Chapter Text
Two red Toyota Hiluxes plowed through the dense snowstorm, their headlights struggling to illuminate the path ahead. In these conditions, the task seemed nearly impossible. Visibility was reduced to few meters. Dawn had yet to break, and all we could see was the relentless snowfall... and darkness. I felt trapped, as if the snow around us had formed an impenetrable wall. A wall that only allowed us to drive forward.
The interior of the vehicle was adapted for transporting the injured, rescuers, and medical equipment. The doors opened from the back, similar to regular ambulances. I sat in the rear on the right side, securely fastened, yet still gripping a special handrail tightly. My back pressed against the side of the truck as I tried to steady my breathing. Beside me, Syanna mirrored my posture, also holding onto an additional support bar.
On the bench opposite us lay medical bags and specialized rescue equipment: ropes, harnesses, and various other tools. Everything was properly secured and fastened with straps. In the middle, between the seats, there was enough space on the floor to accommodate a stretcher with wounded person. For a brief moment, as light from the vehicle behind us spilled in, I caught a glimpse of a red stretcher carrying a small girl. I averted my gaze, tightening my grip on the handrail.
Up front, in the commander's seat, Roche was leaning forward, communicating with headquarters via radio. He peered intently at the road ahead. I was certain he couldn't see anything, but he had to do something. Adrenaline was coursing through our veins. Eskel's hands clenched nervously on the steering wheel as he fought to maintain control of the vehicle.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind violently shook the truck. In that moment, I thought we might never make it back to base. Memories of all the tragic accidents involving rescue workers flashed through my mind. I knew that grim chronicle by heart. Our unit had always been the safest. Our area of operations covered the southern part of the Kestrel Mountains , and honestly? It wasn't particularly demanding terrain. Numerous rock formations, mainly limestone, which gave climbers a wealth of possibilities, were interspersed with caves—both large and small. Such terrain meant that we most often responded to falls from climbing walls or in caves. I'm not saying none of these missions ended tragically, but usually it was one or two fatalities a year. The bus accident we were now heading to could result in a much worse toll.
The further north we went, the more diverse and challenging the terrain became. It was there, still in Redania, that the second rescue group from Eredath operated. The Glenelg River formed a natural boundary between our area of operations and their unit's operational zone. Despite this division, we often collaborated with the rescuers from Eredath, supporting and helping each other in more difficult operations. In their area, small hills grew increasingly higher, eventually transforming into small but picturesque mountain ranges. The highest peak in their region, known as "Great Owl," stood at 1,402 meters above sea level. It wasn't an impressive height compared to other mountains further north, but the mountain had its charm and was the highest peak in our country.
The Kestrel Mountains formed a natural border between Redania, Hengfors and Kaedwen. It was in Kaedwen that the small mountain ranges transformed into increasingly higher mountains. The highest peak in the range, “Great Kestrel” rose to over three thousand meters and posed quite a challenge, even for experienced climbers. Falls from such heights rarely ended with only minor injuries. Unfortunately, they often had tragic consequences.
One of the greatest threats faced by the Kaedwen group was avalanches. During my candidacy service, I participated in training with their rescuers. Those experiences were deeply etched in my memory.
Suddenly the radio crackled, snapping me out of my thoughts. I could hear Philippa's voice, but I couldn't understand a word she was saying. I was glad I wasn't in command of this operation. If the situation was as serious as the dispatcher had suggested, we were facing the most difficult and dangerous mission in our history—certainly in my career.
"What's the status, Roche?" Eskel called out, his eyes never leaving the treacherous road ahead.
Roche's brow furrowed as he listened intently to the radio. "It's bad," he replied grimly. "The bus went off the road near Vernskall. At least thirty passengers, maybe more. Multiple injuries reported, severity unknown."
Syanna let out a soft curse beside me. I shared her sentiment. It was going to be a long, exhausting day.
"ETA?" I managed to ask, my voice sounded strange even to my own ears.
"Fifteen minutes, if this blasted weather holds," Roche answered, his tone clipped. "Brace yourselves. This isn't going to be pretty."
As if to emphasize his point, another gust of wind buffeted our vehicle. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what was to come. We were Mountain Rescue, after all. This was what we trained for. This was what we lived for.
But as the wind howled and the snow continued to fall, I couldn't shake the feeling that this mission might be the one that pushed us beyond our limits.
The vehicle jolted over a bump. Instinctively, I reached out with both hands to grasp the handrail on my right. I watched as Eskel gripped the steering wheel tightly, releasing it only for a moment to change gears. In the mirror, I could see his face. He was focused, tension twisting his mouth into a strange grimace. The mirror was fogged up, as were all the windows in the car.
I nervously glanced at Pontar. My Swiss Shepherd looked unnaturally inside the vehicle. His white fur gleamed brighter than the snow outside, and the red vest on his back stood out starkly against the surroundings. The dog seemed to ignore me, which was extremely unusual. I am his handler. He wouldn't do anything without me. He sat staring at a single point in front of him, looking like a statue.
I wanted to touch him, but at that moment, the car came to an abrupt halt. Roche shouted something, and he and the driver got out of the car. I could see them, but the entire image was blurry. I looked through the window—nothing—just a white wall.
"Stay, Pontar," I said, but the dog didn't react.
I could feel adrenaline pulsing through my veins, my heart pounding wildly. I didn't have time to ponder the dog's behavior now. Let him stay in the car. I reached for my medical backpack and jumped out of the vehicle right after Syanna.
The ground beneath my feet was unstable. Snow and ice gave the impression of walking on something liquid and surreal. The wind hit me in the face. I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself and pulled the hood over my head as I walked towards the guys.
"Accide... bus fell... road..." The radio crackled, attached to my jacket pocket. I could barely hear anything besides the whistling and howling of the wind.
Two rescuers stood at the top of the slope, looking down at the wreckage of the bus. I ran up to them quickly and felt a wave of nausea. The sight was much worse than I had expected. The bus lay on its side, partially suspended over a precipice, its rear section crushed by a fallen tree. Suddenly, I noticed how many trees and broken branches were around. I cursed under my breath; it was damn dangerous.
"Fuck," I heard a voice from my right; Eskel had approached. His face was strangely blurry. I glanced quickly at the other rescuers. They seemed odd too. In the distance, I could hear the sirens of other units coming to us.
"Listen up, let's get to work," Roche's voice echoed in my head, I heard it as if through a wall. I glanced at him. He was standing just two meters away.
What the fuck?
I thought and took a deep breath. I felt like the cold air would burst my lungs.
"Chireadan and Yennefer, take care of the casualties outside the bus. Chireadan, check the area; Yennefer, start triage. The rest secure the bus until the firefighters arrive," the voice was still coming from behind a wall, but I nodded, looking for Chireadan. I couldn't see him. "Use those trees and attach ropes to them. No one goes down without a belay."
Running to the car for equipment, I heard screams and cries from below. I swallowed hard and tried to focus on the task at hand. Only our calm can save these people.
I returned to the spot where we had just been standing. Chireadan was already rappelling down on a rope to a wounded person—I had no idea when he had managed to do that. I jumped into a harness, attached the rope to a tree, and started down the slope. The cold penetrated through thick layers of clothing. I could feel my fingers stiffening, barely gripping the rope. The snow was heavy and wet—it quickly caked onto my boots and pants. Descending in these conditions proved much more difficult than I had anticipated.
Halfway down, I heard a terrifying sound—the screech of metal against rock. The bus shifted slightly, and the people inside started screaming. The commander was shouting something to them from above. I couldn't understand the words. I could only hear the wind and my own heartbeat.
With each step down the slope, the snow deepened. I had no idea when it happened, but now I stood with my legs buried almost to my knees. Not even two meters away lay a woman. She looked as if she were floating on the snow, as if she weighed nothing. It was surreal. With difficulty, I dug my legs out of the white fluff and fell to my knees beside her.
She was very young, maybe twenty years old. Her face was dirty and she had a lot of scratches. Her blue eyes were icy, but she moved them, watching my every move. I spoke calmly to her; she did not reply. I could see, however, that she was still watching and understanding me. I arranged her in a safe position, decongesting her airway. I took a red armband out of my bag and put it on her shoulder.
As I worked, the howling wind seemed to fade into the background. My training took over, my movements becoming methodical and precise. But a part of my mind couldn't help but wonder: how many more were trapped in the bus? How long did we have before the weather or the precarious position of the vehicle made our job impossible?
I pushed these thoughts aside. One patient at a time. That's all I could do. That's all any of us could do. And somehow, it had to be enough.
Out of nowhere, a mountain rescue stretcher - specialist equipment for these difficult conditions - materialised. I looked up but saw no one to send them. The air above us shimmered with an eerie blue glow, the lights of the rescue vehicles reflected off the jagged rocks and sheer snow. Other units must have arrived, I thought. On closer inspection, I noticed that the stretcher was attached to a nearby tree by a purple rope. My own rope had disappeared. Although I was still wearing my harness, every carabiner was gone. "Damn it all," I hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the frustration and anxiety growing inside me. Everything around me seemed to be happening in a parallel universe, as if I was trapped in another dimension.
"Yennefer, report to Montecalvo Central," Philippa's voice crackled through the radio with startling clarity. I reached for the device. "Reporting in," I responded tersely.
"Syanna refused to enter the bus and evacuate the injured. Switch places with her. She'll handle the wounded outside." A wave of anger washed over me. Why was I hearing this from Philippa? Roche was supposed to be in command.
"Understood," I replied, closing my eyes in resignation. When I opened them again, I nearly plummeted into the abyss below. I found myself standing before the mangled bus, its shattered windshield forming a treacherous entrance. Caught off guard by the sudden change in my surroundings, I stumbled, barely managing to grasp... a rope? My gaze followed its length—it was tied to a tree. Quickly scanning the area, I spotted Syanna and another rescuer securing my previous patient onto a stretcher. A cry of confusion escaped my lips as I fell to my knees.
What on earth was happening?
"Stop yelling and get inside!" a firefighter shouted, snapping me back to reality. I followed him into the wreckage, carefully avoiding the sharp glass shards protruding like fangs from the window frames. The bus interior was tilted at such a severe angle that it resembled a steep climbing wall more than a vehicle. The air inside was thick with dust and the metallic scent of blood. Darkness engulfed us, broken only by slivers of light filtering through the shattered windows.
"Here," a weak, trembling voice somehow broke through the chaos. I turned towards the sound. In the back of the coach sat a young woman, trapped by the crushed seats that had formed a cage around her body. Suddenly it was very bright. Her face was smeared with dirt and her eyes were wide with terror. Next to her, on the floor of the bus, lay a small child. My heart squeezed at this sight. The child was motionless, more like an abandoned doll than a living being.
Triage... Yennefer, triage...
The thought pounded in my head, reminding me of my duty. Yet my body, defying logic, drew me towards the woman and child. I felt as if I were moving through a narrow tunnel, each step more challenging than the last. Though the bus interior theoretically offered ample space, I was overwhelmed by a suffocating sensation, as if the walls were closing in around me. The air remained thick and oppressive.
The sight of the helpless child made my heart constrict with pain. For a split second, I imagined it could have been Ciri... The thought nearly paralyzed me with fear. I quickly forced myself to push those emotions aside. I knew I had to remain calm and focused; it was the only way I could help the victims.
"What's your name?" I asked as I finally reached the woman.
"Maria," she replied, her voice quavering. "My little girl... I don't know if she's breathing..."
I leaned towards the girl, who could not have been more than six years old. I quickly checked her pulse and found that her heart was beating but her breathing was weak. To make matters worse, she was wearing only a thin shirt and trousers and her body temperature was dropping at an alarming rate. I carefully arranged her on one of the broken seats in a safe position. Noticing a passenger bag nearby, I searched through it and found a thick, soft blanket. It was very strange, but without hesitation I wrapped the baby in it.
"Roche, come in!" I called into the radio. Silence. "I have an injured child requiring immediate evacuation. Early signs of hypothermia, unconscious. Weak pulse and breathing." Still nothing but static. "Can anyone hear me? Roche! Chireadan!" I slammed my hand against the seat in frustration. "Montecalvo Central, respond to Yennefer."
The continued silence was maddening. I felt a surge of anger and helplessness wash over me. The world around me seemed to blur and distort, leaving me standing there, bewildered.
This must be a nightmare, I thought.
I rechecked the girl's condition and turned back to the woman, but she had vanished. In the distance, I saw two firefighters carrying someone out on a rescue board.
"Wait!" I shouted, but they didn't react. I stumbled after them, fighting my way through the maze of seats and scattered luggage. The wind howled through the bus, perhaps drowning out my voice. Suddenly, I felt something grip my leg. I glanced down but saw nothing.
Without warning, a deafening crackle pierced the air. A huge branch, laden with snow, hit the bus, crushing the roof and covering the interior. Voices echoed in my head, forcing me to cover my ears. Feeling small and vulnerable, I curled up on the floor, hiding behind the seat. The cold was unbearable, seeping into my bones.
Shattered wood blocked my escape route. The impact had caused the bus to slide further down the slope. I struggled to my feet, clinging to the seats for support. I desperately needed warmth before hypothermia set in. In a flash, I remembered the chemical heat packs in my backpack. But as I reached for it, I realized my back was bare. I glanced towards the girl, hoping I'd left it near her, but found nothing but passengers' bags.
Lifting my head, I froze. In the last seat sat my dog. "Pontar?" I whispered terrified. "Get out of here! Run away!" But instead of running away, he howled, staring at the blanket-covered girl. The sound that came out was not his voice, not his howl. It was a terrifying noise that seemed to squeeze my heart and blow my skull apart. I trembled violently, but no longer from the cold. Definitely not from the cold. The girl...
I approached her, checking her pulse by slipping my hand under the blanket to shield her from the frigid air. Her tiny heart still beat. I looked up. Pontar barked, and at that very moment, the girl stirred. With mounting dread, I watched as she slowly turned her head, her gaze locking onto mine.
"Mum?" Her voice was barely a whisper, echoing hauntingly inside my head.
Her big green eyes bore into mine, paralysing me with fear. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't even think. Tears streamed down my cheeks, leaving burning marks on my skin. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by an overwhelming heat. I had no idea what was happening.
"Mum!" Her soft voice transformed into a piercing scream. I could see the blood running down her forehead. I had blood on my hands. The heat was unbearable now. I felt like I was on fire.
"Ciri..." I whispered, reaching out towards her face with trembling fingers. "My little Swallow..."
"Mummy!" she called out again, standing up abruptly. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She stretched her bloody hands towards me, her face twisted with pain but her eyes blazing with rage. As she placed her hands on my shoulders, I felt her fingers pierce through my clothes, burning my skin. The pain was excruciating. Once again I felt like I was being consumed by fire. She shook me violently. "Wake up!"
Yennefer's eyes snapped open as she bolted upright in bed. Ciri's hands rested on her shoulders, and a radiant smile illuminated the girl's face.
"Didn't you hear the alarm clock?" Ciri asked cheerfully. "Pontar even barked once, but I think he remembered he's not supposed to do that indoors." She giggled, reaching down to stroke the dog's head. Pontar sat obediently by the bed, his muzzle resting against her knee.
Suddenly, Ciri tilted her head, her expression shifting to concern. "Are you all right, Mum?"
Yennefer swiped her hands across her face and drew in a deep breath.
"Yes, darling. I had... a strange dream," Yennefer said, her lips curving into a crooked smile.
"Bus accident again?" Ciri asked quietly.
Yennefer nodded and opened her arms. Ciri immediately threw herself into the embrace, and they held each other tightly for a moment. Yennefer kissed the top of her daughter's head and asked, "How much time do we have?"
"About fifteen minutes now," Ciri said softly as she pulled away. "I made you some coffee, but I think I should pour it into a thermal mug, huh?" Yennefer smiled at her daughter and nodded. "Alright then, get up now Mum." The girl stood up and, with a little hop, ran to the door.
"Ciri..." The girl paused in the doorway, looking back at her mother in surprise. "Thank you, and... I love you. You know that, right?"
"I know, Mummy. I love you too," she laughed and left.
Yennefer collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion washing over her. With a heavy sigh, she covered her face with a pillow, desperate to shut out the world for a few more moments. The nightmares that plagued her were becoming increasingly unbearable. Though the bus accident had occurred two months ago, it continued to haunt her dreams.
As always, she analyzed the situation. They had been through it all as a team, discussing every aspect of the rescue operation multiple times. Each time, they reached the same conclusion—they had done everything in their power. Most of the passengers had been rescued, given a chance to return to their normal lives...
Suddenly, a warm, moist touch on her neck startled her. Pontar had jumped onto the bed, gently nudging her with his nose as if sensing her distress. His presence had an immediate calming effect.
"I'm coming, I'm getting up now," she murmured, reaching out to stroke the dog's head. Under this simple gesture, she felt the tension slowly ebb from her body.
She rubbed her face again, trying to banish the last remnants of sleep. In her mind, she recited the facts that had helped her stay grounded: They had saved everyone with even a glimmer of hope. They had done everything humanly possible.
But somewhere deep inside, despite these rational arguments, Yennefer still carried the painful burden of the accident. The image of the six-year-old girl who could not be saved came back again and again. This memory, sharp as a shard of glass, remained deep in her heart.
I have drawn a map of Redania to make it easier for you to imagine the area. I have modelled it on maps available on the internet, but I have still adapted it for myself and for this story.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Thanks for all the comments and Kudos under the previous chapter. It really means a lot to me!
It's a lot of fun for me to write this, but translating it is a bit.... stressful.
Still, I'm trying, and I hope there aren't too many mistakes and everything is fairly understandable.
I love writing dialogues and there are some in this chapter.Enjoy reading and I look forward to your feedback!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
May this year was exceptionally warm and sunny. Juicy green replaced the winter grayness, and the increasingly long days became bright and warm. After a cold winter, everyone was looking forward to such a beautiful spring.
People were eager to leave their homes for walks and bike rides. The mountain trails were filled with hikers of all ages. Unfortunately, this beautiful weather also had its bad side—the number of accidents in the mountains increased significantly, and rescuers had their hands full.
Yennefer drove Ciri to school. On the way to work, she sipped cold coffee, trying to fight off the remnants of sleep. The recurring nightmare, as always, left her feeling heavy and dull. At home, she'd barely had time to throw on her clothes. She just grabbed her bag and coffee and quickly left the house.
Now, running up the stairs to the station's terrace, she desperately wanted at least a brief moment in the shower before her shift began.
She turned on the faucet and icy water ran down her body. The feeling was unpleasant at first. She focused on her breathing and felt the fatigue slowly leave her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax for a while. She continued to breathe slowly, feeling her muscles relax and her mind clear of the memories of last night's nightmare. She wanted to stay here longer, but knew that at any moment the alarm could snatch her from this blissful state.
The spacious women's bathroom was very elegant, clean, and… empty. Yennefer enjoyed this moment of peace and quiet. There weren't many women working in the MCRS, but there were as many as three on her shift. That was a lot, in truth.
Yennefer believed that the fundamental difference between a male and female rescuer was a matter of strength. Men were stronger and that was not in dispute. Other than that, she didn't notice any major differences. In addition, Philippa, as chief of her shift, had strongly developed the unit. She was the right person for the right job.
When she entered the room, she greeted Syanna, who was sitting on the windowsill as usual, engrossed in her phone. The younger woman had been on candidate duty for four months and, as the second female rescuer on shift, they shared a room. Philippa, with her new position, was given her own office.
"You smell beautiful," Syanna remarked, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile.
Yennefer sighed, tossing her bag onto a shelf. The sight of the soft pillow and quilt roused her fatigue for a moment.
"I overslept," she confessed, and a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment colored her voice. "I barely managed to drop Ciri off at school."
"It's good that you managed to take a shower," Syanna remarked, her smile not disappearing from her face. "No one will suspect that you've been partying all night."
Yennefer turned around slowly, trying to hold back a slight smile. She raised her eyebrows, looking at her with embarrassment, and shook her head. She put her phone in her pocket.
"Shall we go? If we're late, Philippa will give us a really special speech about punctuality…"
"That would be fun," Syanna laughed, jumping down from the windowsill. "Where's Pontar?" she asked suddenly, looking around in surprise.
"How perceptive you are, Anna," replied Yennefer, deliberately using a name that the other woman disliked. "He's already waiting in the briefing room. You know there's air conditioning. In this heat, Pontar appreciates all comforts."
"He's a smart dog, almost as smart and wonderful as his—"
"Get out already!" Yennefer interrupted her, trying to make her voice sound serious. She was smiling under her breath.
They left the room and headed downstairs together
The day always started the same way. Philippa Eilhart stood in front of everyone, reliably relaying the latest information. The weather, conditions in the mountains, a summary of the previous shift's activities - all of these sounded in her mouth like matters of the utmost importance. In addition to the standard report, Philippa, as always, reminded everyone what they should do in their free time. Today, Yennefer found this extremely annoying - every rescuer was well aware of their duties. Here, something unexpected rarely happened, and even in such situations everyone knew exactly what to do. Unfortunately, procedures were procedures. Philippa liked them; despite their minor limitations, they gave her a sense of control.
Yennefer slumped in her usual spot by the window, fighting to keep her eyes open. The briefing was routine, and she couldn't stop thinking about how much she needed at least an hour of sleep now.
Please, no alarms… not yet.
The briefing came to an end, and the sound of chairs being pushed back filled the room. Yennefer stood up reluctantly, waiting for everyone to leave.
She slowly walked to the door, smiling at her dog. Pontar stood up as soon as he saw Yennefer approaching him.
“You're free.” she said calmly
The dog briefly lifted his head and looked gratefully at his handler. It was hot, and his long fur wasn't making life easier for him. He liked the air-conditioned room almost as much as the duty room.
Yennefer walked quickly down the hallway, heading for the stairs. She was ready for a much-needed nap. For a moment, she was sure her plan had fallen apart. Behind her, she heard a familiar, overly confident voice.
"Yennefer, where are you running off to? Someone waiting for you upstairs?" Philippa stood in the middle of the hallway, that same ambiguous smirk on her face that Yennefer knew all too well.
She turned around, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, my bed, Phil. But if you want, we can share," Yennefer replied, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest.
Philippa chuckled and stepped closer.
"If I had as much free time as you, maybe I'd take you up on that offer," she replied sarcastically. "Some of us have more responsibilities, though."
"Did anyone force you to become a chief?" Yennefer shot back with an ironic smile. "You could've stayed with me on the search team."
The two of them began walking upstairs, side by side.
"I didn't know you missed me so much, Yennefer. That's really sweet," Philippa teased. "Still, some of us have not only responsibilities but also ambitions. I'm not sure you know what that means…"
Yennefer shrugged.
"Well then, I wish you pleasant work, Ms. Ambitious," she stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled overly sweetly. "I'm off to take a nap, had a terrible night." Her smile faded. "If anyone's looking for me, I'm not here. And if you wake me without an emergency, I will kill you…"
"Yes, ma'am," Philippa gave an exaggerated nod with an ironic smile. However, she quickly glanced at her phone and waved her hand, walking in the opposite direction down the hallway.
When Yennefer reached her room, she pulled the curtains closed, took off her shoes and pants, carefully arranging them in a strategic manner—after all, if the alarm went off, she'd need to move quickly.
Sliding under the duvet, she sighed in relief. Let this be a quiet day. She fell asleep almost immediately, knowing that if Philippa didn't disturb her without reason, she might actually catch up on some much-needed rest after the awful night.
Yennefer woke up from her short nap feeling refreshed and ready to work. She got dressed, then grabbed a book and notebook from her desk before leaving the room.
The dining hall was quiet and calm; the rescuers were likely taking advantage of the good weather and working outside. She tossed her book onto one of the four wooden tables, and as she approached the coffee machine, she glanced out the window. The cloudless sky and intense sun felt more like midsummer than early spring. She made herself a coffee and sat at a table near the machine, facing away from the window. The view outside easily distracted her. She enjoyed sitting here, absorbed in her reading and note-taking—it was when she felt she could fully focus on her work.
In front of her was a book on military dog-handling techniques. She was reading and taking notes on how dogs were used in search and rescue operations for injured soldiers or in cases of armed conflict. Although this knowledge wasn't essential for her current job, she thought she might learn something interesting. You never know what might come in handy during an operation.
