved and they bared their teeth playfully energized by their sudden luck. 

Spring was in the air, and Kaer Morhen was filled with a spark of joy not often found in its halls. 

Chapter Text

Tais-toi Mon Cœur (by Dionysos)

“I don’t think you’re gonna get any taller mate.”

“Gonna stay the runt of the litter forever.”

“Little pup’s all bark and no bite.”

Snarling like a wounded animal in a trap, Lambert bared his long canines at the three older boys. All the other trainees had shot up like weeds after the trial of the grasses. Though Lambert was not a small boy, he was still the shortest in his ‘class’, and even he was starting to worry he would never get taller. 

That being said, there was no way he would ever let anyone bully him.

Channeling his fury into a deep growl, Lambert gnashed his teeth at the older boys. Though his height was lagging behind, his teeth had come in strong and sharp. The development had been incredibly painful, but Lambert was proud that his fangs were far more impressive than most the other boys. 

He kept the fact that he had spent many a night whimpering in pain in Geralt and Eskel’s room buried safely in his chest.

“What’re you gonna do? It’s three on one and you’ve got your back to the wall Lamb?”

Snarling, Lambert evaluated the situation at hand carefully. Having his back against the wall was actually more of a blessing than the older boys thought. He would much rather have a wall against his back than have it open. It still did not take away from the fact that the three boys were older than him by a season or two.

Without hesitation, Lambert lunged forward striking out towards two of the boys with Aard and sinking his fangs into the third boy mercilessly. The blood leaking between his teeth was warm and made Lambert want to spit, but he knew better than to let go. He had to get his opponents down before they could get him.

The boy Lambert had latched onto howled in pain, his voice carrying sharply through the courtyard, and the other two boys groaned stunned by the blast of Aard. Lambert tipped himself forward still latched onto his opponent and growled furiously. He would take the boys arm clean off, he would make everyone here think twice about picking on him.

He would make Vesemir regret ever dragging him away from his mother.

“Lambert! Let him go right now! Let him go or I’ll be forced to Axii you!”

Lambert’s teeth scraped against… something, he did not want to think about what, but he pulled back as quickly as he could. Knowing he was pushing his luck, he lunged down at the boy who whimpered pitifully.

“Lambert! I won’t tell you again.”

Shaking himself and clenching his fists to try to ground himself, Lambert stepped back and followed Vesemir’s command to stand behind him.

“What the hell is going on here? If you’ve got enough energy to fight like this you’ve got energy to get proper work done.”

“They attacked me first! Came up and cornered me. I was defending myself!”

Lambert took a step forward but halted when Vesemir gave him a look. Ducking his head, Lambert let his eyes fall to the ground as a show of submission. Vesemir was pissed, really pissed, and Lambert was not quite sure how things would play out. 

“Is that true? Did you three corner him?”

The two boys who had been hit with Aard started babbling nearly incoherently over each other before one of them finally got a proper word in edgewise.

“We were just playin! Lambert took it too far. He-”

“Enough!”

The third boy moaned gripping onto his arm with tears flowing down his face. Lambert wanted nothing more than to spit on him, but he turned his head to the side and spat on the grass instead. 

The taste of blood was still in his mouth. 

“You two go to Leon. No, not a word. You’re lucky I don’t tan your hides here and now.”

Lambert watched as the boys scurried off, and he hoped that Leon was in a particularly foul mood that day. The trainees called Leon ‘The Bear’ behind his back. He was large, hairy, and grumpy, and there were a very select few people he actually liked. If you messed up and wanted to break the news gently, everyone knew to bring him honey. His sweet tooth was well known, and his love for bees and his hive made sure his nickname stuck.

“Can you stand boy?”

Still bleeding, the boy struggled to stand and shook pitifully once he had his feet underneath him. Vesemir turned his back on the boy and stared Lambert down. Lambert ducked his head only glancing at the older man from the corners of his eyes.

“What were you doing out here?”

Annoyed at Vesemir’s accusatory tone, Lambert raised his head but dropped it quickly when he saw a flash of filed down teeth. Huffing and spitting again, Lambert pointed at the crumpled fabric on the ground. 

“It’s almost Eskel’s birthday. Geralt’s better at making embroidery thread, but I’m better at embroidery. It’s easier to hide out here, Eskel will waste all his time looking for me in the lab or something, he wouldn’t expect me to be out here.”

There was not a hint of embarrassment in Lambert’s tone. He was extremely proud of his handiwork. Lambert was the best at embroidery, which translated extremely well to his sewing, and even better to his ability to sew up wounds. His mother had been a seamstress, and Lambert knew that silly ladies and lovesick men would pay a pretty penny for embroidered handkerchiefs and clothes for weddings and special occasions. When he was released out on the path, he knew he had a little hobby that would bring him extra coin when an area might be thin on monsters.