Working with her dog had become her entire life. Pontar was a member of her small family. Their professional partnership had only recently begun, but Yennefer knew this was exactly what she wanted to do. She was proud of herself and her companion. They had passed their exams with flying colors, and now they formed a rescue team, ready for anything.
She took a sip of hot coffee, glancing at the next paragraphs in the book. She was about to reach for a pen to jot down a few important notes when she heard footsteps and a soft voice coming from the dining room entrance.
"Good morning... Oh, Yennefer! Hi!" The voice belonged to Triss, whose presence always made Yennefer feel strangely uncomfortable. She knew that Triss was Philippa's girlfriend and occasionally visited the unit. Philippa didn't talk about her much, but Yennefer knew her name.
Triss was dressed in an airy, white dress with painted blue flowers. She looked extremely charming. Her chestnut hair fell slightly to her shoulders She always had the impression that Triss' appearance was completely unsuited to her profession.
"Hi, Triss. Are you looking for Philippa?" Yennefer asked, trying to maintain a neutral expression.
"Yes, she's not in her office…" Triss didn't get to finish her sentence. Almost as if sensing her presence, Philippa appeared in the doorway.
“Triss?” Her voice sounded surprised. Yennefer noticed how Triss slightly jumped at the sound of her name. Philippa walked further into the room, Triss followed her.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been calling you all morning,” Triss seemed anxious, her voice uncertain.
“I’ve been busy, you know how work is…”
“Yes, but… do you remember about my article for the competition? I wanted to prepare somehow, but I haven’t gotten any plan or information from you. How am I supposed to write a good piece about your work if I can’t even talk to you properly?” Triss spoke very quickly. The tension between them was palpable, and it was uncomfortable.
“Damn, that competition,” Philippa sighed, drawing out her words exaggeratedly. “Triss, I don’t know if I’ll be able to. Sheala is coming on Saturday, I haven’t seen her in years. And during the week, I’ve got several meetings about the unit’s budget for this year…”
“But you promised me, Phil,” Triss’s voice faltered slightly, which only deepened the discomfort Yennefer felt.
Should I leave?
The question crossed Yennefer’s mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
“Oh, come on, it’s just a competition. Not the first, not the last,” Philippa replied with obvious boredom. “I’ve got a lot on my plate, and this article isn’t urgent. You’re getting too worked up over it.”
“This could be my chance,” stammered Triss, her face slightly red from nervousness, “and it’s about more than that, Phil…”
“More than what?” Philippa seemed completely indifferent, and Yennefer felt something snap inside her. She wanted to step in, to say something biting, but at that moment, Philippa’s phone rang.
Yennefer felt a weight in her chest. She knew Philippa well but was still shocked at how easily she had rejected her girlfriend. She could always count on Phil; they had been work partners for years. She knew that her friend wasn't someone who threw words around carelessly—it could damage her impeccable reputation at work, which she cared about.
She watched as Triss made her way to the door. A strange tightness gripped her stomach—she knew she had to do something. Damn it, she wanted to do something.
"Wait!" she called out before she had a chance to think it through. She stood up abruptly from the table, but in the process, her elbow knocked over the cup. Coffee spilled across the table, soaking her notes. "Fuck!" she hissed, quickly grabbing her book to save it.
Triss stopped and turned around, looking at her with slight surprise. She slowly moved toward her.
“Sorry to intrude, but maybe I can help?” Yennefer offered, seeing Triss’s expression, while setting the book on a shelf by the wall.
Seeing the mess on the table, Triss reached for a paper towel from a nearby shelf and handed it to Yennefer.
“Here you go,” she said with a slight smile, standing on the other side of the table.
“Thanks,” Yennefer muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation. This wasn’t how she had imagined things going. She glanced up at Triss, who had also started wiping up the spilled coffee, and felt a sudden surge of gratitude that she wasn’t left to deal with it alone.
“I’m the one who should apologize,” Triss said, glancing at Yennefer’s soaked notes. “You shouldn’t have had to hear all that. I’ll call Philippa later—maybe we can still sort everything out.”
“Oh right, Philippa is definitely someone easy to work things out with,” Yennefer replied sarcastically, looking at her. She could tell from Triss’s expression that she didn’t believe her own words either. “So, what’s this competition about? Do they have any fun prizes? A week in Toussaint?” She tried to keep her tone light.
Triss stopped wiping up the spilled coffee and looked at her. A slight smile appeared on her face.
“Unfortunately not,” she admitted quietly. “There’s a trip, but to Temeria, for journalism workshops. Nothing exciting.” She sighed, rubbing her neck with her other hand. “Maybe I did get too worked up…”
“You’re giving up too easily,” Yennefer replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.
She noticed Triss looking around the room before picking up a small trash bin and placing it next to the table so they could toss the used towels. Yennefer continued trying to ease the tension hanging in the air. “If I were you, I’d do everything I could to win that competition without Philippa’s help.”
A shadow of a smile crossed Triss’s face, though she still seemed uncertain. Seeing her hesitation, Yennefer pressed on.
“What’s the topic of the article? You’re a journalist, right?” Yennefer asked, looking across the table, noticing Triss’s strikingly intense cornflower blue eyes.
“Yes, but I work for local newspapers, nothing major,” she explained quickly. “The competition is about strong women, and Philippa told me that mountain rescue work is underappreciated. Women don’t have it easy here, but they still choose to work in the field.”
Yennefer sighed and slowly lifted the wet notebook, wrapping it in a thick layer of paper towels. She turned and walked toward the window, placing it on the sunlit windowsill. However, she was sure that the notes would be discardable.
“Would a female rescuer who works with a search and rescue dog be an interesting enough topic?” Yennefer asked, glancing out the window with a slight smile on her face. “Of course, no one compares to our Philippa, but I thought…”
“Wait, wait…” Triss interrupted her. “You have here a woman who works with a dog?”
“Yes,” Yennefer replied, slowly turning around. She walked back to the table and stood closer to Triss this time, leaning on the back of one of the chairs.
“Philippa didn’t even mention that…” Triss wiped the table one last time and looked into Yennefer’s eyes.
“Incredible,” Yennefer pretended to be surprised. “I thought she always talked only about work.”
“Well, yes, but…” Triss looked at her intently. “Do you think you could ask this woman if she’d talk to me? Maybe she could meet with me? I still have a few days, maybe I could write the article on this instead.”
“Sure,” Yennefer replied, pulling her smartphone from one of her pockets. “Give me your number, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much!” Triss looked elated. “Maybe all isn’t lost.”
"As I told you before—you shouldn't give up so quickly…" Yennefer began, but her voice suddenly trailed off.
She heard the soft sound of paws on the tiles, claws tapping rhythmically on the floor. She looked toward the hallway through the door and saw her dog happily making his way toward them. Triss turned to look as well, her eyes widening.
“Oh wow, he’s beautiful!” she said, turning her gaze back to Yennefer. “Does this rescuer work on your shift?”
Yennefer didn’t need to reply. She just rubbed the bridge of her nose at the exact moment the dog entered the room and calmly lay down at her feet, resting his head on her boot.
“Thanks, buddy,” she said softly, looking down at him.
“Don’t tell me you were talking about yourself,” Triss glanced at her with a smile. “Will you agree?”
“I’ll confirm tomorrow,” Yennefer responded evasively, not wanting to agree right away. “I need to check my schedule at home.”
“Sure, I understand,” Triss said, crouching down in front of her and reaching out to the dog.
Pontar suddenly straightened up, sitting upright next to Yennefer’s leg, his posture tense. He was cautious. His reaction caught Triss off guard. The dog sat almost completely still, staring at her intensely. Only when Yennefer sighed and gave him a small nod and subtle hand signal did he lean toward Triss, allowing her to pet him.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” she said, standing up moments later and looking at Yennefer again. “I’ve never interacted with a rescue dog before.”
“Don’t think we’ll be easy company,” Yennefer remarked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Triss just laughed warmly. “You know Philippa, I think I’m used to it.”
Yennefer didn’t want to argue. Philippa was even more specific, so maybe Triss was right.
“Thank you, Yennefer. Really… thank you,” Triss added
“Hold off on the thanks until everything works out. I don't know if...”
“Sure, sure…” Triss interrupted her, her beautiful smile never leaving her face. “Nice meeting you, doggy,” she said to Pontar, then looked back at Yennefer. “We’ll be in touch?”
Yennefer nodded, watching her. Still smiling, Triss turned and left the room. Yennefer let out a loud breath, feeling the tension drain from her body. She slid out the chair she was leaning against and sat down heavily. She looked at Pontar, who was wagging his tail and staring at the spot where Triss had just disappeared.
What am I even doing?
She wondered, running both hands through her hair. She felt uneasy, not because of helping—that was second nature to her—but because of how uncertain she felt around Triss. Though, was "uncertain" the right word? She felt something different. It was strange.
She still needed to think carefully about her offer to help, but the sound of Triss’s disappointed voice kept echoing in her head.
And who am I kidding?
She knew she would do it, even if she didn’t fully understand why.
A snow-white shepherd ran along the marked path, confidently and flawlessly. Yennefer stood a short distance away, issuing only brief commands that the dog understood perfectly. They made a great team, and when the opportunity to acquire a dog arose, Yennefer didn't hesitate for too long. She volunteered, needing some change in her work, and unlike Philippa, high managerial positions were not her ambition. She still wanted to help people and spend time actively.
The rescuers at MCRS worked on a schedule of "one week on, one week off"—one week at the station, followed by one week at home. During the workweek, they would go to work every night or every day. The night shift started at 8 p.m. and ended at 8 a.m., and the day shift started at 8 a.m. and ended at 8 p.m.
Pontar spent time at the station similarly to Yennefer; he had his own bed in her room but spent much time in the duty room. Ever since he joined the unit, he got along with Crach, and Yennefer often felt they were conspiring against her in jest. The rescue dog, like the humans, had days off from work. Yennefer took him home, where together with Ciri they would run, play around, and enjoy each other's company. Ciri loved animals, and having a dog greatly improved her mood and allowed her to calm her emotions.
"Stop!" Yennefer shouted when the doors to the terrace opened. The dog stopped immediately but remained ready for action. Yennefer approached him, gave him a treat, and released him. Despite being released, Pontar lay down on the grass, keeping a watchful eye on his handler.
"How was the meeting?" she initiated with Philippa, who was already coming down to her via the terrace steps.
"Good, the guys want to go for cave rescue training in Keadwen. If we manage to raise some funds, they'll go again this year," the woman smiled and nodded towards the dog. "I'm still thinking about sending both of you for some avalanche rescue training," Philippa quickly inquired.
Yennefer slightly lifted her head.
"Avalanches? We don't have that crap here," she glanced at her suspiciously. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"I want you to be the best," Philippa laughed at her.
"Mhmm…" she placed her hands on her hips. "Be careful, because I'll believe you… I don't know if I want to go. I would have to talk to Geralt about whether he could take in Ciri at that time, and damn it, you know I hate those avalanches."
"I know, but maybe you could learn something new."
"Definitely."
"You weren't on the action?" Philippa suddenly changed the subject.
Yennefer shook her head.
"No, there was an accident on the rocks. The climbing guys went there," she said truthfully.
"Right... The search team leader doesn't go on such missions anymore, does she?" Philippa nudged her in the shoulder and gave her a stern smile. "You'll miss them..."
“I already miss them... Looking for drunk tourists is not better at all.” She replied truthfully. “But next week I have an additional assignment as a cave rescuer.”
"On the night shift?" Philippa laughed. "You'll definitely take advantage of that." This time Yennefer gently struck Philippa on the shoulder.
Yennefer loved her job, but given the responsibilities and the burden she had to shoulder, she sometimes liked to complain and whine. She knew Philippa felt the same way. Both of them didn't like to cry after a hard mission; they preferred to relieve the tension with jokes or complain about people's stupidity - or carelessness....
They sat together on the steps. Behind the building was a beautiful view of the forest and several large rock formations protruding above the treetops. Their workplace was as beautiful as it was dangerous. They both knew this better than most tourists. Yennefer rested her head on her hands and gazed at the blue sky. Its intense color reminded her of Triss' blue eyes.
Damn...
"Well…" muttered Yennefer, trying to sound nonchalant. "I talked to Triss after you left." She noticed Philippa rolling her eyes, but gestured for Yennefer to continue. "I offered to help. If you don't mind, of course. I can take Pontar and..."
"Really?" exclaimed Philippa, and Yennefer jumped slightly, not expecting such a reaction. "That's great! Thanks for taking it upon yourself. To be honest, I don't really feel like it. Not that I don't consider myself a strong woman, but I have a lot on my plate this month…"
Yennefer looked at her, raising her eyebrow slightly.
"Then why did you agree to it?"
"Triss is a bit naïve…" Philippa paused and added, "Actually, quite a lot. She kept telling me about it, and in the end, I agreed just for the sake of sanity. Then I thought maybe some potential sponsor would read it…" She sighed. "She told me about it in early April. I had a slight crisis then because one of the sources of funding collapsed, and such free advertising seemed good… However, I was supposed to get out of it earlier, and I forgot."
"Mhm…" Yennefer murmured in response.
"What?" Philippa looked at her and shrugged. "Triss takes all this way too seriously." As she said this, she made a strange gesture with her hands in the air.
"It's her job. Besides, she said that you convinced her… And encouraging people to develop their careers sounds very much like your thing…" Yennefer reminded her, maintaining a stone face.
"Yes, I encouraged her to do it, but she always brings up such topics when they're not needed…" Philippa smiled ambiguously. "She's charming, it's hard for me to say no to her… Let's keep this between us, but I must admit honestly… That I don't really listen to what she says then—the bed is not the best place for such conversations, and…"
"Gods, Philippa stop," Yennefer groaned. "Spare me the details… I lived with you for two years, and I'm tired of your girlfriends and all those stories." Pretending to be upset, she hid her face in her hands.
"Really? You want to help one of them. How does that relate to what you're saying?" In Philippa's voice, Yennefer could hear a gentle amusement that she was sure only she knew.
"Because you acted like a bitch," she said. "Not that it's anything unusual for you, but giving a girl hope, only to leave her later…" Yennefer saw Philippa smile even wider. She rolled her eyes. "Will you ever grow up?"
"I am grown up," Philippa replied.
"Sure…" Yennefer answered. "I felt strange hearing your conversation; if I were in her place, I'd flatten this place to the ground."
Philippa laughed sincerely, which surprised Yennefer enough that she looked at her, furrowing her brows.
"Triss is sweet, I told you. Especially when she gets nervous. She's not dangerous; she just overreacts sometimes," she said lightly.
"Does she overdo it or get too involved?" Yennefer caught her words.
"She gets overly involved. Besides..." she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. "Sometimes she's a bit exhausting because it seems to me that she wants to have me to herself."
"What's wrong with that?" Yennefer never understood Philippa's lifestyle.
"Probably nothing, but it's not for me. I presented her with my terms, she agreed..." she shrugged her shoulders.
"Maybe talk to her..." Yennefer muttered under her breath.
Why do I care?
"Yenna, give it a rest," Philippa laughed, nudging her in the knee. "You and relationship advice? And why are we even talking about it?"
"You treated her horribly, and that's all I'm telling you," Yennefer said a bit too harshly.
"Good thing you were there. Ready to comfort her and offer your help," Philippa smiled ambiguously.
"That's mean, even for you," she replied, not taking her eyes off Philippa.
"You're repeating yourself," Philippa stood up and extended her hand to her. Yennefer took it and stood up. "Shall we order pizza?"
"You pay."
Philippa raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and laughed softly. Yennefer shook her head but smiled slightly under her breath, turning her head towards the forest. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Her thoughts returned once again to Triss's blue eyes.
Yennefer stood by the window in the unit's garage. It was another hot day. Her fingers involuntarily played with the star-shaped pendant she always wore. Work always helped her to organize her thoughts, and those unbearably revolved around yesterday's meeting with Triss. And around the promise of help she had made. Since the morning, she couldn't stop thinking about the fact that she should call Triss. She refrained, however, from making contact too soon. She didn't want to seem like an overzealous teenager. With each passing hour, a strange feeling grew in her that time was not playing in her favor. With a sigh, she turned away from the window.
Why the hell do I care?
Yesterday she thought about this while circling her apartment. She has always enjoyed helping people, and if she herself were in a hopeless situation, she would want someone to extend a helping hand to her. Plus, she saw this as an opportunity to fulfill her mission. She knew that people often disregard mountains and safety rules. Perhaps this article was a good opportunity to make them aware of the dangers in passing.
The garage was empty, which did not mean at all that she had hidden here. She sighed quietly for the umpteenth time, took out her phone and leaned with her back against the massive bumper of the car. She focused her gaze on the off-road quad and bit her lip. She called Triss.
“Hallo?” - Triss answered almost immediately, her voice sounding cheerful.
“Hi, Triss.” - Yennefer began, trying to sound nonchalant. “Listen, I have tonight and all of next week free. Can you manage to prepare it in that amount of time?”
“Yennefer! Sure!” - replied Triss enthusiastically. “This really means that you will help me? I'm so happy, Yen! I won't take up too much of your time, I'll try to organize it so that you don't have to...”
"Woaa, slowly Triss, slowly…" - she was interrupted by Yennefer with a note of amusement in her voice. “You're supposed to win and rub Philippa's nose in it, remember?”
She heard Triss's cheerful laugh. "I'm forgetting the grand prize," she joked. “Would you like to meet today? Won't you be tired?”
“Starting tomorrow, I'll have Ciri and won't have much free time.” - explained Yennefer honestly. “And I can't hide the fact that I'd like to start as soon as possible, I like to know where I stand and not think about it too much. Well, I'll be on the move tonight anyway, you know what I mean? I'll leave here at 8pm and we can meet somewhere in the city.”
"Okay, I'll adjust, Yenna," replied Triss quickly. "Shall we meet at The Golden Dragon? They have a terrace there overlooking the valley. I'll book a table, then we'll have peace and quiet."
"Sure, I'll arrive a few minutes after 8 pm, unless there's an alarm," Yennefer said, though they both knew what that usually looked like.
"Let me know if anything changes," Triss added.
"Sure, see you later," replied Yennefer briefly.
"Take care and thanks for your help," she added. Triss's voice was warm and full of gratitude.
"Of course," Yennefer laughed lightly and hung up.
For a moment, her face lit up with a soft smile as she glanced at her phone screen. She quickly composed herself, donning her usual mask.
You're acting like a silly teenager...
She sighed, pushing away the urge to overanalyze. She put the phone in her pocket and strode towards the door, allowing her thoughts to flow freely, without scrutiny. Yennefer was certain she had everything under control, confident she'd have time later to examine those thoughts—to break them down and analyze them. Calmly, at her own pace. She was sure of it.
She didn't realize that the first stones that would trigger the avalanche were already rolling downhill, out of any control. This was the last moment to at least try to stop it.
Yennefer, however, clung to the illusion that time was on her side.
Notes:
Technical information:
1. Philippa is the shift chief for Yennefer's shift. I'm not entirely sure how to best translate this rank. In any case, she is a rescuer who is no longer directly involved in field rescue operations.
She can command larger operations from the station, is responsible for every rescue team and every rescuer on her shift. She is in direct contact with the MCRS management. Her duties also include sending her team members to specialized trainings and ensuring their knowledge and skills. She's the boss here.
2. I don't know if I managed to explain well how the shift system looks like.
Simply put: rescuers work from Sunday to Saturday. They have a week of night shifts, a week off, a week of day shifts, a week off, and so on.
3. If you want to get a clearer picture of MCRS's operational territory, you can search for information on the Kraków-Częstochowa Upland in Poland. This region is my primary inspiration for creating this world.If there is any technical aspect you don't understand, let me know! I will try to describe it better in the next chapter or add some detailed notes.
Chapter 3
Notes:
This chapter turned out to be especially long, but I would rather not split it into two shorter ones. I hope you enjoy it!
Thank you for all your comments! Please let me know what you think about this one. I hope the rescue scene wasn't too hard and overwhelming. ;)
Chapter Text
A giant tree with smooth, light gray bark stood at the entrance to the Howler's Well, looking like its eternal guardian. Yennefer now found herself between them—facing the tree, while behind her was a large, dark opening leading into the cave.
Three sturdy ropes were wrapped around the tree trunk, and one of them—a bright orange one—was clipped into Yennefer's harness. She adjusted her cave rescue suit, which, due to the prevailing heat, clung and stuck to her body like a second skin. She gripped the rope tighter and checked the harness. The strap was snug around her hips. She was safe.
She took a deep breath. She knew it would end like this—it always did. Whenever she made plans with someone, work usually got in the way. As she left the station, she sent a brief message to Triss: ‘I have to cancel tonight's meeting. I'll call you later.’
“Coën! I'm going down!” she called out to the other rescuer. “I'll rig the cave, and you grab the stretcher and splints.”
“Okay,” he answered shortly.
The cave behind her began with a slight slope. The entrance was not too steep, so many people tried to look inside out of curiosity. They passed through the barriers surrounding the cave, unaware of the danger that awaited them. Descending without proper equipment usually ends tragically.
Yennefer moved backward into the cave, slowly and carefully placing each step. Her hands worked smoothly and confidently, guiding the rope through the descender attached to her harness. The ground was unstable, and the scattered leaves made it easy to slip. After a few meters, the slope became steeper. This was the last point where someone without proper equipment could retreat safely.
She spotted ropes that likely belonged to the person who reported the accident and his companion. So far, this is the only sign of their presence. False alarms were common, but this time everything pointed to a real accident. She continued her descent, scanning the rocks for anchor points she could clip into. She was constantly careful not to dislodge any loose stones. Even the smallest pebbles, falling from this height, could injure those below.
The most dangerous part of the cave was just a few meters behind her. The slope ended abruptly with a rather large threshold. Behind it, a deep well of more than twenty meters opened up. Anyone who slipped without a belay would have no chance to slow down—they would slide straight into the abyss.
There was no one at the entrance when Yennefer and Coën arrived. The man who reported the accident had probably gone down to the injured person. Based on the equipment they saw, it was clear that both were well-prepared for the descent. But accidents happen, even to the best. According to the duty rescuer, the girl had fallen from the rope and landed at the bottom of the cave, complaining of pain in her leg and wrist. She was conscious, which was both a relief and a surprise to the rescuers.
After a few minutes of walking down, Yennefer stopped at the threshold and looked down. In the gloom, she spotted two flashlights. She reached her hand over her left shoulder and pressed a button on the radio.
“Coën, report to Yennefer.”
“Go ahead.”
“I'm making one last switch and heading down.”
“Okay, I'm starting to descend.”
Yennefer carefully moved to the right to clip in the last belay points on the wall. When everything was ready, she began to slowly descend on the rope.
She landed softly on her feet, although the ground was tricky and unstable. Stones and leaves fell here all the time, and now moved under her boots with the slightest step. She quickly untied her rope and glanced at the other two hanging beside her. One was much too short. It ended a few inches above her head. Yennefer didn't notice a knot at the end that would have kept the man from falling. She adjusted the flashlight on her helmet. Its light reflected off the wet rocks, illuminating the dark corners.
A girl sat in the corner of the cave, and a boy crouched beside her, holding her by the shoulders. Yennefer approached them slowly, trying to assess the situation.
“Hello, my name is Yennefer, I’m a mountain rescuer,” she said calmly, taking off her thick protective gloves. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?” Her voice was steady, though she felt a slight tension inside. Every rescue operation was stressful and dangerous, but she couldn’t allow the injured to sense her stress. They were safe with her, and that’s how they needed to feel.
She took a small medical backpack off her back and put on clean medical gloves.
“I was rappelling down and then… I… Suddenly, my rope ran out… and… I fell,” the girl said hesitantly, looking at the ground.
“It's my fault, I should have watched over you,” the boy added, glancing at her with guilt in his eyes.
Yennefer focused on the injured girl. Finding someone to blame or guessing the cause of the accident wasn’t her job.
“Are you in pain anywhere?” she asked, studying the girl closely.
“My left leg, wrist, and hands,” she replied, turning her uninjured hand toward Yennefer. A thick, red line ran across the palm. “I didn’t fall from too high. I managed to land on my feet, but… I… I slipped on these rocks. I tried to get up right away, but my leg hurt really bad.”