Walking over to the fabric, Vesemir picked it up holding onto the embroidery hoop carefully and inspecting Lambert’s handiwork.

“Wipe you face Lambert. Go to my study and wait for me there.”

Lambert wanted to object, wanted to howl and gnash his teeth and snarl, but Vesemir flashed his teeth, the filed down canines no less threatening, and Lambert shrank. If he was bigger, if he was taller and his knees were not so knobby and he was more filled out, he would have a chance against Vesemir.

Vesemir had the upper hand from the moment he dragged a malnourished Lambert kicking and screaming from his home.

Taking the embroidery that Vesemir held out for him gently, Lambert wiped his face on his sleeve and flashed his teeth one last time at the other boy before hightailing it to Vesemir’s study. Once there, Lambert placed his embroidery down gently and began to pace. The space was not big, but it was not small enough to feel claustrophobic.

Time carried on, and eventually Lambert was bored enough that he threw himself down into a chair and picked up his embroidery.

Things had been difficult after the trial of the grasses. Lambert felt like he lost control of his hands after everything, and it made his anger flare up even more than usual. His eyes, now able to see in lower light and so much more sharply, were perfect for picking out different patterns well into the night. The problem was his fingers just did not feel… right. 

His fingers felt like sausages, and for a few weeks he could barely pick out basic patterns. He tore fabric without meaning to and broke thread constantly. Worse, the texture of certain materials drove him nearly to madness. Lambert only used embroidery thread made by Geralt and the instructor Vaseli. Everyone else spun their thread too coarsely, it felt like sandpaper against his fingers. 

Vaseli was quite fond of Lambert, and so he was the first one to notice that something about the fabrics they wore and worked with was agitating Lambert’s skin. He called Lambert into his office and told him to trade out whatever clothes were too itchy or made his skin crawl with something he could wear without agitation. Lambert had repaid Vaseli by brewing a few potions and bombs for him and leaving them conveniently on his desk.

Gently going about his work, Lambert looked down at the little corn poppy and ran his thumb over it lost in thought. He remembered his mother fondly, though he refused to talk to anyone about her. At one time he was filled with anger when he thought of her. He often asked how she could be so weak, how she could let his father beat them, how she could let Vesemir take him away.

He was older now though, and he knew that was not how the world worked. Good people did not automatically get the good they deserved in the world. He could only hope that his mother was alright now.

The sound of boots striking stone rang loudly down the hall, and Lambert sat stiffly in his chair keeping his eyes down on his work. He knew Vesemir was giving him the chance to gather himself, the old man had a soft heart even when he was tanning their hides.

Lambert began on another flower, and he did not raise his head when Vesemir opened the door. Even after the older man crossed the room to sit behind his desk, Lambert still kept his head down as if he did not notice, the flower bloomed quickly under his hand.

“You nearly broke his arm.”

“Good, it’ll teach him to gang up on people.”

Vesemir sighed, and Lambert bit his tongue. There was so much… feeling inside of him. Sometimes it felt overwhelming, and Lambert often wondered if the mutations amplified his emotions along with his strength. 

“Piotr threatened to file your fangs.”

Lambert immediately raised his head and looked deep into Vesemir’s golden eyes. This was no empty threat, Piotr had threatened, and if Vesemir was telling him then…

“He wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t let him, neither would Janek. Vaseli would protest as well.”

Vesemir sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was old, far older than he looked, and on a normal day Lambert enjoyed making him feel even older. Right now though, Lambert hoped that his show of  hubris would mask his fear. Without his fangs well… The next fight he might not be so lucky.

“You wouldn’t be the first Witcher to forcibly have their fangs filed Lambert. Furthermore, considering your… temperament.”

Lambert picked away at his embroidery with his eyes down so as not to feel the full brunt of Vesemir’s displeased gaze.

“If you aren’t careful boy they’ll defang you.”

Shivering, Lambert immediately looked at Vesemir’s serious face. This was not a joke or idle threat. All of the boys knew that being defanged was incredibly painful. You could be numbed with certain potions sure, but you still had to grow a new set in. Some unfortunate boys had to have their fangs pulled because they came in wrong. They were told that the pain now would be better than pain on the path later. There were only two boys Lambert knew of who were forcibly defanged. 

One of them was dead now and the other, well… no one liked to talk about him.

“I’m not telling you to run away Lambert. I’m not asking you to be diplomatic either. What I am asking is that if this kind of situation crops up again try to find a less… destructive answer. Striking first isn’t always the best. You must learn patience.”