“Did you sit down here on your own?” Yennefer continued, trying to gather as much information as possible before taking action.
“Yes. I moved here so I wouldn’t be sitting right under the cave entrance.”
“Good. Look at me,” Yennefer said, gently taking the girl’s head to assess her overall condition. “What’s your name?”
“Chloe,” the girl replied.
“Chloe, I’m going to examine you now, okay? If anything hurts, please let me know right away.” Yennefer began conducting a trauma assessment. Chloe was conscious, moving on her own, and didn’t complain of dizziness or memory loss. These were the most important details for now.
Yennefer was relieved to find that, aside from the pain in her leg and wrist, the girl didn’t have any other serious injuries. However, Chloe’s hands were badly burned.
“Yennefer, report for Central,” she heard a voice on the radio.
“Reporting in.”
“How is the situation?”
“I'm at the bottom of the Howling Well, with the injured woman. I suspect injury to the left forearm and left wrist; in addition, the girl has burns on her hands from the rope. She is conscious and reports no other complaints.”
“Roger,” replied the voice from the radio.
“Chloe, I need to check that leg that’s hurting you,” Yennefer said with a gentle tone, addressing the girl again.
“Okay,” Chloe hissed, gritting her teeth.
Yennefer carefully placed her hands on the calf, trying to assess the possible injury. She didn’t feel anything concerning.
“I’m going to have to cut your pant leg,” she said, reaching into her backpack for scissors.
She carefully cut the fabric up to the knee, trying not to move the girl’s leg too much. Yennefer quietly sighed with relief when she didn’t see anything alarming. Chloe’s ankle was slightly swollen, which was nothing surprising in this situation.
“It looks like you’ve sprained your ankle,” Yennefer said. “We’ll stabilize your leg, and the doctors at the hospital will take care of the rest.”
Yennefer’s sentence was interrupted by the crackling of her radio.
“Yennefer, report to Coën.”
“I’m here.”
“Can I lower the stretcher?”
“Go ahead.”
She removed her medical gloves and stood up.
“Try not to move your leg, okay, Chloe? I will stabilize her as soon as the second rescuer brings the splints,” she said softly to the girl, then looked up.
Her headlamp lit the space above her. She saw Coën, clipped into the rope, slowly lowering the stretcher. She carefully watched as the equipment descended toward her. When the stretcher was at the right height, she grabbed it firmly and called out:
“Stretcher's down, thank you.”
She unhooked the stretcher from the rope and carefully placed it against one of the cave walls. There wasn't much space at the bottom, which limited the ability to move freely and required extra caution.
Yennefer quickly returned to the injured girl and removed her helmet. She heard Coën land right behind her. When he approached, he was ready for action.
“Can you hand me the hydrogel dressings from the backpack?” she said, putting on a fresh pair of gloves. Coën quickly pulled out two packets from the backpack, tore one open, and handed it to her.
Yennefer skillfully applied the dressings to the girl's hands, all the while assessing her reaction to touch. She was always precise and calm. She carefully wrapped Chloe's hands in bandages, making sure not to cause her additional pain, and then stabilized her wrist with a small splint.
“How are you feeling, Chloe?” she asked with a gentle smile, trying to comfort her. She knew what it was like. She clearly remembered what it felt like to be on the other side—to be the one being rescued after an accident. The injured often needed to feel like they weren't alone and that someone was in control. They needed to know that the rescuers were there and would do everything in their power to help.
“I'm okay,” the girl replied, also giving a slight smile. But Yennefer could see the exhaustion and pain in her eyes.
“Now, we're going to put a splint on your leg, similar to the one on your wrist,” she explained. Coën was right beside her, holding a white splint with blue letters that read MCRS along its length. “This might hurt a bit, but we'll try to be as gentle as possible.”
“Okay,” Chloe said, her voice trembling slightly.
Coën quickly bent the splint to fit the leg as snugly as possible, keeping it in its natural position. When they lifted her injured leg slightly, Chloe hissed in pain, but the rescuers quickly secured the splint, wrapping it tightly with a bandage.
“Are the guys up top?” Yennefer asked, turning to Coën.
“Yeah, they arrived just as I was coming down.”
Yennefer reached for her left shoulder and pressed the button on her radio.
“Roche, report for Yennefer,” she said confidently. Meanwhile, Coën covered Chloe with a thermal blanket, trying to keep her warm. The cave maintained a steady temperature of just six degrees Celsius. The cold could further weaken the girl.
“I'm here, Yen. “
“Are you guys up top?”
“Yeah, we're just finishing building the pullout station.”
“Good. We're about to transfer the injured person to the stretcher. Let me know when you're ready for transport.”
“Got it.”
Yennefer packed her backpack, watching as Coën secured the splint cover. Approaching Chloe, she tried to keep her attention, hoping to distract her from the pain.
“Feeling a bit better, Chloe?” she asked gently.
“Yeah, my leg doesn't hurt as much.”
“We need to put you on the stretcher to get you out of here. It might feel a bit uncomfortable, kind of like being in a stiff sleeping bag, but you'll be safe.” She tried to speak calmly, though she felt a slight tension inside. The responsibility she carried could be overwhelming. Hauling a stretcher with an injured person up several dozen meters was always risky. Anything could happen.
“Okay,” Chloe replied.
“Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?”
“No, just my leg and hand,” the girl sighed.
“I understand. We'll get you out of here soon, Chloe,” Yennefer said, lightly touching her arm.
Yennefer walked over to Coën, who was preparing the stretcher. She helped him unbuckle the straps, and together they spread the flaps to the sides.
Cave stretchers were different from regular ones—their base was solid and rigid, designed to slide over rocks, which was often necessary when squeezing through narrow crevices. They also had a special harness that allowed for the safe transport of the injured person both vertically and horizontally. Additionally, they were equipped with leg restraints and head stabilization. Cave stretchers resembled a sleeping bag. On the sides was a durable material used to wrap the injured person, protecting them from the cold, moisture, and abrasions during transport. This material was attached to both sides of the stretcher. Once the person was secured in the harness, their legs were covered, and the side flaps were folded over, secured with straps and strong buckles.
When everything was ready, Yennefer returned to Chloe. She carefully placed a special helmet on her head, designed for evacuations from difficult and dangerous locations. The helmet also had a transparent visor to protect the injured person’s face.
Once they carefully transferred the girl onto the stretcher, Yennefer helped her lie on her back. Every movement had to be done correctly and safely. They were now responsible for this girl’s well-being.
“Is everything okay?” Yennefer asked as she fastened the harness. “I didn’t tighten it too much, did I?”
“It’s fine.”
Meanwhile, Coën was stabilizing and positioning Chloe’s legs on the stretcher.
“Are your legs okay? They don’t hurt more?” Yennefer asked softly, leaning in to check how Chloe’s head was stabilized.
“Everything’s okay,” the girl replied, though her voice carried traces of exhaustion.
“Just a little longer, Chloe. You’re doing great,” Yennefer said. Chloe smiled at her. Gratitude was visible in her eyes. Yennefer placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled back. She knew how important it could be to have a woman on the rescue team, especially when the injured person was another woman. That small gesture could really give her strength.
“All set,” Coën said after securing the legs. He covered them with the material and fastened the straps. “Can we fold it up?”
“Yes,” Yennefer replied.
She grabbed the flap on her side and covered the girl with it, being careful of her injured hand and arm. Coën did the same with the material on the other side. Once the girl was fully covered, they secured everything with wide straps. They pulled them tight enough to keep everything stable and secure without causing the injured girl any extra pain. Folded and fastened, it really did look like a sleeping bag.
“You’ll be up soon, Chloe, don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time,” Yennefer said calmly, fitting an extra protective hood on the girl.
Despite her exhaustion, she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. The hardest part was still ahead. They had to efficiently and safely lift Chloe to the surface.
“Yennefer, report to Roche,” a voice from the radio on Yennefer's shoulder hummed. She quickly reached for the button.
“Reporting in.”
“We're ready. How's it going down there?”
“The girl is ready in the stretcher. You can lower the rope. She has a leg injury, so we will pull her out horizontally.”
“Roger, lowering the ropes.”
Yennefer felt the familiar tension building in her muscles. Every rescue operation, no matter how many times she'd been through it, carried an invisible weight. The responsibility was enormous. Still, she wouldn't trade this job for any other.
She took a deep breath in and out. Together with Coën, they efficiently clipped the stretcher into the specialized rope system. They both knew exactly what to do.
“Roche, the stretcher is secured. I'm going up and will belay them,” Yennefer said over the radio, then clipped herself into her rope.
“Got it. Eskel is coming down, and I'll control the line from the top.”
“Copy that, we're ready,” she said, and together with Coën, they lifted the stretcher slightly off the ground.
“All right, be careful. Eskel is starting to descend,” they heard Roche's voice on the radio.
The rope began to tighten, gradually taking on the full weight of the stretcher. The extraction required a counterweight system. Eskel was descending on the same rope that was attached to the injured girl. This setup allowed for a smooth ascent. At the top, Roche carefully managed the rope, ensuring everything moved effortlessly.
Yennefer climbed her rope alongside the stretcher. While Eskel controlled the upward movement, her job was to maneuver the stretcher, making sure it fit between the narrow walls of the cave. It couldn't get snagged or hit the sides. This task required focus and strength. Both were now suspended high above the ground, and any mistake at this point could be disastrous. But Yennefer knew exactly what she was doing.
After a few minutes, they reached the edge of the slope. Yennefer climbed higher, clipping into the appropriate anchor point. She reached for the stretcher with one hand and pressed the radio button with the other.
“Eskel, I’m at the ledge,” she said, slightly out of breath.
“I’m stopping,” came the reply through the radio.
“I’m waiting for Coën. I’ll let you know when we’ve switched the line,” she replied.
Coën appeared over the ledge a few seconds later. He helped her safely position the stretcher, facing the exit. They clipped in the second rope, which was the next part of the system to haul the stretcher up.
“Roche, we’ve switched the lines. You can start lifting,” she reported over the radio.
“Copy that, starting the lift.”
This time, the rope that pulled the injured woman up was additionally attached to a small but powerful diesel winch. Yennefer and Coën held the stretcher with one hand to steady it, while using the other hand to secure themselves on their ropes. Although the task seemed straightforward, it required a great deal of physical and mental effort. They were getting higher, closer to the surface. Yennefer could feel the adrenaline slowly subsiding. Her hands were beginning to protest from gripping the ropes and handles so tightly. She knew there were just a few meters left. Coën walked alongside her slowly, his eyes on his rope and the stretcher. They were working in perfect sync.
Roche stood beside the tree, operating the winch and adjusting its power. When Yennefer finally saw the green of the forest and more sunlight, she smiled slightly to herself.
When they came out of the cave, Yennefer exhaled a long breath through her lips. The tension slowly left her body, and fatigue mixed with satisfaction. She glanced at Coën and gave him a slight smile, then looked at Chloe, who, despite the pain and exhaustion, was safe. That was what mattered most.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Yennefer asked as she and Coën lifted the stretcher over the barrier and placed it safely on the grass.
“Good, but… I'm just glad I'm up here now,” Chloe replied, the relief in her voice unmistakable.
“Me too,” Yennefer admitted, looking at the girl with satisfaction.
Together with Coën, they quickly unhooked all the ropes that had connected them and Chloe to the cave. Yennefer carefully removed the hood from Chloe's helmet, making sure it didn't cause her any discomfort.
“Want me to lift the visor?” she asked, ensuring the girl didn't feel trapped.
“Please.”
Yennefer gently raised the shield to the top of the helmet, revealing Chloe's face.
“We're going to transfer you to a special trailer now,” she said calmly. “It'll be a short ride to the ambulance.”
Chloe nodded. Yennefer and Coën lifted the stretcher together and headed toward the forest path. There, next to a large red off-road vehicle, was a quad with a trailer.
Yennefer leaned over Chloe, trying to make eye contact after securing her to the trailer.
“Everything's going to be fine, Chloe, don't worry,” her voice was soft but reassuring.
“Thank you,” Chloe whispered with gratitude, though the exhaustion was evident in her blue eyes.
“I'll sit in the back and keep an eye on you the whole time,” Yennefer said with a comforting smile. “We should reach the road in less than five minutes. Just breathe easy, and they'll take care of you at the hospital.”
Chloe nodded again, and Yennefer made sure everything was in place.
“Ready?” she asked as Coën started the quad.
“Yes.”
“All right, we're moving slowly.”
Coën was already seated at the controls of the massive black and red quad. He switched on the sirens, their sound echoing lightly through the forest. Blue lights flashed, reflecting off the trees. Yennefer hopped onto the rear seat, turning to face the trailer. The quad had special hand grips, making it relatively safe to sit in that position. They set off slowly along the forest path. The trailer bounced slightly over the larger bumps, but there was nothing they could do about that. Just a little longer, you’ve got this, Yennefer thought, gripping the handles tightly, never taking her eyes off Chloe.
When they emerged onto the main road, the ambulance was already waiting for them. Its rear doors were wide open, and the paramedics stood ready to take over. Coën pulled up close to the ambulance, and Yennefer jumped off the quad, greeted the medics, and briefly summarized the condition of the injured girl.
The paramedics listened attentively while preparing to transfer Chloe to the ambulance.
“Chloe?” Yennefer called softly as she approached the girl. “We’re going to move you to another stretcher now, and then you’ll be on your way to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
Yennefer and Coën carefully unfastened the restraints and released Chloe from the harness. Two paramedics assisted them. Together, they gently and safely transferred the girl to the second stretcher. Once everything was secured, they slowly moved Chloe into the ambulance.
“Thank you,” Chloe said quietly as she was settled inside. Yennefer stood at the doors and waved with a smile.
“You'll be okay, Chloe,” she reassured her.
The fatigue was beginning to take over her body.
It had been a very intense end to the day.
She stepped back as the paramedics approached to close the doors. She glanced around. Coën was tidying up the trailer, securing the now-empty stretcher. The ambulance turned on its lights and sirens, then slowly drove off toward the hospital. The sun was beginning to set, and the air had grown cooler. Yennefer let out a long breath, feeling the weight of the day starting to press down on her.
But it wasn't over yet.
Coën got back into the driver's seat of the quad and patted the seat behind him. “Come on, we need to go back and clean up,” he said briefly.
Yennefer sat on the back seat of the quad again, this time facing forward. It was not yet time for rest. They still had to go back to the cave, clean up, and pack all the gear.
Back at the station, the routine was the same: cleaning, restocking the used equipment, and writing reports. Yennefer quickly got to work packing the medical kits and cleaning the vehicle.
A few minutes later, she walked into the duty room, greeted Crach and the second-shift paramedic. Pontar perked up at the sight of her, lifting his head and wagging his tail happily against the floor. She quickly filled out the report Crach had prepared for her. After adding the necessary details, she signed the document and handed it back to her colleague.
“I’ll be right back, Pontar,” she said warmly and left the room.
Before heading to the locker room, she sent a message to Triss: 'Sorry, I couldn’t make it. Maybe we can arrange something over the phone? Call me when you have a moment.’ She was sure Triss would call the next day.
Fatigue was beginning to take over her body. A hot shower felt like a small reward after a long mission. She turned on the water, and the scalding stream cascaded over her body, bringing a pleasant sense of relief. She always felt incredibly dirty after rescue missions, and only truly hot water helped her shake that feeling. It ran over her, washing away everything and clearing her mind. She knew it was a bad habit, but she didn’t want to fight it.
She left the bathroom, quickly changing into clean clothes and threw her uniform into a special laundry basket. With her bag over her shoulder, she jogged downstairs, where Pontar was waiting.
“Pontar, where are you, buddy?” she called with a smile, despite her exhaustion. “Where’s my good boy?”
“You’re looking right at him,” Crach quipped, getting up from behind the desk. “Come on, boy. Your mom’s calling.”
“Let’s go, Pontar. Time to go home,” she said.
“Great job in the cave, Yen,” Crach said, touching her arm, but Yennefer discreetly stepped away, focusing her attention on the dog, who had just approached and nudged her hand with his nose.
“Thanks.” Her reply was brief but sincere.
She crouched down and petted her snow-white dog. His soft fur always had a calming effect on her. She loved running her hands through it, scratching him behind the ears. It was one of those simple things that helped her manage the tension of being a rescuer.
After saying her goodbyes to her colleagues, she left the station, leading Pontar to the parking lot. Her black Volvo was waiting. She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and checked the back seat to secure the dog’s leash. Pontar barely settled on the seat before closing his eyes, ready for a nap. Yennefer climbed into the driver’s seat, resting her head against the headrest. Once again, she felt the exhaustion in every inch of her body. She reached for her phone to place it in the mount on the windshield. That’s when she noticed a missed call from Triss.
“Damn it…” she muttered under her breath, starting the engine and dialing her number. She buckled her seatbelt and was about to shift into first gear when she heard Triss's voice.
“Am I interrupting?” Her voice sounded unsure, which brought a slight smile to Yennefer's face.
“No, I just got out of the shower. Honestly, I thought you'd call tomorrow.”
“I stay up late, but if you'd rather, I can call you tomorrow.”
“No, do you have a minute now?” Yennefer asked. She debated whether to start driving or turn the engine off. In the end, she did neither.
“Sure, I've got time now.” Triss laughed, and her enthusiasm was infectious.
“Can we figure things out over the phone?”
“Yeah, I've written down a detailed list of questions I want to ask you. I think you could answer them via email. I'll send them to you, and you can go through them when you have a moment.”
“Will that be enough for the article?”
“I think so. If anything comes up, I'll call. Oh, I also need to take a few pictures…”
“I was just about to ask. I was thinking about it today—maybe we could do a few pictures while we're out on a walk? I'll bring Pontar, and we'll go out in the field. I'd prefer to avoid staged photos at the station.”
“That's a great idea!” Triss almost shouted with excitement.
Yennefer smiled to herself, imagining her reaction.
“Great, when are you free? Ideally, in the morning, before noon.”
“I only have to be in the office on Thursday, so I can work around that.”
“Okay, send me the questions, and I'll try to answer them by Monday. Let's plan the walk for Tuesday, sound good?”
“Of course, what time should I be ready?”
“How about a little after 8:00? I'll drop Ciri off at school and then swing by to pick you up.”
“Sure, no problem!”
“Great. Send me your address, and I'll send you my email.”
“I can't wait!” Triss's voice was filled with such joy that Yennefer could almost see her smile.
“Me too,” Yennefer replied warmly, though she tried to keep her tone neutral.
“Talk soon.”
Yennefer hung up, quickly sent her email address, and turned the music up. The smile didn't leave her face. With a low, bass murmur, the car drove out of the parking lot.
The next day, Yennefer woke up early in the morning. Sunlight streamed through the window, shining directly on her face. She groaned in annoyance. She had purposely left the windows uncovered, knowing she had to pick up Ciri in the morning. Still, the thought of waking up early on her day off felt cruel.
She dragged herself out of bed and took a quick shower. The cool water invigorated her body. She slipped on shorts and a loose, black tank top. It was shaping up to be another scorching day.
Before leaving, she poured food into the bowl. Pontar was still sound asleep on her bed, unconcerned with the passing time. She envied his freedom and carefree nature. With a quiet sigh, she glanced at the dog before heading out the door.
A few minutes later, she parked her car in front of a small house with a sharp, gabled roof. The one-story home was simple yet elegant, with an attached two-car garage. The yard around the house was neat and pristine, almost too perfect. The grass was lush and green, and small trees grew in a straight line along the fence.
Yennefer stood on her toes and reached over the fence to press a hidden button on the post. The electric gate buzzed, signaling it was unlocked. A second later, she heard barking and the heavy footsteps of a dog running across the cobblestones. Yennefer quickly stepped into the yard, closed the gate behind her, and crouched down. A long-haired German Shepherd bounded toward her, tail wagging joyfully.
She greeted the dog, stroking its neck firmly. She felt the soft fur under her hand. She loved animals and wasn’t afraid to show it. Roach wagged her tongue, trying to lick Yennefer in greeting.
“All right, Roach, that’s enough love,” Yennefer laughed as she stood, but the dog wasn’t giving up. Roach jumped on her playfully, scratching her bare legs. “Stop, enough. I know you love me, but you could use a bit… more training,” she muttered, gently pushing the dog away.
“Roach, leave it,” came a deep male voice, echoing across the yard. Yennefer looked up to see a tall man slowly approaching.
The dog obeyed immediately and ran over to its owner, leaving Yennefer in peace. Now Roach was jumping on Geralt, scratching him and showing the same enthusiasm.
“Well, well,” Yennefer said, pretending to be impressed. “What amazing obedience! I’m truly awed by your extraordinary dog training skills, Geralt.”
“Good to see you too, Yen,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the dog away. Roach finally gave up and ran toward the house.
When they were close enough, Geralt hugged her in greeting. Their relationship had always been tumultuous and full of tension, but despite that, they remained close. They told each other that it was for Ciri and for her sake. But Yennefer still saw Geralt as a friend—he understood her, and she understood him. Even though they couldn't make the relationship work, friendship came naturally to them.
“Is Ciri still asleep?” she asked as they walked toward the house. He answered with a quiet grunt and a nod. “Who does she get that from?” she added, amused, watching him smile to himself.
“Are you staying for coffee?” he asked.
“Mhm, but can we have it outside? It's beautiful out.”
“I wouldn't dream of keeping you indoors,” Geralt muttered, letting Yennefer go ahead of him.
There was a slight trace of amusement in his voice, which brought a barely noticeable smile to Yennefer's face. She passed through the cozy, bright living room and headed straight for the open glass doors. Beyond them was a wooden deck. She looked around. Nothing had changed... or maybe it had? Her eyes landed on a light beige hammock. It stood right next to the gazebo, strung up on a black metal frame. Beside it was a lounge chair and a small wooden table.
She murmured contentedly under her breath. She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot toward the hammock. Lying down, she closed her eyes. There was something special about this moment—the peace, the silence. All she could hear was the gentle rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. The yard was bathed in the morning sun, and the soft sway of the hammock had a calming effect on her. She sank into the moment, allowing herself a brief chance at true relaxation. It was something she rarely had time for.
After a while, she heard Geralt's heavy footsteps and the clink of cups being placed on the table. He sighed as he settled into the lounge chair. Through half-closed eyes, she saw him stretch his legs out in front of him and clasp his hands behind his head. He was resting, enjoying the moment just as much as she was.
They lay there in comfortable silence for a long time. In moments like this, she realized just how much she missed these quiet, shared moments in her everyday life. This kind of silence that could be comfortably shared with someone else.
But she knew her work made it difficult to build a genuine and honest relationship. Men often backed off as soon as they learned what she did for a living. She was strong, independent, and being a mountain rescuer only reinforced those traits. On top of that, she had a child with her ex, with whom she still maintained a good relationship. She wasn’t overly emotional or affectionate. She was a walking red flag.
She wanted someone to finally come along who would understand her. When she suddenly left a meeting because she was called to the station, it didn’t mean that work was more important than the person she was with. Yennefer never compared her work to her loved ones. If someone needed her help—someone whose life and health depended on her—she went and helped. It was that straightforward. There was no room for comparisons or putting one above the other. A meeting or a date could wait. A freezing person in a cave couldn’t. Unfortunately, people usually only understood that when they found themselves in need. Then, suddenly, they wanted rescuers to drop everything they were doing and come to their aid immediately.
She knew she had to find someone who would understand and accept it. Otherwise, they would constantly argue with each other.
She had worked hard on this with Ciri. When her daughter was younger, she didn’t understand why her mom went to work on her days off. Yennefer explained that she didn’t have to go, but she wanted to. She tried to gently explain that there might be someone’s mom, daughter, brother, or father out there in the mountains. And if she could help bring that person safely back to their family, she wanted to do it. She didn’t have to do it, but she wanted to—she repeated it over and over again, and it was the truth. Ciri understood this eventually, though there were days when she would look at Yennefer with sad eyes and beg her to stay just this once. Sometimes, Yennefer gave in to her daughter’s pleas.
She sat up in the hammock and reached for the cup of coffee. The first sip spread warmth across her palate. She murmured softly—there was something magical about the first sip of coffee.
“How’s your shift?” Geralt asked without opening his eyes.
“This week was pretty quiet,” she admitted honestly. “Mostly minor injuries and dehydration. Yesterday we had a serious accident on the wall and a cave rescue. The perfect way to end the week. How about you? Ready for the weekend?”
“No, I hate these Sunday night shifts,” he grumbled, clearly tired.
“How’s that possible?” she teased. “Sunday night shifts are the best… You get to the station, check the equipment, annoy the guys, and then go to sleep,” she laughed. “And they even pay you for it.”
“Sounds like the perfect job for you,” he commented with a smile.
“Exactly,” she confirmed proudly.
“Do you know what the ER is like on Sundays?” he asked, finally opening his eyes.
“I remember that horror. I had an internship at a hospital. Honestly, I’d take the mountains… even on the worst days.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t go that route too.”
Yennefer burst out laughing, almost spitting out her coffee.
“Are you kidding? Look at you!” she teased. “Have you seen those guys from the MCRS? They’re skinny as sticks. How do you plan on squeezing those muscles of yours through tight crevices?” she said, trying to suppress her smile. “That strength of yours is better used for carrying fainting patients.”
“Most of my fainting patients are in their sixties, Yen…” he muttered, looking at her with amusement. “Though I guess I’d still take that over drunk Sunday crowds.”
“I feel for you, really,” her voice was warm and sincere. “I thought for a while about applying to the ambulance service… I could pick up a few shifts on my days off, you know, for extra cash, but…”
“Don’t bother. If you want to make more money, find something outside of emergency services.”
“Mhm,” she agreed, nodding. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t see herself in any other job.
“Yen?”
“Yeah?”
“Ciri mentioned you're still having that nightmare about the bus accident…”
Yennefer sighed heavily and sank back into the hammock.
“Where does she get that talkativeness from?” She didn't want anyone to know about her weaknesses, but there was no hiding anything from Ciri.
“Are you okay? If you ever need to talk…”
“I'm fine, Geralt. It's just… I wasn't mentally prepared for that kind of incident,” she sighed again, feeling the weight of the memories returning. “These kinds of mass accidents are….”
“You shouldn't have been there… or, I mean, your team shouldn't.”
“I know what you're saying and… damn it, I agree with you,” a quiet anger resonated in her voice, not directed at Geralt, but at the situation. “You know how to handle a rescue, but… we were the first ones on the scene and…”
“Did you command this action?” he interrupted, surprised.
“No, Roche quickly handed command over to the fire department as soon as they arrived. There were fifty injured, under the wreckage and inside the bus…” she paused for a moment. “If they had been in a cave, if they were stuck on a wall… I'd know exactly what to do. But that? The sight of that bus almost knocked me off my feet.”
“You should talk to a therapist about it.”
“No,” she muttered. “I'm fine, really… It's fine, seriously... I don't dwell on it, and if it weren't for that dream, I don't know if I would go back to that accident. I've seen bodies before, often in much worse condition.... I think this was my first mass accident…” she paused briefly. “As a rescuer, I mean, and…”
“So why the nightmares?” he interrupted again.
“I keep dreaming about that little girl,” Yennefer rubbed her face with her hand, closing her eyes. “I think it's because I know I'll never be able to have another child… Ciri is everything to me. If she had been in that girl's place, if something had happened to her…”
“Yen…” Geralt's voice was quiet, filled with understanding.
“In those dreams, everything I didn't have at the scene is there. Lately, I dreamed that I opened the passenger's backpack, and inside there was a warm, soft blanket... Sometimes there's room to lay her down safely, or I see her sitting by the roadside…”
“You did everything you could.”
“I know that, I do…” she admitted, but her voice carried a hidden sadness. “But, as a person… it just breaks my heart, you know?”
“I know.”
Yennefer sat up again. Her bare feet touched the grass, still damp with dew. She reached for her coffee and took another sip. She gently pushed off the ground with her legs, swaying slightly in the hammock.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, covering her mouth with the cup as if trying to hide her vulnerability from the world.
Geralt nodded in response, and Yennefer gave him a faint smile.
Suddenly, a tall, slender girl walked out onto the terrace. Her ashen braid rested loosely over her left shoulder, with a few strands slipping free from the carefully woven style, giving her a slightly messy yet charming look. Her green eyes, still not fully awake, squinted slightly. She tilted her head as she looked at her parents.
“Hi,” she yawned lazily, stretching. “Can I have breakfast before we go?”
“Of course,” Geralt answered, but quickly glanced at Yennefer and added, “Unless you two have plans...”
“No, go ahead and eat. I can wait a few more minutes,” Yennefer murmured, stretching out comfortably in the hammock. “It’s pretty cozy here.”
“Yes!” Ciri suddenly perked up, full of energy, and ran over to Yennefer. “This hammock is wonderful; can we get one like it?”
“Better get two, or else you’ll constantly be fighting over it,” Geralt muttered quietly, but that caught the attention of both of them. Yennefer and Ciri shot him identical, stern looks. Geralt laughed and pretended to be scared. He shrank back slightly and quickly averted his gaze as if trying to avoid punishment, though the smile never left his face.
“Can I invite Cerys?” Ciri asked, looking at her mom with hopeful eyes.
“I’ll call her dad and ask, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea… Cerys always stays over when…”
“When you finish your day shifts... You know that only happens once a month, right?” Ciri rolled her eyes, as if reminding Yennefer of something obvious.
Yennefer sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Ciri was right—lately, it had been hard for them to find time together.
“You’re right,” she admitted finally. “I’ll ask Crach. If you want, we can stay in the city, take Cerys out for lunch, and then head home together.”
“Awesome! Thanks!” Ciri beamed, and with a spring in her step, she ran back into the house, as if she couldn’t wait for the plan to unfold.
“When did she grow up so fast?” Geralt sighed, looking toward the door where Ciri had disappeared.
“I don’t know…” Yennefer replied quietly, staring at the spot where her daughter had just stood. “Time definitely flies too quickly.”
In the evening, the air had cooled a bit. Yennefer stepped out of the living room and sat on the small stone terrace. Though “terrace” was probably too grand a word, it was barely a meter-wide space ending in three steps leading to the yard. On either side, two large planters held decorative trees. She dreamed of having a proper terrace, like Geralt's, but with her current salary, that dream was still far unreachable.
She brought out a carton of apple juice and set it on the step next to her. Her laptop rested on her lap, wobbling slightly with every tap on the keyboard. The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The peace of the evening was interrupted only by loud music. Ciri and Cerys were holding their usual evening concert—they had opened the balcony, set up speakers, and were singing as long as their energy allowed. The concert continued, even though it was getting late.
Cerys was staying over tonight, and tomorrow, both girls would head to school together. It was important to Yennefer that Ciri had a real friend. Cerys was the daughter of Crach, who worked at MCRS as a duty rescuer. He handled emergency calls, dispatched units, liaised with other services, monitored weather conditions, and kept an eye on the mountain cameras. He was an excellent rescuer and an exceptional person.
Their kids had met during one of the Christmas Eve dinners at the station. Crach had come with his wife and two kids. His son, Hjalmar, dreamed of working in rescue, wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. Ciri and Cerys, though still young at the time, became fast friends. Since then, they have been almost inseparable. The growing bond between them had led Yennefer to transfer Ciri to the same school in Montecalvo that Cerys attended. She already commuted to work in the city, and Geralt lived on its outskirts, so everything fit perfectly.
Cerys was a frequent guest in their home, and sometimes Yennefer felt like she had two daughters. She loved it. She had once dreamed of having a bigger family, but fate had decided otherwise. Complications during Ciri's birth had taken away any chance of another child. Over time, Yennefer had learned to live with that, or at least she thought she had. Occasionally, she would slip into a melancholy mood, remembering that dream. In those moments, she often felt her heart break painfully, once again, from sorrow and regret.
She took a sip of juice and thought it should probably be apple cider instead… but she avoided alcohol when she was responsible for a child, especially someone else's. She was responsible, and she wanted to teach Ciri the same sense of responsibility. Most women her age considered Yennefer a bit uptight, which is why her circle of friends mainly consisted of the rescue team.
She opened an email from Triss and groaned softly when she saw the number of questions. Without much hesitation, she grabbed her phone and sent a brief message: 'Are you writing an article or a book?'
She copied the questions into a new document.
“Alright, one at a time,” she muttered, glancing at the first question:
‘What inspired you to become a rescuer? How did your journey with the MCSR begin?’
She changed the font color to purple and started typing:
‘When I was in high school, I had a very dangerous accident in the mountains. The determination and strength of the rescuers left a deep impression on me—I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’m certain they saved my life, and from that moment on, I knew I wanted to do the same. I wanted my work to have meaning, and I wanted to repay the favor by helping others the way they helped me.
I started with the unit as a volunteer. I was earning my community service hours while studying paramedic science, but I knew I wanted to do everything I could to become a professional rescuer. The volunteer training was long and demanding, but if…’
Her train of thought was interrupted by a message from Triss: ‘Those questions only look scary! If there’s anything you would rather not answer, you don’t have to. Thank you! ;)’
Yennefer shook her head, smiling to herself. She took another sip of her drink and returned to writing.
By the time she finished, it was already dark outside. The girls had long since stopped their concert, and Pontar lay beside her, sleeping peacefully. She hadn’t even noticed when he came over, but she appreciated his presence. She didn’t like sitting alone in the dark.
She sent the completed email to Triss right away. All she could think about now was a hot bath and her soft, cozy bed. Answering the questions had been more exhausting than she expected, but she was glad she had finished it all in one sitting. She didn’t like dragging out her tasks. She also felt good, knowing she would see Triss again soon. If anything else came to mind or needed further explanation, she’d have the perfect opportunity to discuss it in person.
Monday dragged on endlessly.
When Yennefer finally woke up on Tuesday morning, it was much too early. She groaned when she saw the time on her phone screen. She turned over and pulled the blanket over her head. But she couldn’t calm down. Her mind raced through different scenarios for the walk, and she kept wondering what she’d talk about with Triss. She wasn’t good at small talk, and meeting new people often led to uncomfortable silences. She tried to think of ways to avoid that. She was a little stressed about the whole situation, but she kept telling herself it was all because of the photos. She didn’t like being photographed. She was relieved Triss agreed to take the pictures during the walk. She couldn’t stand the thought of posing for staged shots at the station.
Two hours later, she was sitting on the wooden stairs that led to the floor of her apartment. She stroked Pontar, ready to go.
“Ciri!” she called for what felt like the hundredth time, this time louder. She looked up toward the stairs.
“Coming!” Ciri yelled back, and soon Yennefer could hear the loud thudding of footsteps.
Ciri was as light as a feather, moving with the kind of grace that made it seem like she floated above the ground. Unfortunately, going down the stairs quietly and gracefully was beyond her. She usually charged down with the noise of a stampede of elephants. Yennefer barely kept her irritation in check as she listened to each loud step.
“Ciri, you’re going to destroy those stairs if you keep stomping like that,” she said, letting her daughter go ahead of her.
“Is Pontar coming with us?” Ciri asked, sitting down to put on her shoes.
“Triss needs to take some pictures for an article, so we’re going on a quick walk,” Yennefer explained, waiting for Ciri to finish getting ready.
Ciri quickly stood up and dashed outside, leaving the door wide open behind her. Pontar glanced at Yennefer, and she gave him the signal that he could go. She grabbed her bag and followed them, locking the door behind her. Outside, Ciri was running around the car, chasing the dog. Yennefer smiled to herself at the sight.
“Get in the car, you monsters!” she called with a grin.
Ciri quickly opened the door and let Pontar inside. She jumped into the passenger seat, sat in the car seat, and buckled her seat belt.
A few minutes later, they were at the school. Ciri hopped out of the car, waving casually as she ran off.
Yennefer typed the address Triss had sent her into the GPS. She should be there in about seven minutes. She grabbed her phone and quickly sent a message saying she’d be there soon.
She turned on her favorite playlist, letting the music fill the silence in the car. Still feeling a bit nervous, she headed toward the address that Triss had given her.
She drove into the heart of the neighborhood,where everything looked freshly finished, almost pristine. Snow-white buildings with dark gray base stripes lined the streets, their balconies jutting out in angular shapes of glass and black metal. The sharp lines of the windows and balconies created a unified, modern look.
Wide sidewalks, green spaces, and playgrounds filled the area, softened by planters of ornamental grasses and trees enclosed by small fences. Tall lamps on sleek black poles blended into the landscape, their subtle presence barely noticeable. Despite the buildings towering around her, the green lawns kept the space open and inviting.
Yennefer stepped out of the car, and as she shut the door, she heard Triss’s voice. The girl was walking toward her, waving energetically. She wore a stylish outfit: black fitted leggings with turquoise stripes down the sides, and a white and turquoise geometric-patterned shirt. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail at her nape. She looked light and natural.
Yennefer raised her hand in a casual greeting, and a smile crept onto her face. She walked around the car and opened the passenger-side door, without realizing that Triss might misinterpret her gesture.
“Yen, no need for that,” Triss started, laughing lightly.
Yennefer leaned inside and unbuckled Ciri’s car seat. She glanced at Triss, slightly confused, and noticed the girl blushing, clearly embarrassed. It hit Yennefer then—Triss thought she was opening the door for her. She grabbed the car seat with one hand, held the door open with the other, and gave a playful bow.
“After you,” she said, amused.
“Thanks,” Triss replied quietly, clearly flustered. Still, she walked over to the car, removed her backpack, and climbed inside.
“Give me the backpack, I’ll toss it in the trunk,” Yennefer offered, extending her free hand toward her.
“Careful with it, though, my camera’s in there.”
Yennefer hesitated for a moment, but only briefly.
“Well, I guess that’s where my good manners end,” she said, lifting her hands to show they were full. “You’ll have to close the door yourself.”
She gestured toward the car door, and Triss quickly grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. A little too hard. Yennefer shot her a mock-threatening look, to which Triss covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a laugh.
Shaking her head, Yennefer walked to the trunk. She neatly stored the car seat and placed Triss's backpack next to it, making sure it wouldn't slide around during the drive. She closed the trunk and made her way to the front, getting into the driver's seat.
“Is slamming the door like that really necessary?” Yennefer glanced at Triss, raising an eyebrow as she lightly closed her door, showing her how it's done.
“Sorry, you made me nervous,” Triss said, buckling her seatbelt.
“I made you nervous? How?”
“When you opened the door… I don't know why, but I thought…”
“Don't worry about it, let's not make a big deal out of it. I can see why you took it that way, honestly.” She fastened her seatbelt, glancing at Pontar, who was still calmly lying in the back. “I decided to just play along like that was the plan.”
“Okay!” Triss laughed. “Let's change the subject.”
“Mhm.”
“So, where are we headed?”
Yennefer pulled out of the parking lot and merged into traffic.
“I'm going to make a quick stop at the station, and then we're heading straight to Witch's Hill. We'll take a walk there.”
“Are we organizing a sabbath?” Triss laughed.
“I think two witches isn't quite enough for that.”
“You’ve got to start somewhere. They’ll flock to us when they see us, trust me…”
Yennefer shook her head. Ever since she’d seen Triss, she hadn’t been able to stop smiling. The subtle tension she’d felt wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as she’d imagined. In fact, she was feeling pretty comfortable.
“Thanks for answering those questions so quickly,” Triss said.
“No problem,” Yennefer replied casually. “Although I have to admit, some of them were... challenging.”
“Challenging?” Triss snorted, amused. “What about me? You have no idea how intriguing some of your answers were.” She laughed softly. “How could you leave me hanging like that, telling me you became a rescuer because you had a dangerous accident? A normal person would die of curiosity, let alone a journalist! Do you know what you did to me that evening?”
“I have no idea, tell me,” Yennefer replied playfully, glancing at her mischievously.
“I came up with a few scenarios for that story, but you have to tell me!”
“Mmm, but only if you guess what kind of accident it was. You’ve got three chances.”
“I’m sure it was a cave accident!” Triss exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Wrong.”
“Oh, really?” Triss furrowed her brow, surprised. “Well, maybe that’s for the best... caves aren’t exactly pleasant.” She pondered for a moment, squinting her eyes. Yennefer stopped the car at a red light and looked at her curiously.
“I’ve got it! It fits perfectly! You were buried by an avalanche, and then a rescue dog found you!”
“Nope,” Yennefer smiled slyly. “Last chance.”
The light turned green, and Yennefer accelerated a bit too quickly, pushing them both back into their seats.
“What if I don’t guess right?” Triss asked, tilting her head toward Yennefer.
“Too bad. Maybe another time...” Yennefer replied with a hint of amusement.
“Seriously, you’re not going to tell me?”
Yennefer shot her a sideways glance, her tone suddenly more serious.
“Do you need to write about it?” she asked directly. “Honestly, Triss, is it really that important for your article?”
“That depends...” Triss sighed, thinking. “But... you don’t want to talk about it, do you?”
“No, definitely not for the paper,” Yennefer said calmly, looking ahead. “Although... it’s very likely you could find information about the accident. It made the news.”
“I’ll manage without that information,” Triss suddenly straightened up as if to close the topic. Her voice was firm.
“Are you sure?” Yennefer asked, sneaking a glance at her.
“Yes, I don’t want you to do anything that feels wrong to you,” Triss smiled warmly. “I know what it’s like when you don’t want to share something, and I respect that. I’ll only mention as much as you wrote yourself. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Yennefer replied quietly, feeling herself relax. She hadn’t even realized how tense her body had become. “Thank you, Triss.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Yennefer felt a warmth radiating from Triss’s gaze. It was that strange feeling – something she hadn’t expected and something that surprised her. Her cheeks burned slightly for a brief second. She quickly looked away, focusing back on the road.
“So, we’re going to the station?” Triss shifted the subject slightly.
“Yeah, I need to change and report that I’m in the field,” Yennefer replied, still watching the road. “We can’t just wander around the mountains in uniform. Plus, the volunteer hours will start counting right away.”
“No problem,” Triss smiled, but her expression shifted as if something puzzled her. “What’s the deal with those volunteer hours anyway? You mentioned it, but I don’t really get it.”
“The MCR started out as a fully volunteer-based service. It still has more volunteers than professional rescuers. Anyone who wants to be part of the team has to clock in a hundred volunteer hours per year. Even the ones who work there professionally have to do it.”
“That makes no sense. You guys already work there, and then you have to come in for free too?”
Yennefer smiled, noticing the surprise on Triss’s face.
“It's more of a tradition,” she explained. “Besides, it's May, and I've got less than 10 hours left to reach my hundred. It's not like we don't have lives outside of work and would rather spend all our days there,” she joked. “But the truth is, we end up going back there a lot because… well, just because. Everyone who's part of the team feels that pull, and every rescuer will tell you the same. A week off feels like you're cut off from that life. When Ciri's at school, I don't know what to do with myself. How much can you clean the house?”
“Don't you have any hobbies?” Triss asked curiously.
“I do,” Yennefer laughed softly. “But many things I do with Ciri or when I'm sitting at the base. Sometimes there are days when nothing happens, and you have the whole day to yourself. When you get home, you don't really know what to do with yourself. A good action would be nice…”
“Right…” Triss chuckled quietly, but after a moment she added, “I still think those volunteer hours are strange.”
Yennefer shrugged.
“I think the people who need help might see it differently.”
“No, Yen, I didn't mean it like that,” Triss said, a bit flustered. “I admire and respect what you do, but… it's just kind of… weird. I can't explain it better, and a hundred hours is a lot.”
“A hundred hours is just four days, Triss. It's really not much.”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
“Plenty of things depend on perspective,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you know when we most often get those volunteer hours? When we go out on a call at the end of our shift. Like what happened on Saturday. No one's going to pull us back home after just a few minutes into the call. We're not going to wait around for the next shift to come save people. On Saturday, I should have finished my shift at 8 PM, but I didn't leave until after 10 PM, so those extra hours just added up.”
“They could have paid you for that.”
“This is not a job you do for money.”
“It's hard to believe,” Triss looked at her skeptically. “It may sound beautiful, but surely not everyone thinks so.”
“Triss, after a few years, I'm earning not much more than a cashier at a typical store. You can ask Philippa. As the chief of our shift, she doesn't make that much more, and I suspect she makes extra from her business outside the service. Almost all of us have a second job, or we live modestly without any luxuries.”
“And you? What do you do on the side?”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.
“Are you going to write about that?”
“What? No, I’m talking to you like a friend,” Triss straightened up, trying to convince Yennefer with her tone. “If I need more information for the article, I’ll tell you directly.”
“Alright,” Yennefer said, slightly taken aback, as the word friend left an impression on her. She would never call someone she was talking to for the second time in her life a friend. But she figured Triss was probably much better at forming connections. “I don't have a side job. Not yet. I'd like to, but I already feel like I'm not spending enough time with Ciri.”
“It's easier when there are two of you, right? Where does your husband work that makes it possible for you both to manage everything?”
“Umm, I don't have a husband.” Yennefer answered after a brief pause. “Geralt, Ciri's father, is a paramedic, and he doesn't live with us. We split up when Ciri was a year old.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't know.”
“Don't be.” Yennefer waved her hand dismissively. “We're still friends, and he's very much involved as a father. It's not like I have to do everything on my own. I think that's why I haven't lost my mind yet. I have my schedule set for the entire year in advance, so he's able to arrange his shifts, so there's always someone to look after Ciri. If something comes up, we have babysitters, but for now, this system works pretty well.”
“Now I admire you even more,” Triss said it so naturally and sincerely that Yennefer was certain she misheard. “But I guess I can't write about that in the article, right?” she added jokingly.
Yennefer glanced at her, slightly narrowing her eyes.
“I know all of this could make the article a bit more dramatic...”
“With your mysterious accident thrown in, I'd have first place locked in!” Triss laughed, teasing. “But I'm not that kind of person. Sometimes I worry that because of it, I'll never be a real journalist.”
“Does being a real journalist have to mean being a bitch?” Yennefer asked, raising an eyebrow, and Triss burst out laughing.
“I hope not,” Triss replied, then suddenly perked up. “Oh! Can I turn this up? This is one of my favorite songs,” she quickly changed the subject.
Yennefer didn't respond, simply reached over to adjust the volume knob slightly, turning the music up. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Triss relaxing back into her seat, softly humming the melody to herself.
The parking lot in front of the station was large, but even so, it was difficult to find an empty spot. Yennefer parked a bit crookedly near the entrance.
“I'll be right back,” Yennefer said, unbuckling her seatbelt and turning off the engine. She left the key in the car and hurried into the building.
She jogged up the steps to the porch, passing a rescuer from another shift along the way. They exchanged a quick handshake before Yennefer headed straight inside, making her way to the duty room.
She quickly explained where she'd be and what she was doing. She took a small medical backpack and a radio from him, then ran further to the locker room to change out of her uniform. She pulled on red pants with reflective strips and a navy-blue shirt with the station's emblem. After a moment's thought, she threw on her paramedic vest – light, breathable, and full of pockets. It was also red, and Yennefer figured it would probably look better in the photos. With her clothes in hand, she headed back to the car, ready to go.
“That was quick,” Triss commented as Yennefer got back in.
“Habit from work—we don't usually have much time,” Yennefer replied, tossing her clothes onto the back seat. They landed next to Pontar's head. He gave her a sideways glance, looking almost offended. “Ready?” she asks Triss.
“Yeah, you can go.”
The drive to Witch Hill took only a few minutes. Yennefer parked on a gravel lot just before the forest. The shade of the trees offered a refreshing coolness. She clipped Pontar’s leash on. She put on a small medical backpack and took Triss's things out of the trunk. The two moved ahead, walking along a narrow path deep into the forest.
The forest around them was mostly made up of pines. Their tall, bare trunks stretched high above, forming a roof of a thousand twigs and tiny needles over them. Despite the hot day, sunlight barely pierced through. It was bright, but the forest floor was bathed in a soft shadow. Between the pines grew thick patches of blueberry bushes, their light green leaves creating a vast, soft-looking carpet. The path they walked on was also soft, covered by layers of fallen pine needles. Their steps were quiet and light. There was silence all around, and the only sounds around were the occasional bird call and the rustling of the trees. They walked straight ahead, the path snaking gently in front of them, but never with sharp turns. Their conversation flowed naturally, was light, and easy.