Lambert wanted to protest, but he honestly saw the point Vesemir was making. Lambert had a bad habit of striking first and striking hard. Patience was not a virtue he had been bestowed with, Eskel constantly laughed at him about it, and even Geralt got that sparkle in his eyes that said he was laughing as well.

“I’ll… try.”

Nodding his head, Vesemir sighed and sank comfortably into his chair.

“I won’t ask for anything more than that from you Lambert.”

Lambert waited for Vesemir to waive him away like he usually did before making his way to the door. Hand on the knob, he was just about to make a swift exit when he heard Vesemir clear his throat.

“Oh and Lambert…”

Turning back, Lambert looked at Vesemir with unease as the old man smiled.

“It seems your Aard is improving. Maybe don’t spend so much time in the lab. If you practiced more you’d be able to hone it even further.”

Rolling his eyes and groaning exasperatedly, Lambert shut the door quickly behind him and snuck off towards the bedroom he shared with Geralt and Eskel. He could not help smiling a little dumbly even as he tried to figure out the best way to hide his work from Eskel’s sharp eyes.

Chapter Text

Brothers Under the Sun (from Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron)

Fumbling, Geralt snorted as the horse brush clattered to the ground.

“Sorry Pumpkin.”

The horse turned her head before snorting in return and asking for her muzzle to be pet. Geralt smiled giving Pumpkin her fill of attention before shoving his face in her neck. 

There was something so calming about being around horses. 

Horses never asked Geralt to talk, they never yelled at him or raised their voice, they were just comforting and wanted comfort in return. Most the horses in the stables loved him, and more than once when he was in a rush Geralt had to double back and close a gate to ensure they did not follow him back into the keep.

Pumpkin was a bay Silesian and Geralt’s favorite. 

She was born in Kaer Morhen, and Geralt desperately wished that he was a little bit older so he could be the one to take her out on the path. As it was, there was no doubt that she would go out with someone when the Spring came. Geralt rubbed his cheek on her neck not letting the emotions well up. 

No doubt she would meet her end before he could beg for her to be released back to him.

Sighing, Geralt went back to brushing Pumpkin down. He had saved her for last, and if he finished too soon he knew someone would just give him more chores to do.

The tranquility was broken, as it often was, by shouting.

Pumpkin turned her head towards the noise, ears pricked, and Geralt tried to hone his own hearing to figure out what was going on. The sound of laughter at least told him that whatever was going on was not too serious.

Placing the brush down and rubbing Pumpkin affectionately, Geralt made his way towards the western gate of the horse pen. 

Pumpkin followed Geralt at a leisurely pace.

Stepping up to the gate, Geralt watched as his brothers tumbled in the grass and dirt. Eskel was stronger than Lambert, but Lambert was hard to grasp on to. Every time Eskel finally flipped Lambert onto his back and bared his fangs, Lambert squirmed and yipped toppling the larger boy over. The tussle was interspersed by Lambert’s laughter which was quite a surprise. 

The younger boy rarely laughed so freely.

“Quit laughing!”

Eskel sounded legitimately annoyed, and Lambert stifled his laugh for only a moment before he burst out laughing again. 

“What’re you guys doing?”

Eskel was rarely mad, and Geralt figured he better step in before Lambert got his throat ripped out.

“Eskel’s voice cracked!”

Lambert’s momentary lapse in attention gave Eskel the opening he needed to finally pin Lambert down and with a snarl, Eskel bared his teeth. He would never go so far as to let his teeth go near Lambert’s throat, but he definitely got his point across. 

Lambert was sufficiently intimidated and went limp to show Eskel that he was done causing trouble.

“It can’t have been that bad.”

Geralt scratched his neck and turned when Pumpkin came a bit closer to take in the commotion. Eskel, seemingly losing all his steam, let go of Lambert and rolled over on to the grass lying spread-eagle. 

“I sound like an idiot.”

Eskel spoke slowly and was obviously trying to regulate his voice as best he could. 

“Can’t sound worse than Igor.”

All three boys snorted in derision. Igor was an asshole, and Geralt was constantly fielding the other boys quote-on-quote ‘jokes’. Igor was lucky that last time he said something stupid a tutor had been around.

“No one sounds worse than Igor but it’s… bad.”

Shrugging, Geralt looked at Lambert as he slowly got up, wiped himself off, and offered his hand to Eskel.

“It really wasn’t that bad Eskel, promise. I was just laughing to rile you up.”

As soon as Eskel was up, Lambert fidgeted a bit and looked towards Geralt. Geralt, in return, looked meaningfully between the two knowing that his brothers knew him well enough to get his point without words.