“The forests here are beautiful,” Triss suddenly sighed softly. “So different from the ones in Maribor…”
“Are you from Temeria?” Yennefer was surprised, not knowing why she was convinced that Triss had always lived here.
“I lived there as a child, and I used to run around the woods a lot,” Triss said dreamily. “But the forests there were mostly deciduous. I remember there were pine trees growing in one place. That forest was dark, and my mother always told me that Baba Yaga lived there. We were afraid to go there when we were younger, but when I grew older, I stopped being curious about it.”
“Oh, come on, I bet you were still afraid of the old witch,” Yennefer teased with a playful smile.
“You got me, just don't tell anyone,” Triss laughed. “But I think I like these forests more. This whole part of the Kestrel Mountains is incredible. There are these rock formations that I've never seen anywhere else. And the valleys! I love them!” she sighed. “Though Philippa keeps telling me I should see how the Great Kestrel looks someday, but honestly, the idea of tackling such high peaks scares me a bit.”
“Have you never been to the high mountains?”
Triss shook her head slightly. Yennefer could see the pure enjoyment on her face as she admired the surrounding landscape. She was glad she'd chosen this trail.
“Well, trekking around the foothills of the Great Kestrel is a wonderful trip in itself too. Personally, I think I prefer long hikes around the base of the mountains rather than constantly chasing summits,” Yennefer continued.
“I hadn't thought of that. Can you really do that? Just walk around the mountain without going too high.”
“Of course you can. I'm not saying it's easy. The terrain is still demanding, but if you're well-prepared and,” she caught Triss's gaze, “you bring a good guide, it'll be a fantastic trip.”
“Maybe one day I'll go for it.”
Yennefer kept glancing at Triss and noticed how intently she was listening, smiling as she took in every word. She forced herself to look away. Triss's eyes, despite their cool color, held so much warmth. Yennefer shifted her focus to Pontar, who was walking slowly, nose to the ground. She tightened her grip on the leash slightly and bit her lower lip. Triss walked lightly beside her, occasionally hopping over roots, all the while continuing to chat.
As they emerged from the forest, a green hill rose before them, towering over the landscape. From below, it looked massive. White, raw rocks stood in stark contrast to the lush greenery, sharply outlined against the plants. The limestone formations seemed like someone had hammered them into the ground with immense force thousands of years ago. Some jutted up dozens of meters into the air, standing alone and strong. Others leaned against one another, as if they were pressing together with tremendous power. There were also rocks that looked as though they naturally grew out of the hill itself, rising at a slight angle before dropping into flat walls. The walls perfect for climbing. The surface of the rocks was rough, full of cracks and crevices. Their colors ranged from nearly snow-white to various shades of gray. Low shrubs and junipers grew on them, but the vegetation was far richer than one might expect from such a rugged terrain. A few small trees grew on the tops of the solitary rocks, something that always fascinated Yennefer. A testament to the strength of nature itself. They kept walking along a narrow path surrounded by green grass. The trail stretched out straight for quite a while before finally splitting near a small triangular rock.
They both stopped there. Triss pulled out her camera from her backpack, while Yennefer looked around. It was a Tuesday morning—there shouldn’t be too many people here.
“Know any secret paths?” Triss asked, a playful glint in her eye.
“No,” Yennefer replied. “Here, you can walk wherever you like. You don’t have to stick to the path. There are no crevices or caves around, and you’ve got good shoes… Worst-case scenario, I know a little bit about first aid.”
“A little?” Triss raised an eyebrow.
“Just a little, but it should be enough.” Yennefer said it seriously, though it was hard for her to suppress a smile. “Let’s go this way.” She pointed to a path winding among the smaller rocks and leading to the top. “From up there, it’ll be easier to figure out what to do next.”
“Okay,” Triss said, slinging the camera strap over her neck. “Will you go first? I’d like to get a few shots. The rocks look great from this angle.”
“Sure, just don’t get lost,” Yennefer teased, giving Pontar the command to stay close to her.
“I’ll try my best,” Triss called back cheerfully.
Yennefer nodded and began making her way up. The hill wasn’t particularly difficult, but it was always wise to stay cautious when climbing uphill. The narrow trails were scattered with loose stones—it would be easy to slip and twist an ankle. And that was definitely not on Yennefer’s agenda for the day, or any other day, for that matter. A little caution was always the better choice.
A light breeze flowed between the rocks, making the high temperature a bit more bearable. A few tiny clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky, each with strange, varied shapes. Just like the rocks, they took on odd forms. Yennefer used to lie on the grass with Ciri, naming the clouds as they passed by. Now that Ciri was older, they did the same thing with the rocks. Yennefer smiled at the thought of her daughter.
The hill was empty, though Yennefer was sure she’d heard voices earlier. It was likely someone preparing for a climb. She felt a slight pang of envy. She used to spend a lot of time with Philippa on climbing walls—it had been their favorite sport. But lately, neither of them had much time for it. And even though Yennefer liked doing many things alone, climbing was something she felt required another person’s presence.
She wondered briefly if Triss would be up for climbing.
The thought flitted through her mind, and she could almost picture the look on Triss’s face—excited, eager to start the climb. At least, Yennefer imagined it would be like that. She didn’t really know her yet, hardly at all. She realized now that, so far, they had kept the conversation going effortlessly, and the moments of silence hadn’t been awkward. Damn, she had been so worried about that. But now, she felt comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that she began to find it a little strange.
Thinking of her, Yennefer glanced over her shoulder, looking down. Triss was a few steps behind her, staring at the screen of her camera. Yennefer sighed.
“Watch your step, Triss.”
“Huh?” Triss looked up, slightly startled.
“Don't just stare at the screen. Watch your step. It's easy to slip on these rocks,” Yennefer explained, gesturing toward the loose stones and pieces of rock scattered all over the path.
“Sorry,” Triss said, smiling, a little embarrassed.
Yennefer waited for Triss to catch up to her, and together they continued up the hill.
“Oh, what about going there?” Triss asked suddenly when they were almost at the top.
She pointed toward a group of low, jagged rocks. They stood close together, all with triangular shapes, looking like a row of sharp teeth. Behind them, small trees grew, separating the rocks from a towering twenty-meter-high rock wall.
“Sure,” Yennefer said. “I can hop over there with Pontar, but I think that rock over there might be more interesting.” She smiled, pointing off to the right.
Triss had clearly not noticed it before, being too focused on what was right in front of her. In the direction Yennefer was pointing, two massive rocks stood tall. Both were fairly high, and between them ran one of the narrow paths.
This formation, known as the Lovers' Gate, was one of the most charming spots in the area. Two light gray, nearly identical rocks stood facing each other on either side of the path. Slightly leaning towards one another, they connected at the very top, forming a natural arch. Their shape resembled two figures locked in an eternal kiss. Despite their massiveness and rugged appearance, the stone figures had a surprisingly delicate quality.
The Lovers' Gate was also one of the best viewpoints around. Standing beneath it, one could glimpse a distant horizon. The highest peaks of the Kestrel Mountains stood out, their deep blue color contrasting with the clear sky.
“Wow, let's go there!” Triss said excitedly, jumping a little as she eagerly headed in that direction. Yennefer quickly reached out, grabbing her backpack.
“One step at a time, Triss,” she said, pointing to the spot ahead of them. “You wanted to take pictures on those rocks, so let's go there first.” Yennefer heard Triss grumble something under her breath, so she added, “I'll climb there with Pontar; our uniforms will look stunning against those green trees!”
They climbed higher, and Yennefer pointed to the left side.
“We'll go there and walk across the summit, practicing balance and walking by the edge in difficult conditions,” Yennefer continued.
“Go ahead, climb, and I'll get a few more shots along the way. And be careful,” she added, mimicking Yennefer's voice.Yennefer glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. At that exact moment, she heard the click of the camera shutter. With disbelief, she tilted her head slightly to the right. Another shot. She turned back, shaking her head and smiling to herself, making sure Triss didn't notice. Triss didn't need to have everything at once. Yennefer released Pontar from his leash. Now, all they needed were the right commands.
For the next several minutes, they roamed around the summit, working together better than Yennefer had expected. She had never been fond of being photographed, but in her uniform and among the rocks, she felt confident. She felt like she was just a rescuer, and that’s all others would see. There were none of her emotions, no private feelings—at least that's what she told herself.
Even though Triss had asked her a few times to pose, Yennefer didn’t find it tiring. She pretended to be reluctant, grumbled a bit, and commented on Triss’s ideas, but deep down, she was having a great time. Pontar was happy too. He wagged his tail the entire time and had plenty of energy for play.
When they descended a little lower, they finally found some shade. Yennefer stopped when she heard a quiet sigh to her right. Triss had also come to a stop, clearly captivated by the view. Yennefer could see her slightly shining blue eyes, the tip of her nose slightly upturned, and a few loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She noticed Triss’s lips, parted in awe, and swallowed hard.
For the next several minutes, they roamed around the summit, working together better than Yennefer had expected. She had never been fond of being photographed, but in her uniform and among the rocks, she felt confident. She felt like she was just a rescuer, and that’s all others would see. There were none of her emotions, no private feelings—at least that's what she told herself.
Even though Triss had asked her a few times to pose, Yennefer didn’t find it tiring. She pretended to be reluctant, grumbled a bit, and commented on Triss’s ideas, but deep down, she was having a great time. Pontar was happy too. He wagged his tail the entire time and had plenty of energy for play.
When they descended a little lower, they finally found some shade. Yennefer stopped when she heard a quiet sigh to her right. Triss had also come to a stop, clearly captivated by the view. Yennefer could see her slightly shining blue eyes, the tip of her nose slightly upturned, and a few loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She noticed Triss’s lips, parted in awe, and swallowed hard.
“It's so beautiful here,” Triss sighed.
“Mhm,” Yennefer muttered in agreement. She wasn't confident her voice would sound normal right now.
What's going on?
The panorama before them was stunning. Yet, Yennefer realized that wasn't the only thing she found beautiful. That thought made her uncomfortable. Inappropriate. But then again, she figured, she could appreciate someone's beauty, right? It didn't have to mean anything.
“Thank you for this walk,” Triss said as she pulled a small plastic container from her backpack and stepped closer to Yennefer. The smell of chocolate instantly filled the space between them, and Yennefer suddenly realized how hungry she was. “Help yourself, I baked them last night.”
“Oh, thanks,” Yennefer said, picking up one of the soft cupcakes drizzled with chocolate and topped with colorful sprinkles. “Did you really make these yourself?”
“Yes, I love baking. Whenever there's a chance, I always whip up something.”
“Are you showing off?” she joked. “Maybe you should open a bakery instead of doing journalism,” Yennefer teased, taking a bite. It was delicious—banana and chocolate.
“I've thought about it,” Triss laughed. “Do you like it?”
“It's great,” Yennefer admitted.
“Have as much as you want,” Triss said, holding the container in such a way that they could continue walking and eating comfortably.
They walked slowly downhill, with Pontar circling around them but never straying too far. Silence settled over them again, peaceful and relaxing. She realized how much she needed this. It was the second time in the past few days that she'd felt that way. Clearly, she was getting old... or maybe loneliness had begun to weigh on her more than she realized. Maybe she really did need a true friend. Not her ex... not a coworker who lived only for the job, but someone... normal? She didn't want anything more than that. Just peace and someone normal. Why did Triss seem like the perfect candidate for that role?
“May I ask you something?” Triss suddenly blurted out, pulling Yennefer from her thoughts.
“You can,” Yennefer murmured, “but I don't promise I'll answer.”
“Ah, I've already learned that,” Triss replied playfully, offering Yennefer the box of cupcakes. She hopped up onto a small rock, then leaped onto another. “How long have you known Philippa?”
“I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that question...”
Triss laughed.
“Why? Aren't you two friends?”
“Yeah, we met at university, and everyone in our group liked us very much,” she said sarcastically. “We're pretty similar, so it was inevitable we'd end up sticking together.”
“Did you live with her back then?” Triss asked.
Yennefer watched as Triss jumped effortlessly from stone to stone. She was acting a bit like a child, for whom simply walking along the path wasn’t exciting enough. Pontar was bouncing alongside her, wagging his tail, clearly enjoying the game as much as she was.
“Yeah,” Yennefer said cautiously, furrowing her brow. “We rented a studio apartment together.”
“How did you manage to survive your entire studies with her?” Triss hopped up onto a larger stone and looked Yennefer in the eye.
“We only lived together for two years. I spent the first year in a dorm... after that experience, living with Philippa was a breeze.” She walked closer to Triss and offered her hand. Triss grabbed it and jumped down hard onto the ground.
“How did you end up working together?” Triss continued her questions. Yennefer now saw the true journalist in her.
“We both love climbing, and when I told her I wanted to become a mountain rescuer, she signed up as a volunteer with me. She got hooked quickly. That adrenaline rush—it’s addictive. But I think from the start, Philippa saw herself in a leadership role. She’s good at what she does; if something seems impossible, for Philippa, it's no problem. She’s probably the youngest chief in MCRS history, and on top of that, she’s a woman. A lot of people still have a problem with that, but that’s Philippa... she doesn’t care about that stuff.” Yennefer explained. “As for working together—we’ve been in this from the start, and I’ve always known I could count on her. We both passed the exams to become professional rescuers at the same time, and we got hired here in Montecalvo. We worked as a team for a long time, but then she wanted a promotion.”
“Ohh, do I sense regret in your voice?” Triss laughed, hoping again from one small rock to another, waving her arms to keep her balance.
“Definitely not,” Yennefer said thoughtfully, watching Triss’s playful movements.
“Sure, if you say so.”
“And how did you meet her?” Yennefer asked hesitantly, trying to keep the conversation going. She never quite knew if she should ask those kinds of questions or not.
“It probably won't be surprising if I say we met on a dating app?” Triss asked, slightly embarrassed and avoiding Yennefer's gaze.
“No, that actually fits perfectly with her casual lifestyle,” Yennefer said calmly, though it took her a moment to realize that maybe she shouldn't have said that to Triss. She didn't seem like the type of person who was really into that kind of relationship.
Triss sighed, which confirmed Yennefer's suspicion that she should have kept that comment to herself. She watched as Triss's shoulders dropped, and she stepped down from the rock back onto the grass.
“You know, I don't really like that about her,” Triss said quietly. “You've known her a long time... Has she ever been in a more serious relationship? I mean... you know what I mean, right?”
“I do, but it's hard for me to imagine someone being in a relationship with her and not accepting that this is who she is,” Yennefer replied, trying to phrase it delicately. “She's always been like that, and I've known her long enough to be sure that it's not going to change. Some people say that's part of her charm.”
“Do you like it?”
“No, I never liked it. That part of her life doesn't really affect me, so I guess I don't care. I'm not going to tell her what to do.” Yennefer paused, remembering their last conversation about Triss. “But sometimes I do tell her what I think if I feel like she's crossing a line.”
Triss stood still for a moment. Yennefer wanted to ask if everything was okay, but she wasn't sure if she should... or if this was something she needed or wanted to know. She didn't know what to do, so she simply held out the little box to Triss. Ugh, that felt so pathetic. But Triss smiled anyway, took a cupcake, and they continued walking side by side.
Yennefer nervously glanced at her watch. Ciri would be out of school in less than two hours. The strange tightness in her chest was probably a sign that Yennefer wasn't ready to end this hike. Not yet.
“How about we head all the way down and loop back through the forest?” she asked, a hint of hope in her voice. By her calculations, they should have enough time.
“Sure, lead the way,” Triss said with a smile. Pontar was now walking beside her, and Yennefer wondered if he felt just as comfortable in her company. That shaggy dog had an incredible intuition and always seemed to sense people's intentions perfectly.
The slope they were descending was fairly steep. Triss, still full of energy, was now running downhill with the rescue dog at her side. Yennefer watched her tensely, taking a much more cautious approach herself. She barely held back the urge to yell out and tell Triss not to run down the hill, but damn it... She wasn't her mother. She just hoped nothing bad would happen.
Yennefer observed as they reached the bottom. Pontar lay on the ground and rolled over onto his back, clearly begging for some attention. Even from that distance, Yennefer could hear Triss's loud laughter. She watched as the girl knelt beside him and began rubbing him vigorously between his front paws.
“What took you so long, lady rescuer?” Triss teased when Yennefer finally joined them.
“Running down that slope was a brilliant decision, lady journalist,” Yennefer replied sarcastically.
Triss laughed and looked at her.
“C'mon, I ran cross-country in high school...”
“Triss…”
“Alright, alright, Mom, I'm sorry,” Triss said, standing up. Pontar let out a pitiful whine and gave her a sad look. “I didn't realize he was such a pet dog.”
Yennefer shook her head and started walking again. She made a barely noticeable hand gesture and clicked her tongue. The dog immediately got up and fell in step beside her.
“Now you're showing off,” Triss said, matching her pace.
“Maybe a little,” Yennefer admitted. “When it comes to Pontar, he's a total cutie. Once you've petted him and given him a bit of affection, he'll remember it.”
“At first, he didn't even want me to touch him.”
“Maybe he did,” Yennefer mused, “but he knows he's not allowed to.”
“Only when you give him permission?”
“Yes.”
“Could you make him stop allowing me to pet him again?”
Yennefer gave her a careful look.
“I could, but so far, aside from running down the hill, you haven't done anything that stupid for me to…”
“Oh, come on,” Triss playfully nudged her shoulder, “nothing happened... Jeez, are you all such stiff, serious types?”
“All?”
“Philippa's always over the top too. I've been hiking with her a few times, but she always treats me like a child.”
“She worries about you,” Yennefer said, feeling a slight pang inside. “But I'll agree with you on one thing. When it comes to safety, we're all pretty rigid. If someone's close to us, we're not going to take unnecessary risks.”
“Can't you ever let things slide?”
“I don't know, I can't,” Yennefer admitted. “It's hard for me to watch. If something had happened to you today, I'd be furious that I hadn't yelled at you more effectively.”
“Do you really worry about me?”
“I invited you here, so I feel responsible for you, and before you say anything—” She raised her hand slightly. “I know it's silly.”
“It's sweet,” Triss laughed, “but also silly, I'll admit. I'm an adult, I know what could happen if I run downhill...”
“Oh, yeah, I saw all that responsibility in your goofy smile,” Yennefer cut in, but her voice was cheerful.
Triss looked at her and exaggerated her smile. Yennefer was usually very annoyed by such silly behavior. She must've been either really tired or in an excellent mood to tolerate it from Triss. The problem was that she felt completely normal. She shook her head, trying to look at her with disdain. Suddenly, Triss tripped, and Yennefer instinctively grabbed her arm, stopping her from falling. She just tilted her head slightly and took a deep breath. She kept all the comments that were on the tip of her tongue to herself.
“Jeez, thank you,” Triss said, looking at her. “See? You can run down a hill and trip on flat ground.”
“Let's drop this topic,” Yennefer quickly changed the subject. “How many photos do you need for the article?”
“I didn't expect that question,” Triss imitated Yennefer's serious tone.
“Merigold...” Yennefer warned, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, come on, let me tease you a little.”
“Tease me? Am I teasing you?”
“No, not at all... your sarcasm isn't meant for that, right?” Triss asked. Yennefer shook her head as Triss continued, “I need six photos. When I was thinking about what photos to take of Philippa, six felt like plenty. But I've taken so many of you two that I'm going to have to narrow it down. Just look—” She turned around and grabbed Yennefer by the shoulders. Yennefer blinked quickly, surprised. Triss turned her around so she was facing the hill behind them. “It's so beautiful here that I could take another hundred stunning shots of you. See that rock over there?” She pointed ahead.
Yennefer tensed up. Triss was leaning against her backpack, her outstretched arm nearly brushing her shoulder, and damn, she was so close, practically speaking, right into her ear. She looked at the rock, but the world around her suddenly felt a bit blurry.
“If you climbed there, I could take a picture from below. Just the sky in the background. It would be a gorgeous shot.” Triss stepped back.
Yennefer exhaled slowly and turned toward her. The distance from Triss didn't bring the relief she expected. She usually hated when people invaded her personal space, happy when they backed off, but now she still felt tense and unsure of what she wanted.
“But I won't take any more photos, or it'll be even harder for me to choose,” Triss finished, furrowing her brow slightly as she looked at Yennefer. At that moment, the rescuer realized that Triss had noticed her strange behavior. She had to regain control quickly. She couldn't lose it that easily.
“I'm wondering,” she said slowly, glancing around.
“No, no... I'm not taking any more pictures of you two. Don't even ask me.” Triss waved her hand, and the tension instantly dissolved. They started walking again. “Besides, I'd just lean over a bit too far, and you'd be yelling at me from that rock to be careful.”
“I won't deny it.” Yennefer smirked slightly.
The path they were on finally led deeper into the forest. The smell of pine and wood was incredibly strong. Yennefer took a deep breath. Triss walked beside her with a light, bouncy step. A bright smile never left her face, and Yennefer couldn't help but feel her enthusiasm rubbing off on her. Trying to keep her expression under control, she said:
“Can't you walk normally here either? Are you going to start jumping through the trees?”
“I thought we were done with that topic.” Triss laughed and started hopping over the roots that were sticking out of the ground.
“Now you're doing it on purpose, Triss.”
Triss didn't respond; she just gave her a playful, challenging look and continued her bouncy walk.
Yennefer watched Triss again, wondering why her behavior didn't drive her crazy. In fact, it had the opposite effect—she felt something inside her unwind. The whole situation amused her, but not in a mocking way. Triss was charming and joyful. Those emotions were contagious, and Yennefer found she couldn't control them. She could only behave this calmly and lightheartedly around Ciri, who had a very similar energy to Triss. Maybe that was the reason?
Usually, she couldn't stand people as energetic and loud as Triss. Usually—but this time it was different. She watched as Triss turned and walked back toward her. Before she realized it, a small smile appeared on her face. She tried to suppress it, but the harder she tried, the worse it got.
“Yen, look!” Triss called, approaching her. “Stand here,” she said, reaching out to place her hand on Yennefer's shoulder. Yennefer didn't flinch away from the touch, shocking even herself. Triss gently turned her to show her a small rock, not far from the path. “Do you think Pontar can get up there?”
Yennefer nodded in agreement.
“Can I take another picture of you two here?” Triss finally revealed her plan.
“Sure,” Yennefer replied with a faint smile.
Pontar climbed onto the rock, which was almost as white as he was. He looked magnificent, standing bathed in a soft beam of light that made its way through the dense roof of the forest canopy.
“Just take the picture of him,” Yennefer said, standing beside Triss. She couldn't help but smile; Pontar looked magical.
She could feel Triss glancing at her, but Yennefer kept her eyes on her dog. Triss was standing far too close, and she didn't want to risk meeting her eyes at such a short distance. She wanted to run away, but she also wanted to stay right there. Those two conflicting emotions waged a fierce battle inside her. She must have been tired… Yes, that had to be it—she was just tired. She'd go to bed early tonight, and everything would go back to normal.
After a few minutes, they reached the car. Yennefer opened the door, and Pontar eagerly jumped inside, immediately settling comfortably on the back seat and closing his eyes.
“What are you tired of, Pontar?” she laughed.
“Sit down, and you'll understand,” Triss replied, sinking into the passenger seat.
It turned out Triss was right. Yennefer sat in her seat, and as her back and head rested against the seat, she felt the fatigue slowly spread through her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Triss trying to hide a smile behind her hand.
“Don't even say anything, Merigold,” she muttered, starting the engine.
“I'm not saying a thing,” Triss responded seriously, though the smile lingered on her face.
“But you're laughing.”
“I am not.”
Yennefer buckled her seatbelt and gave Triss a mock-threatening look. Triss snorted with laughter and quickly turned her head, pretending to look out the window.
Yennefer sighed dramatically, turning up the volume on the radio. She pulled out of the parking lot, and the car fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of the music. Yennefer focused on the road, letting the loud music drown out her own thoughts. Next to her, Triss hummed along to familiar tunes, though it was clear she wasn't much of a singer. She often missed the notes, but once again, Yennefer didn't react. Normally, if someone was singing off-key while she drove, she'd tell them to cut it out immediately. Ciri and Cerys had great ears for music and could sing beautifully. Triss... well, not so much.
Yennefer bit her lip, holding back any remarks, not wanting to spoil Triss's enthusiasm. Every so often, she found herself smiling under her breath, hearing how hard Triss tried but couldn't quite get it right. She decided to focus more on the road, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music.
It was yet another trait of Triss that should have annoyed her, but instead, it sparked the same strange amusement inside her. Why were all of Triss's irritating quirks, which would normally trigger her frustration, having no negative effect on her at all?
She chalked it up to fatigue again. Maybe she not only needed to go to bed early but should also take a quick nap. The idea was getting more and more tempting.
Before dropping Triss off at her apartment, Yennefer quickly stopped by the station to return the gear and report that she was heading home.
Then, in the parking lot beneath Triss’s building, they said their goodbyes quickly, with Triss promising to send over the final article for review by Thursday at the latest. Yennefer waved at her as she disappeared around the corner of the building. Only then did she pull out of the parking lot.
The car still carried the sweet, raspberry scent of Triss, mixed with a hint of wild rose. Yennefer took a deep breath. Deep down, she knew she had grown to like this chatty journalist, and that could be dangerous. The fatigue she kept blaming wasn’t the real cause.
Logic told her that Triss surely had plenty of friends. She didn’t need another one—a frustrated, lonely mom. Triss was only spending time with her because of the article. Once it was done, there would be no reason for them to meet again. That serious voice in her head reminded her that she didn’t need a new friend either. She had Philippa, Geralt, and her work. She wouldn't have time for her anyway.
But her heart quietly whispered that if she wanted to, she could make the time and find the opportunity. This time, her heart wasn’t wrong.
The weather had changed over the week; it was no longer hot. The wind carried cooler air, and the temperature finally matched the season. It was late Thursday morning when Yennefer received a notification from the MCRS system: 'Alert: Search for a missing person.'
She barely had time to read the notification before another message came through, this time from Crach: 'Go, we'll take Ciri with us.' She quickly replied, 'Thank you,' and, calling for Pontar, she rushed out of the house. Already sitting comfortably in the car, she immediately dialed Triss, switching to speaker mode.
“Yennefer, what’s up?” Triss greeted her warmly.
“When’s your deadline for the article?” Yennefer asked quickly, not wasting time on formalities.
“I need to submit it by Monday, why…”
“How fast can you get to the unit?” Yennefer cut her off.
“Now? I don’t know... maybe fifteen minutes. Why? What’s going on?”
“There’s a search operation. If you want real action photos, call Philippa. Have her arrange a press pass for you, and you can come with us.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” Yennefer chuckled briefly. “Dress warmly, wear proper shoes, and get yourself something to eat. See you there.”
“You think I’ll make it?” Triss asked quickly, a hint of stress creeping into her voice.
“If you hurry, yes. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, and it’ll take some time to get through the briefing and coordinate everything. Just make sure you call Philippa. Even if she’s not around, the second chief can handle the pass.”
“Got it, see you there. Thanks!”
Triss hung up, and Yennefer sped toward the base. The adrenaline started pumping through her veins, gearing her up for the operation. She could feel her heart beating a bit faster, but she knew it wasn’t just because of the upcoming search.
Chapter 4
Notes:
Hi! First, I want to thank you all for your support, for every comment and all the kudos! It means so much to me. <3
I'm really glad you're enjoying the rescue action scenes—I was a bit nervous about tackling that topic.
I’ve also decided to include details about the date and location of the scenes. Not every time, but whenever I think it might help you follow along with the timeline a little easier.
As always, please let me know what you think of this chapter. Enjoy reading. ^^
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Thursday, May 23, 11:56 am
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
Yennefer walked confidently into the briefing room, with the dog by her left leg. There were already many people inside, rescuers as well as police officers. At the front, one officer stood alongside two chiefs from the MCRS. Everyone was facing them.
Yennefer immediately noticed Syanna, who was standing by the window with her arms folded over her chest. Syanna noticed her as well, giving her a quick wave and shifting closer to the wall to make room beside her.Yennefer made her way through the crowded room, sidestepping the occupied chairs, and said hello. She squatted on the windowsill and propped herself up with her hands. Pontar sat right next to her legs and carefully watched the German Shepherd, who, together with his handler, was standing in the corner on the other side of the room.
“Any updates?” she asked quietly, glancing at her friend.
“Think it’s some kid,” Syanna leaned in, lowering her voice.
“Damn…”
Yennefer felt a gentle pressure in her heart. Search actions with children were always the most difficult, and honestly, this was not what she expected. Situations like these were sensitive, and media presence was rarely welcomed. Although, was it ever really? On the other hand, Triss wasn't writing an article about this action.
He was the chief of the shift that had just been on duty. He stood between the police officer and Philippa, his silver hair contrasting against the dark board behind him.
“No, we’re still—”
“Right here!” Chireadan burst into the room, bracing himself against the wall and catching his breath. Yennefer resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, if anyone was going to show up at the last second, it’d be him.
The police officer with a tablet stepped forward. His face was serious, his voice calm, but Yennefer could hear a slight tension in it.
“A seventeen-year-old boy. He lives just under a mile from Moirren Valley,” he stated, and Yennefer felt a slight wave of relief. A teenager, not a child. “His parents reported him missing and are concerned he might intend to harm himself.”
The relief was fleeting.
“He spends a lot of time climbing in that area,” the officer continued, “but from what we can tell, his gear’s still at home. He’s not at school, and his phone’s unresponsive. None of his friends have heard from him either.”
Yennefer immediately began to analyze the situation. She knew the Moirren Valley like the back of her hand, it was extremely picturesque and beautiful. It had magnificent high rocks, perfect for climbing, and huge clearings. The Moirren River was like a blue, thin ribbon amidst the green grass. Unfortunately, its hills, despite their magnificent appearance, were very treacherous. If the boy was indeed planning to take his life…
She cut off that thought, giving her head a slight shake.
“We’ll need two teams,” the officer said, glancing down at his tablet. “One on the north side, the other on the south. We’ll sweep the valley from east to west, leading straight to the secondary base in the field. We already have patrols deployed around the entire area.”
Yennefer felt her muscles instinctively tighten at the mention of the northern ascent. Fifty-meter cliffs, hidden crevices, and sinkholes. It was a place where one misstep could lead to tragedy.
Her gaze involuntarily shifted around the room. Triss was still absent. Perhaps it was for the best.
“How many people do we have from outside my shift?” Arthur looked around the room. She raised her hand, along with Syanna, Chireadan, Roche, and several other rescuers.
“Are you all from Philippa?
“We are not,” the three rescuers in the front row said. Volunteers, fresh from training.
“A rescuer with a dog, five people in the field, and two rescuers on a quad. That's the bare minimum for the northern hill,” the officer did not take his eyes off the tablet.
“Phil, will you cover it?” Artur turned to the woman.
Yennefer watched her chief nod, leaning in to speak quietly to Artur with her hand covering her mouth. She was sure the woman was already assigning them tasks in her mind. Philippa had always been good at this. Quick decisions and accurate planning had brought her to this position.
“You three, you’re coming with us,” Philippa pointed to the volunteers, leaving no room for discussion.
It seemed that everyone knew perfectly well what to do.
The room was filled with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and hushed conversations. The police officers went out together with Arthur and the rescuers from his shift. Their task was to search for the southern hill. Yennefer waited, watching as Philippa gathered their team. Still, Triss hadn’t shown up.
“Roche, you’re leading the field team.” Philippa approached them, her voice low but firm. “Any issues, you call me. And remember, we’re working on their shift. No unnecessary risks and—”
“Why are you only telling me?” Roche crossed his arms, though there was more humor than offense in his tone.
“Keep your heads down and focus on the task. All of you.” Philippa cast a significant glance around the group. “We’ll be using channel twelve for comms—report everything directly to me.”
Yennefer listened carefully to the instructions. The northern hill had much less surface area than the southern one, but those damn rocks along its edge created a real maze. Only a sensitive dog's nose had a chance to pick up any trail there.
“Yennefer.” Philippa’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “You’re sticking to the edge of the hill. When the terrain slopes down toward the valley, don’t descend. The lower areas will be covered by groups from below. You’re keeping watch over these rocks, according to your map.”
“Got it,” she replied, nodding.
“Good luck,” Syanna murmured.
Yennefer allowed herself a slight smile. It wasn’t her first time on an operation like this.
“You all know what to do? ” Philippa looked around at the group. “If so, get suited up. I’ll be waiting in the garage.”
Yennefer headed for the locker room at a brisk pace, feeling the first surge of adrenaline beginning to course through her veins. She deftly braided her hair, flipping the thick braid over her right shoulder. Quickly, she changed from her regular clothes into her uniform.
Pontar sat still as she secured his red vest. His sharp gaze never left her. Yennefer often wondered how much her dog understood from these briefings. She was sure that he sensed the tension of difficult actions perfectly.
Yennefer muttered a curse under her breath.
“Hey,” she said casually, walking up to them.
Triss responded with a quick wave and a somewhat nervous grimace. Everyone looked like that before their first real mission. Yennefer remembered that feeling well.
“All set?” Roche asked, scanning their group. The rest of the rescuers joined them, all gathered by the vehicle, awaiting orders.
“Triss is riding with you,” Philippa announced. “Yennefer, keep an eye on her.”
“What?” Roche looked at Triss in surprise. “Don’t get me wrong… it’s nothing personal.”
“Then there’s no issue,” Philippa cut him off curtly.
Yennefer noticed Triss tense up. She took a step closer to her, pretending to make room for Pontar and Syanna, who were beside her. She wanted to signal to the journalist that she was on her side and hoped Triss would understand her strange behavior.
Philippa pulled out small devices from the vehicle, resembling old cell phones with tiny screens and a few buttons. She handed one to each team member.
“This is your zone,” she indicated, referring to the map displayed on the little screen of her device. “Turn them on when you reach your area. Green is Yennefer’s section, yellow for you guys, and orange for the quad team. The police will send real-time updates to headquarters, so you'll be informed of any changes immediately.”
Once the rescuers tucked away their trackers, Philippa held out one more.
“A locator for Pontar,” she handed it to Yennefer, then turned to address everyone. “If you’re all set, let's move. Chireadan and Coën, you’re on the quad; everyone else, into the vehicle.”
The group dispersed in no time, and each of them knew exactly what to do. Only Triss stood off to the side, clutching the suspenders of her backpack and casting uncertain glances around the garage filled with equipment and uniformed rescuers.
“Are you sure you want to come along?” Yennefer asked as she zipped her jacket and attached her radio to her left shoulder.
“Yes, will you tell me what to do?”
“In the car,” she nodded. “Come with me.”
Pontar jumped into the car with a slight run and immediately settled into his spot just behind the passenger seat. Yennefer held the door for Triss, who got in and took a seat on the bench beside Pontar, carefully sliding her pack under the seat. Yennefer slammed the door and quickly secured Pontar with a special leash. She sat down, squeezing in between Triss and Syanna. They crowded into the cramped space, but the adrenaline driving them effectively drowned out the discomfort. There was no room for comfort during the action, and she knew it well.
Roche turned on the lights and drove out of the garage. Outside, the piercing wail of the siren joined the flashing blue lights, pushing their adrenaline even higher.
“Everything okay?” Yennefer asked, watching as Pontar rested his head on Triss’s lap, her hand idly petting him between his ears.
“Yeah. What should I do, Yen?” Triss asked, her gaze fixed on Yennefer. Only a few inches separated them in the cramped vehicle.
“Stay close to me, and don't do anything stupid. This hill is a bit dangerous, but if you listen to me, you'll be fine.” She replied calmly. “I will keep you updated on everything, so there is no reason to stress.”
“Alright,” Triss replied, sounding relieved.
The sight of a relaxed Pontar, who leaned against Triss's legs and stared at her with confidence, brought a slight, uncontrollable smile to Yennefer's face.
“He likes you,” she murmured after a moment, the words slipping out as if they’d formed on their own.
“I like him too,” Triss replied, meeting Yennefer’s eyes.
The vehicle came to a halt in the gravel parking area. Yennefer quickly unclipped her seatbelt and attached Pontar to his leash. By the time she was out, the other rescuers had already leapt from the car, leaving the doors open behind them. She grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder, and cast a quick glance at Triss, who was standing outside by the car door, waiting for her.
She jumped out of the car, closed the door behind her, and, together with Triss approached the rest of the rescuers in their group.
“Follow me,” Philippa said loudly and moved toward the police van, which was a special field communication vehicle. It stood in the middle of the clearing, with long antennas sticking out of the roof, and was hard to miss.
Inside the police van, all heads of the emergency services were gathered. Yennefer recognized most of them, people she’d collaborated with on various operations. A few firefighters and police officers were also busy coordinating the search effort.
Philippa stepped inside while the rest of the group waited outside. Through the open door, Yennefer could see her leaning over maps, swiftly exchanging notes with the officers.
“Everything checks out with what I said back in the garage,” Philippa announced as she exited a few minutes later. “Report every half hour, even if you don’t find anything. After covering your area, head to the base on the far side of the valley. Got it?”
Everyone confirmed in unison, eager to get going and tackle their assigned roles.
“Yennefer,” Philippa turned to her. “Ves mentioned you’re to report to her. You and Pontar enter as firsts. Triss,” she said, looking over at the journalist. “Stick to Yennefer’s directions, no arguments.”
Yennefer nodded her understanding, and with Triss by her side, she stepped past Philippa and approached the police van. Inside, Ves was already waiting, leaning against a seat.
“Hey!” the female police officer said spoke briefly, reaching for a small plastic bag. “We got the boy's cap, so the dog could catch the trail. I’ll show you where to start.”
Ves hopped down onto the grass and led the way, Yennefer following closely, with Pontar immediately matching their pace. Triss stayed close by, her focus evident, taking in the seriousness of the situation.
Ves provided a few more details about the operation, then pointed them toward the entrance to the forest, located to the right of two enormous rocks. These rocks formed one of the many natural gateways in the area, leading into the valley. She guided them to the trail itself, which wound upward through the densely wooded hillside.
“This is your zone,” she said, stopping at last. “Stay close to the edge of the slope and keep an eye on your navigation.”
Yennefer nodded and gave a barely visible hand signal. Pontar, who had been focused solely on her, instantly noticed and positioned himself between her legs. She leaned forward slightly, unhooked his leash, and slipped it into her jacket pocket. After activating the dog’s locator, she tucked it into a special pocket in his vest. Taking the boy’s cap from Ves, she held it out to Pontar, who pressed his nose into it, inhaling deeply. His tail gave an eager wag.
Dogs didn’t fully grasp the gravity of the situation; for them, search missions were like a game. They would search for people and, in return, get their favorite treats or spend time playing with their handler.
“Take care of yourselves,” Ves said, turning on her heel and heading back toward the van.
Yennefer, still leaning over, gestured forward with an open hand.
“Seek,” she commanded.
The dog shot forward, his tail moving fluidly and the long hair at its end rippling with every step. He ran with his nose close to the ground, constantly changing direction as if checking every possible scent. His movements were quick but a bit chaotic. He dashed ahead, circled back, leapt into bushes, paused momentarily, and then darted off again.
Ahead of them lay challenging terrain. Somewhere within this rocky maze could be a lost teenager. Yennefer silently hoped he hadn’t done anything reckless.
Pontar’s white fur seemed to glow against the dark forest backdrop, making him easy to spot, even when he dove into dense bushes. He navigated the forest with incredible agility for such a large dog. The women followed in his lead, speeding up or slowing down when the dog suddenly started running along the path or fiercely sniffed at clumps of leaves.
At first, Pontar moved in his typical, high-energy rhythm. Yennefer knew this was only the initial phase. That burst of excitement always came at the start of an operation. After a few minutes, though, his movements became more measured. He still darted between bushes and rocks, but with a clear focus now. Glancing occasionally at the navigation device, Yennefer checked that they were staying within the designated area. She knew the dog hadn’t picked up anything yet, so she could let him scout the region at his pace.
The terrain ahead shifted every few dozen meters. The slope gradually climbed higher, and to their left rose a steep rock face, part of the formation known as Dragon’s Spine. Behind these seemingly gentle slopes lay a fifty-meter cliff that dropped straight down into the valley.
Pontar suddenly stopped by one of the rocks, lifting his nose higher. Yennefer’s attention sharpened immediately. The dog sniffed intently, but soon moved on.
“Did he find something?” Triss whispered.
“No, not yet. But something definitely caught his attention,” Yennefer replied, checking their position on the GPS. “Stay close and watch your step—this is where the crevices begin.”
Triss nodded, fully understanding and following her instructions. She picked things up quickly and seemed to fit right into the rhythm of the operation. Yennefer was slightly relieved, she was afraid she would have to watch over her like a small child. Their walk today, however, was nothing like the previous one, and Triss' responsible behavior made Yennefer proud of her.
They moved quietly, and Pontar continued to stop and thoroughly sniff the tall rocks. Yennefer watched his every move, alert for any subtle shift in his behavior. The forest around them grew denser, with the tree canopies overhead blocking out what little light broke through the overcast sky.
Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the crackle of the radio clipped to Yennefer’s left shoulder. She heard Roche in conversation with Philippa, and from what he said, they hadn’t found any sign yet.
“Yennefer, report for Philippa.” she heard her name on the radio.
“I report.”
“What’s your status?”
“Quiet so far. There is no solid trail yet. Pontar is checking the rocks.”
“Understood.”
As the radio quieted again, Yennefer heard the sound of a zipper. She glanced over to see Triss tucking her camera into her backpack.
“Too dark for photos?” she puzzled to her, again focusing her gaze on the dog.
“A little,” she admitted, and walked over to her. “Besides, I think I'd rather watch you. This looks very different from what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought it would be more action-packed, but here every move is deliberate and…” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “methodical?”
“Most of our work is exactly that,” Yennefer replied, following Pontar as he veered off the path and led them into the dense forest undergrowth. He moved calmly and steadily. It was easy to keep pace. “Mountain rescues are rarely thrilling or dramatic. That’s probably why there aren’t many movies about us,” she added with a small smile.
“Mhm,” Triss murmured in response, her attention now focusing on squeezing between trees and branches.
Yennefer felt a slight calm, simply from Triss’s presence. She saw how determined Triss was. She saw that the woman was bravely keeping step with her, not complaining at all, even though the work they were doing was not easy or pleasant. She really appreciated that the journalist understood the seriousness of the situation.
The next hours passed. In the meantime, Philippa checked in with them a few times, but the status remained the same. No new information on the boy’s whereabouts. At one point, Yennefer slowed, reaching into her pack and pulling out two water bottles. She handed one silently to Triss.
She took a long sip herself, watching Pontar, whose behavior was beginning to arouse her curiosity. She had been watching him circling various tall rocks for a long while, stopping at them, sniffing their bases, then returning to the path. Even when she sent him off to the other side of the forest, he would quickly return between the rocks.
She slipped the bottle into her backpack and gave the dog a command, wanting to check it again. She gestured to the right, sending the dog back the other way. However, the latter did the same again. After a short while, as if despite himself, he returned to the path, turned left, and headed toward the rocks. This was no coincidence. She felt a rush of adrenaline when she realized that Pontar sensed something.
She reached for the radio resolutely.
“Philippa report for Yennefer.”
“Reporting.”
“I’ve noticed a pattern with Pontar. He only leaves the path when we’re near tall rock formations. He sniffs around them, then goes back to the trail. He’s not interested in other directions.”
“You think the boy might have passed through there?”
“Maybe, but he’s just exploring, as if he’s trying to catch a stronger scent. It’s not definite yet.”
“Understood. Thanks for the update.”
Yennefer focused all her attention on the dog. She often had a hunch when he was onto something, as if she instinctively knew they were heading in the right direction. Triss walked beside her, clearly fascinated by dog’s work. Yennefer saw admiration and focus in her eyes, with a hint of seriousness that felt uncharacteristic of her.
Suddenly, Pontar lifted his head and darted into the bushes with quick, agile movements. Yennefer immediately broke into a run, trying not to lose sight of him.
“Watch your step, Triss,” she called, pointing to a small crevice near a tree. It wasn’t large enough to fall into, but it could easily twist an ankle. Without looking back, she kept her focus on the white blur of her dog, who looked a bit like a ghost. She was confident Triss had heard her and would manage. She sensed Triss close behind but felt at ease with her presence.
Pontar slowed down, and centrally in front of them, among the trees, grew a huge rock wall with a narrow and claustrophobic passage.
Without waiting, dog ventured into the narrow gap and continued his search. Yennefer glanced back at Triss, unsure how well she’d handle the truly challenging terrain.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Triss said, nodding for emphasis. Yennefer noticed a mix of awe and a bit of fear in her eyes. The wall, or rather the narrow passage through it, was indeed impressive.
“Stay close to me, and you can hold on to my backpack if you need to. Watch your step. The rocks are uneven,” she said quickly, leading the way forward.
Keeping an eye on Pontar, she listened to the cautious steps behind her. Triss moved quietly, placing each step with care. She was learning fast. The narrow corridor ended after a few meters, opening onto a small rock ledge. Below them, a stunning view of the valley spread out. Yennefer stepped aside for Triss but extended her left arm slightly, just in case Triss, captivated by the view, took one step too far. Pontar didn't waste any time admiring the scenery. He lifted his head, inspecting every crevice in the rock, then moved along the wall, disappearing once again into the dense forest undergrowth.
“Stay close to the wall,” Yennefer instructed as she followed Pontar.
The rocky ground underfoot soon softened into the damp forest floor. Here, the trees were no longer tightly packed, allowing more light through despite the overcast sky. Moving through this terrain was less strenuous and considerably easier.
The crackle of the radio made Yennefer start slightly. Philippa was checking in again, which meant another 30 minutes had flown by since their last contact. Time seemed to be racing. Yennefer quickly gave her report, mentioning that there were no changes and that Pontar was still following his pattern methodically.
“Could he be mistaken?” Triss asked as Yennefer finished her report to Philippa.
“Yes, he’s not a machine; he’s a living being,” Yennefer explained. “Just like us, he can have an off day. But his nose is still the best tool we have for finding people,” she continued, as they walked calmly through the forest, passing tall trees.
A few minutes later, Pontar stopped, sniffing intently. Although Yennefer was standing quite far away from him, she noticed his entire body tense, and his ears perked up in that telltale way. His tail went still. The whole freeze of movement lasted a fraction of a second, but she knew that the dog had found the trail and that it was close.
Before she could react, Pontar took off on a run toward the largest rock in the area and stopped at its base. Yennefer signaled Triss to follow and slowly moved toward the dog, keeping her caution even as a wave of excitement flooded through her. She watched from the distance as Pontar rose onto his hind legs, placing his front paws against the rock, and barked loudly.
“Woof, woof, woof!”
Then everything happened in a flash. The crack of gunfire ripped through the air. Acting on pure instinct, Yennefer grabbed Triss's arm in one swift motion, pulling her behind the nearest rock and shielding her with her body. Her mind immediately shifted into crisis mode. The missing person was at the top of the rock, not far from them, and he had a gun. A real gun. There was no mistaking that sound.
“Pontar, come!” she said quietly, more to herself, seeing the terrified dog already sprinting toward her.
He wasn’t trained for this kind of situation, and his instincts had taken over everything he’d learned. The fear in his eyes only underscored the gravity of the situation.
When he reached her, tail tucked, he pressed himself against her leg. Yennefer captured his head, trying to calm him down, and then, with a firm gesture, commanded him to lie down by the rock. He obeyed without hesitation, although he was visibly trembling. Yennefer felt pain in her heart. This shot could have killed him. However, she had to chase these thoughts away.
She moved, positioning herself further behind the rock, and knelt beside Triss. Silence enveloped them, broken only by Yennefer’s steady, controlled breaths. A shiver ran through her as adrenaline pulsed in her temples.
But she had to stay focused. She quickly assessed the situation. The small rock offered decent cover, but a single careless move could expose their position. She looked at Triss, seeing her pale, terrified face. Gently, she placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly to offer support.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, though she could see how badly Triss was trembling.
She reached for the radio, turning down the volume, and spoke in a low but clear tone:
“Omega, omega, this is Yennefer. I’ve located the subject. The boy is armed. Repeat, he has a gun.”
“Yennefer, are you both okay?” Philippa's voice held a note of urgency.