Lambert was prickly and kind of a dick, but a firm look from someone he trusted and he would fold like a house of cards.

“Also… I’m sorry Eskel. I shouldn’t’ve laughed. I was just trying to get your mind off it promise.”

Geralt could not help but smile and watch as Eskel sighed deeply rolling his eyes.

“I forgive you you annoying asshole. Try to find another way to console people though yeah? I swear, you’ve got no manners. It’s like we’re raising a wild animal.”

“Worse than a wild animal, at least wild animals eventually stop trying to bite you.”

Geralt let himself smile fully at Eskel, and Lambert scowled sourly at them both flipping them the bird.

“I changed my mind, I hate you both.”

Eskel and Geralt laughed, and Lambert joined in unable to help himself.

It was nice, Geralt thought, having this little family. 

The trial of the grasses was hard, and the second round of mutations were harder. Geralt sometimes felt like he had to spit out words. He felt like everything that touched him hurt his bones. Sometimes he felt like being around the other trainees was like being crushed under an ocean wave. 

It was all so overwhelming, and the smells, the sounds, the lights would press him further and further to the ocean floor.

Having his brothers was like a fresh breath of Spring air. Sure, sometimes they annoyed the hell out of him. Sometimes they pushed too much. No matter what though, on the days when things were too much he could always depend on them. 

On days Geralt woke up and could not speak, Eskel would speak for him. Lambert made up fingers signs so Geralt would not have to mime what he wanted or frustratedly give up. More than once they had traded chores so Geralt could spend his time taking care of the horses away from everyone else. 

Geralt always tried to pay them back as best as he could, but he wished he could do more. 

“Quit sulking, I hate when you get sulky.”

Lambert rolled his eyes mockingly and put his hands on his hips.

“I’m Geralt and I’m so dour. Look at my black clothing, I enjoy being morose.”

Lambert’s voice was not as deep as Geralt’s, but his facial expressions were spot on. Eskel had to hide his laughter behind his hand, and Lambert smiled egging the situation on.

“Don’t make me come through this gate Lambert.”

“If you open the gate Pumpkin’ll get out.”

Feeling something coil in his chest like a spring, Geralt put his hands on the gate and immediately Lambert started laughing before taking off at a sprint. Geralt jumped the gate and chased Lambert, the two boys tripping over themselves in their rush around the green space. Eskel yelled encouragement behind them, and at one point even Pumpkin nickered throwing her head.

When Geralt finally got his hands on Lambert, the two wrestled in the grass rolling this way and that. Neither one of them growled or flashed their teeth, too busy laughing despite themselves. Eskel, not interested in the chase but always down for a friendly tussle, threw himself on them once he caught up and their laughter carried over the hill.

It took awhile before they tired, but when Geralt finally threw himself down on his back in the grass he smiled. His heart rate was accelerated but his chest felt light. He wished he could just lay out here in the sun forever. Just lazing about with his brothers while the world passed them by.

“I heard that we’re having fasolka po bretońsku with kielbasa for dinner tonight.”

Eskel sighed dreamily to Geralt’s left, and the three boys tried their best to pick up any kind of scent on the breeze. They were fed at regular intervals, but it just never felt like enough. One of the nice things about the mutations was more stuff became edible to them. As soon as this fact was explained, all of the trainees took advantage of it. 

“I wish we had piernik.”

Lambert loved piernik, and he often traded or gambled with the other boys on the very rare occasions dinner came with a dessert.

“I remember I had a paczki once. I want those, with strawberry jam.”

Eskel did not remember a lot about home, but somehow he remembered a lot of foods. The jelly donut had been for some kind of festival, all he knew was that he had never had anything that tasted better.

“What about you Geralt? If you could have anything what would you eat?”

Geralt thought carefully putting his hand on his stomach and watching a bird fly overhead. 

“I want some golabki. Golabki and then a thick slice of bread with butter and jam for dessert.”

Lambert and Eskel nodded their heads sagely in agreement. Geralt’s mouth was watering, and he sighed thinking of the time. 

“Let’s stop talking about food. Dinner is still awhile off.”

“Are you done with your chores? Maybe we can see if we can forage for something.”

Eskel made a great point, and Geralt got up helping his brothers up. 

“I’ve gotta put Pumpkin out with the other horses first. I’ll be right back.”

Excited, Lambert and Eskel started chattering about what grew around Kaer Morhen this time of year while Geralt made his way back to the gate.

“Pumpkin! Ready to go to the big field?”

Pumpkin flickered her ears forward and nickered happily following without prompting as Geralt walked her back to her field.