“Yes, I’m almost certain he didn’t see us. He’s at the top of the rock, likely on the western edge of Striga’s Teeth,” she said quickly, recalling the topography of the area. “Send the police here. Quickly.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes, the rock shields us.”
“All right, the police are on their way.”
Yennefer looked over at Triss—her wide, frightened eyes and trembling mouth. She wanted to do something, anything, to comfort her. She knew that what Triss was experiencing could stay with her for a long time, etched deep in her memory.
“Triss, breathe with me,” she said softly, infusing her voice with the steadiness they both desperately needed. “We’re safe here. This rock shields us. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Triss took a shallow breath, her trembling lower lip revealing the struggle she was fighting within herself. Yennefer gently rubbed her arm, but she knew she couldn’t both console her and focus on the crisis at hand. She had to think quickly, to figure out exactly where the boy was and whether he posed an immediate threat.
She wondered what she should do. Despite the protection the rock gave them, they had to be careful. Any movement could expose their hiding place or provoke another shot. On the other hand, staying put was also risky. The boy could try to descend.
She had to think of something.
She couldn't sit still.
“I need to check his position,” she murmured, releasing Triss’s arm. “Stay here with Pontar.”
“No…” Triss’s whisper was filled with fear as her hand instinctively gripped Yennefer’s sleeve.
“Listen to me.” Her voice was soft yet firm as she locked eyes with Triss. “If anything goes wrong, you run with Pontar. Straight ahead. Don’t look back.”
Triss nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Yennefer knew she wouldn’t forget the expression on her face.
She carefully edged toward the side of the rock and leaned forward just enough to spot the dark silhouette crouched in a crevice. The boy was there, huddled in the shadows cast by the jagged surface of the rock. His hiding place was near perfect—if not for Pontar’s keen nose, they never would have spotted him.
Yennefer slowly returned to Triss and sat beside her. Instinctively, Triss leaned into her, drawing her knees close to her chest.
She was very frightened, and Yennefer could feel her every trembling breath. She also felt the overwhelming responsibility, which now weighed more than ever before. Triss should never have found herself in such a situation.
It's all my fault.
They sat in silence, with Pontar pressing his head into Triss’s shoulder, offering his form of comfort.
Yennefer kept analyzing the situation, listening intently to every rustle, trying to steady both herself and the frightened woman beside her. The minutes stretched on endlessly.
“Triss,” she whispered, “everything will be all right.”
What a pathetic comfort.
Triss just nodded, but her demeanor didn’t change. Resigned, Yennefer leaned her head back against the rough rock and exhaled slowly through her nose.
When two police officers emerged from the trees opposite them, Yennefer felt a wave of relief wash over her. Dressed in black uniforms and vests, they moved quietly and carefully. In their hands they held weapons, ready for action. Yennefer looked around the forest, there were more of them, walking sideways towards the rock on which the boy was sitting. She focused on the officers directly in front of them. Raising a hand to signal her presence, she watched as they exchanged quick glances, gestured with their hands, and then carefully crouched down in front of her.
In the background, Yennefer heard more voices coming from near the rock where the boy was. It seemed that the entire area was already surrounded.
The two officers moved closer.
“Are you alright?” asked one of them, his voice calm and carrying a hint of reassurance, though he maintained a professional distance.
Yennefer took a deep breath, deciding there was no need to hide how she really felt.
“Yes… physically, at least, but we’re shaken up,” she admitted, her voice wavering slightly.
The officer nodded in understanding and glanced over at Triss, who appeared pale and tense but under control. Yennefer, however, could see what others couldn’t—a glimmer of fear still shadowed in her eyes. Triss was struggling to keep that fragile mask intact.
“Everything’s under control now, Ms. Merigold. You’re safe,” assured the second officer, his tone intended to comfort, though Yennefer knew it might not be enough. “You can leave safely now. There’s a rescue quad waiting on the trail to take you both back to the clearing,” he added, gesturing toward the path.
She thanked them and attached Pontar’s leash to his vest. She kept a close eye on Triss, who wordlessly began walking alongside her. Neither of them expressed any relief or anger. Nothing. They simply moved forward, as if the weight of it all was too much to put into words. Triss looked exhausted, her movements mechanical, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. In her posture, Yennefer sensed something unfamiliar, something that fueled her own aching guilt. She wanted to say something, anything, that might help Triss, but nothing felt right. Once again, she was at a loss.
When they reached the trail, Chireadan was waiting, his expression one of quiet understanding. He approached Triss immediately, offering her a helmet and helping her sit safely on the large quad. Yennefer, along with Pontar, jumped onto the trailer that was usually used to transport the injured. She took her seat, feeling fatigue slowly sweep over her. Her gaze rested on Triss' back, hunched over and still tense.
After all, nothing bad had happened.
And yet, she was afraid that something had irrevocably changed.
Pontar sat down between her legs, his soft fur bringing momentary relief. She leaned over and hugged him, almost unconsciously, finding in his presence a substitute for the peace she needed.
When they reached the clearing, Triss nearly jumped off the quad, sprinting toward the Land Rover and into Philippa’s waiting arms. Watching that scene, Yennefer felt something twist tightly inside her. Far too much emotion for a standard search mission. Philippa gently cupped Triss's face, gazing into her eyes, before kissing her softly. Yennefer watched as Triss’s body relaxed, melting into Philippa’s embrace, as if she were shielding her from every danger in the world. In her arms, Triss was safe. That realization struck Yennefer harder than she expected.
She couldn’t suppress the wave of emotions stirring within her as she watched Triss and Philippa together. Yennefer felt as if she couldn’t breathe. All she wanted now was to change out of her gear and get back home. She walked stiffly, every muscle tense. She had put Triss in harm’s way. It had been a monumental mistake. She knew that every rescue came with risks, and Triss shouldn’t have been part of this.
What the hell was I thinking?
She felt a surge of anger toward herself, almost wanting to scream or break something, realizing just how furious she was at her own carelessness.
Suddenly, a police officer approached, interrupting her dark thoughts.
“Ms. Vengerberg?”
Damn.
She turned to him, trying to steady herself.
“Yes?”
“Could we get your statement? If you'd prefer, you could come by the station tomorrow.”
She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Triss and Philippa talking closely together. Triss glanced in her direction, but Yennefer quickly shifted her gaze back to the officer.
“We can do it now,” she answered with a heavy sigh, and looked around quickly. Chireadan had caught her eye and signaled he’d wait and head back with her.
She followed the officer toward a large patrol vehicle, hoping to stay out of Triss’s line of sight.
She walked without paying attention to anyone anymore, trying to erase the events of the past hours from her thoughts. She knew that this would be much more difficult than it might seem.
Inside the patrol vehicle, she sank into the seat, feeling utterly drained. Pontar sat down next to her, putting his head on her knee. The officer took out a tablet and some paperwork, preparing for the standard questions.
“What about the boy?” she asked automatically.
“He surrendered.”
“The weapon?” she asked, her anxiety flaring again.
“An old hunting rifle, his grandfather’s. Seems the grandfather hadn’t even noticed it was missing.”
The officer looked at her with somber honesty.
“You’re lucky nothing happened. That rifle’s powerful enough to take down a moose or a boar...” He paused, noticing her gaze on the dog. Yennefer shuddered, thinking of what might have happened to Pontar. “The kid says he shot into the air to scare off the dog. He didn’t realize it was a search operation.”
Yennefer nodded, clasping her hands tightly on her knees. The officer paused briefly, then began the formal questioning.
“Just a few standard questions, routine. Nothing to worry about.”
It didn’t lessen her worry at all. She was worried, deeply. Would Triss be able to cope after today? Would Philippa be able to piece her back together?
And would Triss ever want to look at her again?
As soon as Yennefer closed the door of her house behind her, the composure she had maintained throughout the drive back began to crumble. She leaned against the wall, exhaling deeply as the weight of the day’s events started to press out from within. She felt her heartbeat quicken, and her hands began to tremble.
Pontar, sensing her tension, approached quietly and rested his warm muzzle on her leg, following her every move. Yennefer closed her eyes and placed a hand on his soft fur. Pontar had often been her greatest comfort after difficult missions, but this time, she couldn’t stop thinking about Triss. About her wide, terrified blue eyes and how she clung tightly to Yennefer’s hand as if it were her lifeline.
She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat tightening. Fear gnawed at her—that what had happened in the forest could leave a permanent mark on Triss in her mind. The joy and lightness she had always admired in Triss would be dampened by fear. She imagined her withdrawn, unsure, and sad. This vision broke her heart. She remembered how Triss had been curled up, terrified, placing all her trust in her… She spoke to her, tried to reassure her, and stayed by her side… But Triss was still terrified.
I couldn't do anything else, I didn't know...
Suddenly, she was struck by a memory of Philippa's facial expression, her concern and the gentle kiss with which she greeted Triss. Her head spun from the emotions she had suppressed all day.
Slowly, she moved across the room, anger building inside her, desperate for release. Without thinking, she grabbed the mug sitting on the table and hurled it against the wall, shattering the porcelain into fragments. The sound of breaking pottery gave her a brief sense of relief. Pontar watched her intently.
Finally, she sat on the floor next to the dog, burying her face into his warm neck. Pontar leaned into her, his tail giving a gentle wag, and Yennefer felt herself gradually regaining control. His steady presence reminded her that, despite the chaos, there was always something she could rely on. But even so, her thoughts kept circling back to Triss.
“What the hell have I done, Pontar?” she whispered, stroking the dog gently. The weight of responsibility, something she’d felt hundreds of times, had never been so excruciating. She felt she had failed Triss, exposing her to something she never should have endured.
Pontar nestled in closer, sensing how much she needed him now. Yennefer closed her eyes, letting his calm seep into her, if only for a moment. She breathed deeply, knowing she needed to pull herself together, take a shower, and go pick up Ciri.
She must have been strong.
Notes:
Technical Details:
1. The radio call “Omega, omega” means “to all units.” This phrase is used by rescue services, most often when the command needs to broadcast an important message to all units or when something occurs that may endanger the health or lives of others involved in the operation. Plus, it sounds great—I just had to include it.
Chapter 5
Notes:
I need to take my computer in for repairs, so I’m posting the new chapter now. I’m not sure how quickly I’ll get it back, and I don’t want you to have to wait too long.
Thank you for being here and reading this story—I love you all! <3
Chapter Text
The morning was oddly quiet and calm, as if everything was standing still, waiting. She sat, absentmindedly stirring her coffee, her eyes fixed on the green trees outside the window. Yennefer hadn’t slept well, not after everything that had happened the day before. She felt slightly better than yesterday, but her concern for Triss lingered relentlessly. She wondered how the journalist was coping with it all. Yennefer knew that feeling after tough missions—the outward calm that masked an inner turmoil. She feared Triss was going through exactly that.
Her worry for Triss was still mixed with guilt. Yennefer couldn’t shake the thought that she had exposed the journalist to danger. She knew Triss had willingly agreed to join the mission, but that didn’t change the fact that, as an experienced rescuer, she should have assessed the risks better. She knew she should give Triss space and time, but she also felt an overwhelming need to make sure the journalist was okay.
The coffee she drank was bitter, just the way she liked it. After a few sips, she set the mug down and reached for the eggs and milk. Soon, the scent of a frying omelet filled the kitchen. Pontar, catching the aroma, rose from his bed and sat by his bowl, patiently waiting for his turn. Yennefer stroked his ears and, with a smile, emptied a can of dog food into his dish. He began eating only after she gave the command.
A few minutes later, the omelet was ready and lying on Ciri's favorite green square plate. Yennefer returned to her seat at the counter, taking another sip of coffee, when she heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“Good morning, my pretty one,” she greeted, smiling warmly at the sight of her sleepy daughter.
“Good morning,” Ciri mumbled as she climbed onto the high chair next to her mom. She glanced at the omelet and the steaming cup of cocoa. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Eat quickly. We have to leave soon.”
Ciri nodded and focused on her breakfast. Yennefer instinctively began tidying up the kitchen, putting things back in their place. She wanted to drown out the thoughts that kept circling Triss and what had happened during the search. She worried about her, vividly remembering her frightened face and those striking blue eyes. She knew how deeply such missions could imprint themselves in memory, and feared how it might affect the usually cheerful and energetic journalist.
After breakfast, as Ciri dashed around the house, gathering her things, Yennefer glanced at her phone. She had to do it. There was still a moment before they needed to leave. It was just past seven—probably an acceptable time to send a message, right? She unlocked the screen and began typing. She wasn’t good at these kinds of conversations, especially from a distance, but she had no other choice.
She picked up her phone and typed out a message.
'Hi, Triss. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. If you need to talk, remember that I am here for you. '
Yennefer read the message twice, a tight knot forming in her stomach. It felt overly formal, but she couldn’t come up with anything better. Finally, with a slight sigh, she hit “send” and set the phone down.
“Ready?” she asked, glancing over at Ciri, who was crouching next to Pontar, giving him a few affectionate pats.
“Yep,” Ciri replied, standing up.
Yennefer grabbed her black jacket, slipped the phone into her pocket, and took the car keys. They left the house, locking the door behind them.
They chatted loosely all the way to school, although Ciri was a bit relived about today's math test. She complained that teachers should give the tests a rest now that summer is almost here. Yennefer laughed, recalling her own frustrations with school when she was her age.
Pulling up to the school, Ciri hopped out but leaned back in for a parting word.
“Don’t worry, Mom. It’ll all be fine.”
“Good luck, sweetheart,” Yennefer said with a smile.
Ciri dashed toward the entrance, where Cerys was already waiting. The two girls hugged and disappeared inside, their boundless energy a reassuring sight.
The thought of Ciri’s friendship with Cerys brought Yennefer’s mind back to Triss. She pulled out her phone and saw a reply waiting.
'Thanks for checking in! I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, but I’m okay. I'm not sure if I handled everything as well as I should have… But I’m glad you reached out.'
Yennefer read the message twice, noting the vulnerability between the lines. She wondered if Triss agonized over her words as much as she did. Without overthinking, she quickly replied.
'That’s perfectly normal after a day like yesterday. I’ve got some free time this morning if you’d like to meet. This afternoon, I’m with Ciri.'
She bit her lip, her eyes wandering aimlessly, as if the reply would appear in the air. With a quick breath, she hit send.
What would Triss think? Would she hesitate? Decline? Maybe even...
Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
'Now? Actually, that sounds nice. How about the café by the market square? It’s quiet and cozy.'
Yennefer felt her pulse quicken ever so slightly.
'Perfect. I’ll see you in half an hour.'
She drove off, turning up the music in her car. First, she had to make a quick stop to buy fresh bread from her favorite bakery. Then, she’d have time for Triss. No rush—she wanted to show her that this meeting was important, that Triss’s well-being truly mattered.
Half an hour later, Yennefer parked her car near the market square. The morning was calm, with the sun gently peeking through the clouds. The sweltering heat that had plagued them the previous week was now a distant memory.
As she stepped inside the café, she was greeted by the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee and warm pastries. The interior was cozy, filled with flowers—some placed on shelves, others hanging from the ceiling in macramé pots. Along the turquoise wall on the right stood wooden tables with light-colored seats, separated by tall wooden panels that provided a sense of privacy.
Her eyes scanned the booths, hoping Triss had chosen one tucked away rather than sitting in the middle of the room. A subtle wave of relief washed over her when she spotted Triss’s chestnut curls in the farthest booth. It was the perfect spot. Yennefer walked overconfidently, offering a small smile as she slid onto the soft bench opposite Triss.
“Hey, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” she said, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it casually beside her.
“No, I just got here,” Triss replied. “Where’s Ciri? I ordered some croissants for her.”
Yennefer raised an amused eyebrow.
“She’s at school, coming home later this afternoon. Did you read my message properly?”
Triss flushed slightly, lowering her gaze as she tugged at the sleeves of her cream-colored sweater, pulling them over her hands. The sweater looked incredibly soft. For a fleeting moment, Yennefer felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch it—for the texture, of course. Or maybe not just that? She quickly dismissed the thought.
“Oh, right. Sorry, I must’ve misunderstood,” Triss muttered under her breath.
“Don’t worry,” Yennefer said, picking up one of the croissants and taking a bite. “These won’t go to waste.” It was still warm, perfectly baked, and filled with a generous amount of rose marmalade. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, these were her favorite.
Yennefer had barely savored the first bite when a waitress appeared at their table. Triss ordered a tea with a name that Yennefer couldn’t hope to pronounce—especially not with her mouth full. She simply murmured, “I’ll have the same,” and discreetly wiped her mouth with her hand.
Triss giggled softly at the sight.
“Do you like them?” Triss asked.
“They're pretty good,” Yennefer muttered, reaching for another croissant.
For a moment, they sat in a comfortable, reassuring silence. The waitress brought their tea in two mismatched, hand-painted cups. Yennefer watched as Triss added sugar, stirring it slowly, carefully avoiding the clink of the spoon against the porcelain. There was something mesmerizing about the gesture, something that held her attention more than it should have. When Triss finally lifted her head, their eyes met, and Yennefer felt as if time had momentarily paused.
“Sorry,” they both said at the same time.
“You first,” Triss said with a small smile before Yennefer could respond.
Yennefer took a deep breath, resting her elbows on the table and placing her head in her hands, her gaze locked on Triss’s. She tried to ignore how much she liked the way the light caught in her eyes. Focus, she reminded herself.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” she began, carefully choosing her words. “I was responsible for you, and I believe it’s my fault. You ended up in a dangerous situation because of me. It could have seriously affected you—your well-being.”
Triss shook her head firmly.
“That’s not your fault, Yennefer. I never even thought of it that way,” Triss said, her voice filled with genuine surprise. Her words lifted a weight off Yennefer’s shoulders, easing the burden she’d been carrying since yesterday. She’d been so damn worried. “Besides, I wanted to go with you. I knew your missions could be dangerous.”
“As a rescuer—”
“As a rescuer, you did everything perfectly,” Triss interrupted, not letting her finish. “I’m the one who should apologize because… I panicked. I should’ve done something to help you. I should’ve done anything, but I just sat there, scared, hiding behind you. And afterward, I just left… I went back to the base with Philippa without even saying a word to you. It was so pathetic, Yennefer. I’m sorry.”
The memory of Philippa holding Triss flashed in Yennefer’s mind again, sending a strange pang through her chest. It wasn’t anger that Triss had sought comfort in the arms of someone close. It was some deeper feeling. Disappointment that she herself couldn’t be the one to offer Triss that solace. Or… maybe it was just jealousy?
“Triss, you have nothing to apologize for,” Yennefer said, her voice carefully measured to mask any bitterness. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was trying to reassure Triss or herself. “It was an exceptionally stressful situation, and it’s natural to seek support from someone close to you. I hope Philippa helped you through it.”
Triss remained silent for a moment, her gaze dropping to her sleeve as she fidgeted with the fabric. The quiet stretched on, heightening Yennefer’s unease. She knew Philippa well enough to understand that providing emotional comfort wasn’t her strong suit, but after what she had witnessed at the clearing, she hoped Philippa had taken care of Triss. The younger woman’s soft sigh pulled Yennefer out of her thoughts.
“It wasn’t too bad,” Triss finally said. “She did what she could…She was still on duty. I sat on the couch in her office, and she gave me a cup of hot tea. For a moment, I even felt like someone genuinely cared. That’s more than I usually get. Then she got back to her reports and asked if I needed a ride home, but I said I’d manage. So I went back home, and…”
“Wait,” Yennefer interrupted, her voice sharp as a blade. “She let you go home alone?” Her tone grew louder, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables. Realizing this, she lowered her voice and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Is she out of her mind? You were in shock!”
Triss simply shrugged, the nonchalance of the gesture igniting Yennefer’s frustration further.
“You know her,” Triss said quietly. “Are you really surprised?”
“Yes!” Yennefer snapped. “Philippa’s not exactly the empathetic type, but that was irresponsible. And Philippa doesn’t do irresponsible.”
“I’m an adult, Yen. I had to show her I could handle it.”
“Triss, it’s not about whether you’re an adult or if you can handle it,” Yennefer replied, her tone calm despite the tension tightening her jaw. “You shouldn’t have had to face it alone.”
“Maybe,” Triss said with a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Yennefer studied her for a moment. She noticed how her hands were still hidden in the sleeves of her sweater, how her gaze was fixed on her cup, and how her shoulders slumped slightly forward. She imagined Triss sitting in Philippa’s office in the same way. It was a troubling image. Philippa was far too perceptive to believe Triss’s assurances that she was fine. That only fueled Yennefer’s anger further.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Yennefer asked suddenly.
“I didn’t want to bother you. Besides…” Triss hesitated, biting her lip. “I still felt like I’d let you down, that I’d disappointed you. I was ashamed to ask for your help.”
“Let me down? Where did you even get that idea?”
She had been through a whirlwind of emotions the day before, but disappointment? That wasn’t one of them. If anything, she had been disappointed in herself, not Triss.
“With Phil, I constantly try to be like her… confident, strong. But you saw me in the woods, completely falling apart. I thought you’d be disappointed in me. I’m not a brave rescuer, and…”
“I don’t expect you to pretend to be someone you’re not,” Yennefer interrupted gently. “I want you to be yourself, Triss.”
“But around you all, I just feel… so small, so insignificant. Little Merigold.” Triss said bitterly, lowering her gaze and slowly turning the cup in her hands.
Yennefer remained silent for a moment, then picked up her cup, as if buying herself time to organize her thoughts. The fact that Triss felt weak and insignificant in her presence stung deeply. It hurt because Yennefer genuinely enjoyed being around the spirited journalist. She hadn’t considered that Triss might see things so differently. She laughed, joked, and seemed natural, which Yennefer liked. But… insignificant? How could she think that about herself? And how could Yennefer convince her otherwise?
“I’ve never thought of you as… insignificant,” Yennefer said, grimacing as she uttered the word. “I was proud of you. Hell, I am proud of you, Triss. Yesterday, you handled everything brilliantly. Plenty of volunteers could learn from you about how to act during one of their first missions.” She paused briefly before adding, “In the woods, you were scared—that’s normal. Fear is a natural response to danger.”
Yennefer watched Triss carefully. She seemed a little more calm, but it still wasn't that. Then she realized exactly what she needed to do to make Triss believe her.
“I was scared too, Triss…” The short confession cost Yennefer more than she wanted to admit, and it immediately made Triss lock eyes with her. Yennefer felt those blue eyes piercing through her. “And Pontar… Did you notice how my brave dog ran to us with his tail tucked between his legs? He didn’t leave my side for the rest of the day, and he even slept in my bed that night.”
“I thought you… that you were completely unfazed.” Triss looked genuinely surprised, her eyes widening slightly.
Yennefer regarded her carefully.
“No one is, Triss. Even if it appears that way. That’s why I’m here.” Her voice softened, growing warmer. “I know it’s not easy.”
“You’re saying all this just to make me feel better.”
“Do I look like someone who does that?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow, her sarcasm sharp, but her expression soon softened. “This is a really tough subject, Triss, which is why rescuers usually stick together. It’s hard for people who aren’t part of these missions to fully understand. But I do. I know what you’re going through, truly. And if you’re worried about how you handled things out there, I’m telling you honestly—you did fine.”
“Thank you,” Triss replied, a small, genuine smile forming on her lips. “What you are saying is… is important to me, you know? I think I got too worked up about it yesterday and…”
“So did I,” Yennefer said without thinking, only realizing it when Triss gave her a surprised look. She felt a slight heat rise to her cheeks. “I got caught up thinking it was all my fault and that you’d probably never want to see me again,” she explained, suddenly feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
“You’re being dramatic, Yennefer.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Triss smiled, reaching for another croissant.
“But it suits me! I didn’t expect it from you,” she admitted, then added in a softer tone, “Don’t worry about me; I’m feeling much better now.”
“And you don’t need to worry that I’m disappointed. I’m genuinely proud of you and glad you’re holding up. Even though Philippa left you on your own, and—”
“Let’s not talk about her, please,” Triss groaned, though her voice was regaining its usual cheerful lilt.
“So, we’re good?” Yennefer asked, needing confirmation. Her eyes carefully studied Triss’s face, searching for any lingering signs of unease.
“Definitely. This talk… hmm, it’s precisely what I needed. I guess I just had to hear that I’m not as… bad as I thought.” She let out a nervous laugh.
“Don’t think of yourself that way, Triss.” Yennefer leaned forward, grabbing another croissant. “Someone hopeless wouldn’t have picked such a perfect snack. I have to admit, these croissants are delicious.”
“You don’t need to admit it. I can see it. You’ve eaten almost all of them.”
Yennefer didn’t comment, instead focusing on dramatically devouring her croissant, which only amused Triss more. She enjoyed making her laugh, even if it was at her expense. It was a far better option than seeing her frightened and sad.
She reached for her tea when she felt her phone vibrate. She wrestled with her jacket for a moment, trying to find and pull it out of the pocket. When she finally managed, Philippa’s name was displayed on the screen. With a sigh, she mouthed an apology to Triss, tucked one leg under her on the seat, and answered.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, skipping any greeting.
“You need a certificate stating Pontar is fit for duty, or he won’t be allowed to join the next mission.”
Yennefer frowned.
“There’s nothing wrong with Pontar.”
“You need it on paper.”
“So until I get that sorted, we’re grounded?”
“Pontar is.”
“Great, fine. I’ll see if I can handle it today.”
“Thanks. Bye.”
She hung up and set the phone down on the table, rubbing her face with both hands. These were her last two days off before night shifts.
“Is everything okay? Is something wrong with Pontar?” Triss asked, her voice tinged with concern.
“No, I just need to get some documents proving he’s fit for duty after the last mission,” Yennefer sighed. “Didn’t even think they’d require that. I’ll have to drive to the center in Aeldorn. Ciri’s going to love this,” she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“She won’t be excited to go with you?”
Yennefer rested her head on her hand, glancing at Triss.
“She’ll be upset that it’s all about my job again,” she said. “It’s been a touchy subject lately, though… at her age, everything I say is a touchy subject.”
“How old is Ciri now? Seven, eight?” Triss asked, her tone was curious.
She wasn’t just asking to keep the conversation going—she was genuinely interested. Whenever she did this, Yennefer was reminded that Triss was, after all, a journalist.
“Wow, those were the days…” Yennefer said, her voice tinged with a wistful tone. “And such beautiful days. I didn’t appreciate them at the time, like always.”
“So how old?” Triss pressed. “You still drive her around in a car seat, so I thought…”
“The car seat is a sore subject,” Yennefer muttered under her breath, which only encouraged Triss to dig deeper.
“Why? Rescuers and your obsession with safety?” Triss teased, raising an eyebrow.
“Partly… Her height is exactly at the limit when she can ride without a car seat,” Yennefer sighed theatrically. “But I said she has to cross it…”
“So, how old is she?”
“She turned eleven in April.”
“And you’re seriously still making her use a car seat?” Triss’s tone remained playful.
“Oh, hush, Merigold.” Yennefer growled, though the corner of her lips lifted in a faint smile. “Should I show you some crash-test videos?”
“I prefer to watch TV shows in my free time,” Triss said, laughing sincerely. “That is so you, and I love it!” Triss burst into laughter, and Yennefer felt her breath catch at the sight of her smiling friend and the unexpected confession.
She wanted to say that she really liked her too, even though Triss said love, but she said this in jest, right? It's just a saying. Yennefer, however, took it much more seriously than she intended. She knew it was true, and now, hearing Triss say it out loud, she really felt it. She just smiled and reached for her cup, not knowing what to do with herself. Her heart was beating a little faster.
Thankfully, Triss continued talking, her vibrant energy filling the space around them once again. Her behavior had returned to normal—typical Triss. Yennefer began to believe that she really was okay and that the previous day’s events hadn’t left a significant mark. Most likely, Triss had just been embarrassed and overthinking what she could have done or what might have happened. Yennefer had been through that herself when she was a rookie.
The next few minutes passed with Triss chatting away, while Yennefer occasionally chimed in with a snarky remark. Triss didn’t seem bothered by it at all. It was as if she were immune to sarcasm. Fascinating. The atmosphere between them was once again calm; all the tension from the previous day had dissipated—just like the rest of the croissants. Yennefer was sure Triss had only eaten two. What happened to the rest?
When they finally left the café, Yennefer glanced toward the street, where Triss’s small red car was parked.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” she announced firmly.
“You don’t have to…” Triss began, but Yennefer was already heading forward, tossing over her shoulder:
“I’m doing it anyway.”
Triss smiled to herself and followed. When they reached the car, Yennefer stopped, watching as Triss rummaged through her bag for her keys. The silence that fell between them was once again oddly pleasant.
Triss looked at her with a warm smile.
“Thanks, Yennefer. For everything.”
“May I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Triss replied, curiosity shining in her eyes.
“If you ever feel those memories creeping back, if it starts to feel overwhelming, reach out to me, okay? No matter if it’s the middle of the night or any other time—call. I won’t answer if I’m out on a mission, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. You can promise me that?” Yennefer said it firmly, her voice full of concern.
“Yes, thank you,” Triss whispered, and Yennefer saw relief and gratitude reflected in her eyes.
Yennefer nodded but didn’t say anything more. Something in Triss’s gaze held her back—a spark in her eyes, an expectant look.
“May I?” Triss asked softly, tilting her head slightly toward her.
“What do you…?” Yennefer began, but Triss didn’t wait. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on Yennefer’s shoulder. Yennefer felt her body instinctively tense as if preparing to shield itself, but a moment later, an unexpected calm washed over her. Hesitantly, she returned the embrace, patting Triss gently on the back. Triss felt so delicate, and her sweater was indeed as soft and warm as it looked.
Yennefer closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself to savor the moment. She sensed that this relationship might demand more from her than she anticipated. At the same time, she felt it was a risk worth taking. She appreciated how Triss’s warmth and joy balanced her own colder demeanor.
“All right, Merigold, that’s enough,” she said quietly, though her tone lacked any real sternness.
Triss pulled back with a smile, her gaze never leaving Yennefer.
“See you soon?” Triss asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
“Of course,” Yennefer nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then, with a faint smirk, she added, “Drive safely.”
She watched as Triss climbed into her car and started the engine. Only after the car smoothly pulled away and disappeared around the corner did Yennefer exhale softly. The feelings stirred by the hug were difficult to articulate. It was more than mere concern or a sense of duty. Yet, the thought of having a friend like Triss brought an involuntary smile to her lips.
What was the point of fighting it?
Later that day, Yennefer parked her black Volvo right in front of the main gate of the MSRC Training Center. She glanced at her watch—she still had ten minutes to spare. The facility was impressive: sprawling, modern buildings stood neatly aligned, with a vast open space stretching out behind them. On the meticulously trimmed lawn were all the essentials for training: towering climbing walls, obstacle courses for dogs, and high rescue towers. The entire area was surrounded by a dense forest, providing privacy and making the site feel like a military base, ideal for training and drills.
“Are you sure you want to stay in the car, Ciri? I’m not sure how long this will take,” Yennefer asked gently, though inwardly she was simmering with frustration. As she had anticipated, Ciri hadn’t been thrilled about this trip and had made her displeasure obvious before they left home.
“As always,” Ciri muttered. “I’ll stay in the car. I’m not going in there.”
“Suit yourself. I’m leaving the keys,” Yennefer sighed, placing them in the glove compartment. “Text me if you step out of the car.”
“I won’t,” Ciri replied firmly.
“I love you.”
“Yeah, sure…”
Yennefer clenched her teeth. These were the moments she hated the most. Ciri was deep into her teenage rebellion, and while Yennefer tried to attribute her behavior to growing pains, she knew some blame was hers. She wasn’t always the mother Ciri needed. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed Pontar’s leash and led him out of the car, heading toward the center and quickly climbing a few wide steps.
“Yennefer! Pontar! Great to see you!” a man’s voice called out as soon as she stepped through the doors.
She quickly spotted a middle-aged man with wild, curly hair.
“Borch, thank you for staying late,” she said, extending her hand. “I truly appreciate it.”
The man shook her hand before crouching down in front of Pontar. The dog remained still, but his tail gave a slight wag, signaling his joy.
“No problem! Do you think something’s wrong with him?” Borch asked, standing up.
“No, he seems perfectly normal, but it’s better to be certain,” Yennefer admitted. When Philippa mentioned it, she hadn’t given it much thought, too furious about how the woman had treated Triss. Later, when she called the center, practically begging for a same-day check-up before her Sunday shift, guilt set in. She should have thought of it herself.
“May I greet him?” Borch asked again, glancing at Yennefer.
She smiled and gave a small nod, allowing the dog to approach. Pontar trotted over, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Borch immediately crouched down again, extending his hand to the dog. Pontar sniffed it briefly before pressing his head against Borch’s palm, seeking affection.
Borch chuckled and began scratching behind Pontar’s ears and along his neck. The dog responded with visible delight, his tail swishing back and forth energetically as he leaned into the touch, clearly enjoying the attention.
“He’s as good as ever,” Borch remarked with a grin, continuing to pet the contented dog.
After a moment, he rose, and the dog's gaze jumped between him and Yennefer.
“Okay, follow me. We’ll run through the test from his certification, and then I’ll have a behaviorist take a look. From what I see, everything seems fine. And if you think so too, it probably is. You know him best,” he said with a reassuring smile.
Yennefer nodded and moved after him with the Pontar by her leg. If it weren’t for Borch, she wouldn’t be where she is today.
An hour later, Yennefer walked out of the center without any physical documents—they handled everything electronically now. Getting a paper copy would’ve taken another half hour, and she would rather not push Ciri’s already strained patience. The check-up had been swift yet thorough. They repeated two certification courses to test Pontar’s obedience and reactions. The behaviorist, who had observed them throughout, asked Yennefer to perform a few additional commands in unusual conditions. Flashing lights and odd noises simulated real rescue scenarios—Pontar responded flawlessly. Everything checked out. Even the on-site vet gave him a clean bill of health. He was fit and ready for duty, and that was what mattered most.
She got into the car and immediately felt the heavy atmosphere. Ciri sat with a stony expression, her eyes glued to her phone, remaining silent for the entire ride. Yennefer pulled out of the training center and drove home cautiously. She refrained from initiating any conversation, knowing that sometimes the best approach was to give the other person time and space. Ciri could be difficult, but Yennefer understood that her rebellion stemmed from something deeper. She hoped that spending time together during the summer would help rebuild what had started to fracture over the past few months. She wanted that and promised herself she would do everything in her power to make it happen.
When they arrived home less than an hour later, Yennefer parked in the garage, turned off the engine, and glanced at her daughter.
“Think about what you’d like to do tomorrow?” she asked gently.
“We’ll see,” Ciri muttered, stepping out of the car and slamming the door harder than necessary.
Yennefer remained in the car for a moment. She rested her hands on the steering wheel and leaned her forehead against them. In the silence of the garage, her thoughts echoed loudly. As a rescuer, she always knew what to do. Every situation had its protocol, every problem a solution. But with Ciri? There were no clear guidelines, no established procedures. Being a parent turned out to be an incredibly challenging role, one without a manual.
Yennefer could see the weight Ciri carried due to her work. The girl understood the gravity of the situation and accepted that Yennefer sometimes came home late or had to leave on a call, even on her days off. She understood it, but as she grew older, she became more open about her dissatisfaction. Just like today. Yesterday, Yennefer had to head out for a search and rescue mission, and today, work-related duties had once again intruded on the peaceful rhythm of their free day. It was too much for an eleven-year-old.
Ironic, she thought, how easily she could calm strangers in crisis while her own daughter seemed to slip through her fingers. Usually, a few honest words and a professional demeanor were enough to bring things back to normal.
For a moment, Yennefer considered whether she should seek help from a psychologist—someone who could help her better understand Ciri and work on their relationship. Fortunately, days filled with tension and resentment weren’t frequent, but Yennefer worried that Ciri was bottling up her emotions. She needed to give this serious thought. She had to try to fix it.
She had the entire summer ahead of her. She resolved to make it a time to show Ciri that she was the mother her daughter deserved. Not perfect, but present. Someone who listens, supports, and is ready to dedicate her time solely to her. It was difficult for her to admit, even to herself, that she didn’t always know what to do. Her professionalism sometimes failed her, especially when it came to the people she cared about most.
She took a deep, steadying breath, straightened up, and stepped out of the car.
When she entered the house, she saw Ciri quickly making peanut butter sandwiches before disappearing upstairs without a word. Yennefer didn’t see her again for the rest of the day, but she could hear the water running in the bathroom and the faint sounds of music coming from behind her bedroom door. Meanwhile, Yennefer busied herself preparing dinner, refilling Pontar’s food bowl, and cleaning the kitchen along with the adjoining living room. When she finally decided to take a shower, her phone buzzed, signaling a new message.
Triss.
Just the thought of her sent a familiar warmth coursing through Yennefer’s body. How was it possible that a single message could affect her like this? She sank into the comfortable armchair, tucking her legs beneath her, and opened the text, hoping everything was fine.
'I’ve sent you the finished article via email. I made some edits today and added a few observations from yesterday’s mission. I hope I didn’t write anything that might offend you or your work. If you have time, take a look and let me know what you think. I need to submit it by Monday at 10am, so there’s still time for tweaks. Thanks, and have a good night! ;)'
The article captivated her from the very first sentence. Triss wrote with energy and passion, avoiding forced phrases or awkward metaphors. She portrayed the work of rescuers not as a dry, jargon-filled report but as a fascinating, challenging adventure. Her depiction of Yennefer’s bond with Pontar was particularly moving, emphasizing the unique connection between a rescuer and their dog. Yennefer felt her cheeks flush as she read the admiring words about herself. Triss had painted her almost like a hero, highlighting her professionalism, bravery, and dedication.
A peculiar feeling spread through her as she read about herself in this light—pride mixed with a tinge of embarrassment. But there was no denying the article was excellent. Triss had managed to capture the essence of their work, conveying the spirit of mountain rescue.
Yennefer replied, trying to keep her message casual despite feeling slightly emotional:
'Well, Merigold, not bad at all. Maybe you’ll even win that contest, as long as the judges don’t think you went a bit overboard with my description. Seriously, though, great job. You really nailed what this is all about. And Pontar will be very proud you’ve made him the star of mountain rescue. Let’s hope the fame doesn’t go to his head.'
She hit send and stared at the screen for a moment, a soft smile playing on her lips. She hadn’t expected Triss’s words to affect her so deeply. A wave of gratitude washed over her, thankful that someone had taken the time to truly understand and appreciate what they did.
Triss’s enthusiastic reply came quickly. Her chaotic, joy-filled messages only reassured Yennefer that everything was fine between them. Triss admitted that writing the article had been more challenging than she’d expected, and that she feared it might overwhelm her. Yennefer smiled to herself—she’d have to remember to boost Triss’s confidence, just as she often did with Ciri.
She put her phone away and headed to the bathroom. The past two days have been emotionally exhausting. Today could’ve been perfect if not for the tension with Ciri, and yesterday… well, a teenager with a gun made sure it wasn’t. She stripped off her clothes and stepped under the shower, turning on the hot water. She needed to wash away all the trivialities and organize her thoughts about what truly mattered: Ciri, Triss, and work. She smiled lightly as she realized she thought of them in that order.
After reading Triss’s article, her mind inevitably drifted back to the journalist. Thinking about her while in the shower, however, left Yennefer slightly flustered. It was absurd. But she was glad Triss genuinely saw and appreciated her work. On the other hand, she wondered how well Triss could read her as a person. Now, Yennefer was convinced that Triss saw much more than she intended to show. That thought was both unsettling and oddly comforting—a peculiar combination. She knew Triss was an astute observer, and hiding emotions around her could prove particularly ineffective.
Yennefer fell asleep almost immediately after her head hit the soft pillow. Her body, worn out from the emotional toll of the day, sank into a deep slumber. Consciousness slipped away, and sleep brought much-needed respite. Yet, time did not slow down. The night passed in a blink, and morning arrived surprisingly quickly, waking her gently with the warm rays of sunlight.
It was already Saturday.
After a quick walk with Pontar, Yennefer sat in the kitchen, reading a book while waiting for her daughter to wake up. It was her last peaceful day before a week of night shifts. The morning sunlight streamed through the balcony doors, bathing the room in a warm glow. Outside, the weather was pleasantly mild, with the sun occasionally hiding behind scattered clouds.
The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced toward them, seeing Ciri descend slowly, stomping on each step as usual. Pontar lay on the fluffy white rug, perfectly camouflaged except for his black nose, which twitched slightly when he heard Ciri. He didn’t wake, remaining deeply asleep and undisturbed by the noise. Everything felt right.
“Morning,” Ciri said, settling on a high stool across from Yennefer at the counter. All traces of yesterday’s anger were gone.
Yennefer couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her daughter’s sleepy face. The morning tension eased slightly.
“Good morning, swallow. I was waiting for you to have breakfast together,” she said gently. “What would you like?”
Ciri propped her face on her hands, lost in thought as she stared out the window, much like Yennefer had done earlier.
“Maybe pancakes?” she finally suggested, a slight sparkle in her eyes.
“Of course,” Yennefer replied, getting up and reaching for the ingredients in the cupboard.
“What do you feel like doing today?” she asked while pulling out flour and eggs. “We could play board games, or maybe…”
“Mom, please…” Ciri sighed, rolling her eyes. “Can we… act like normal people?”
“Normal people?” Yennefer raised an amused eyebrow at her daughter’s sudden shift in tone. “Alright, my ‘normal’ daughter, what do you have in mind?”
“Maybe we could go to a café?” Ciri suggested it quickly, as if she’d been planning it for a while. “We could have coffee and chat, like adults.”
“Coffee? Ciri, you’re eleven…”
“As if I don’t know how old I am, Mom, but I bet the café has those coffees for… teenagers,” Ciri said, emphasizing the word with exaggerated seriousness. “Or at least some other good drinks.”
“We could have breakfast here and then head out,” Yennefer replied, pulling a carton of milk from the fridge.
“Really?” Ciri asked, surprised, as if she couldn’t believe her mom had agreed to her plan so quickly.
“Yes. Or maybe…” Yennefer turned with a gentle smile, holding the milk in her hand. “How about we have breakfast out? What do you think?”
“Oh, yes!” Ciri exclaimed, bouncing with excitement. She jumped off the chair, ran over to Yennefer, and hugged her tightly.
Yennefer kissed the top of her daughter’s head, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. She held Ciri in her arms, savoring the moment. It was a warm, simple love that filled her. Yesterday’s tension no longer mattered.
“Go get changed,” she encouraged, gently releasing her. She began tidying up the kitchen, putting away the items she had already taken out.
A few minutes later, Yennefer donned her leather jacket, slung her bag over her shoulder, and glanced toward the living room. Ciri was finishing her goodbyes to Pontar, stroking the dog’s head. The girl turned around, ready to leave, her clothes now covered in white fur. The sight brought a warm smile to Yennefer’s face.
Choosing a Swiss Shepherd as a working dog had been a calculated decision—of that, she had no doubt. What she hadn’t anticipated was just how visible white fur would be on dark clothes. Within two days of Pontar moving in, she’d resigned herself to the fact that battling fur was a lost cause. Life with Pontar came with minor inconveniences, but they were nothing compared to his loyalty and dedication.
Ciri brushed past her at the door, bouncing on her toes and humming under her breath. Yennefer was glad for this outing together. Perhaps she still treated Ciri too much like a child—after all, the girl was growing more mature every day. Yennefer knew she needed to adjust, to work on herself again. She felt grateful that Ciri hadn’t grown resentful, that her daughter still wanted things to go well between them. Ciri hadn’t shut herself off or remained perpetually angry; it was as if she forgave Yennefer’s parental missteps.
A glimmer of hope stirred in Yennefer’s heart. Today, everything felt right, and she wanted it to stay that way.
Sunday, May 26, 7:45 pm
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
On Sunday evening, Yennefer rushed into the station, starting her week of night shifts. She quickly changed into her uniform, tied her hair into a braid, and headed to the briefing room. As usual, she perched on the windowsill, which gave her a perfect view of the entire room. She tucked one leg beneath her while lightly swinging the other, waiting for the rest of her team to arrive. In reality, during daily briefings, the rescuers didn’t sit neatly on the chairs arranged in rows at the center of the room. Instead, they stood along the walls or by the windows, much like kids at a school assembly who had run out of seats.
Philippa entered the room, and unusually, she wasn’t alone. Two young men, fully dressed in MCRS uniforms, followed her. Even from a distance, Yennefer could tell they looked very young.
Philippa quickly delivered the key information about the shift before turning to introduce the newcomers.
“I’d like you to meet two new rescue volunteers who’ll be joining us for the summer,” she said, gesturing toward the young men. “This is Dorien and Rience,” she added, pointing to each of them in turn. “Show them around the station, get them familiar with everything. You know the drill.”
Yennefer discreetly observed the volunteers. Dorien stood out immediately. He was tall, with delicate facial features, bright, tightly curled hair, and warm hazel eyes. He had the air of someone who easily charmed everyone around him. She was almost certain he couldn’t escape the attention of admirers. In his red rescue uniform, he looked as if he’d stepped straight off a recruitment poster for MCRS.
Rience, on the other hand, was his complete opposite. Of average height, with slicked-back black hair and cold, slightly watery dark eyes, he had a more muscular, compact build. He gave off the impression of someone who preferred swift, decisive action over excessive talking.
Their eyes met briefly as Rience lifted his head and looked directly at her. A cold shiver ran down Yennefer’s spine. There was something in his gaze—a glint that was difficult to interpret. For a fleeting moment, she felt like a subject under scrutiny, as if Rience was assessing her with the same intensity she had used to evaluate him.
She brushed off the feeling and refocused on Philippa, who was wrapping up her overview of the upcoming week’s schedule. Whatever had unsettled her could wait.
After the briefing ended, Yennefer introduced herself to the recruits before the entire group headed down to the garage. Roche, with his usual enthusiasm, immediately started showcasing the equipment to the young men.
Yennefer decided to leave the guys with their “favorite toys.” She slipped away quietly into the storage room, a small area connected to the garage. She left the door slightly ajar to stay aware of what was happening in the garage, then turned her attention to the routine inventory check. On a sturdy shelf lay stretchers, orthopedic boards, and cases filled with splints. Everything was in its place, complete, and ready for use at a moment’s notice. Opposite the door hung bags of ropes, harnesses, carabiners, belay devices—everything needed for climbing and high-angle rescues. Meticulously, she checked each item, listening for snippets of conversation from the garage. She could only make out a few isolated words.
What’s with this man?
Rience’s stare continued to gnaw at her. It had felt slimy and intrusive, even though it lasted only a second. She had never experienced anything like it before. If she believed in magic, she might have thought he’d cast a spell on her. She vividly recalled his oddly teary, dark eyes and the way Philippa had said his name. Rience… What kind of name was that?
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice when Syanna entered the storage room. The young woman, slightly amused, nudged her shoulder, snapping Yennefer out of her reverie.
“I saw how he was looking at you,” Syanna said softly, reaching for a bundle of carabiners. The metal clinked as it hit against itself.
“What are you talking about?” Yennefer asked, surprised.
“That dark-haired one couldn’t take his eyes off you during the briefing, and just now in the garage, when you weren’t looking.” Syanna’s tone was clearly amused. “So young, Yenna, maybe…”
Yennefer shot her a look so sharp that Syanna immediately fell silent, her cheeks coloring as she realized she might have gone too far. She fidgeted with the carabiners in her hands, the gentle clinking filling the awkward silence, her expression revealing that she was deep in thought.
“Yen, may I ask you for a favor?” she ventured hesitantly after a moment, clearly eager to change the subject.
“Depends,” Yennefer replied firmly, crossing her arms. But seeing the apprehensive look on Syanna’s face, her brow softened. “Is something wrong?”
“Will you help me on the climbing wall?” Syanna glanced toward the garage. “We can leave those alpha males with the newbies and get some practice in ourselves, what do you say?”
“Excellent idea,” she replied immediately, as she had a huge desire to climb. All she needed for this was good company and a calm mind. Now all the conditions were met.
Both women left the storage room and slipped unnoticed past the quads and along the wall, disappearing through another door. Beyond it lay a recently constructed hall, its sleek, modern design standing in stark contrast to the rest of the building. Inside, the space resembled a massive stairwell, though instead of stairs, vibrant climbing walls of varying difficulty stretched out at every angle. A dividing wall ran through the middle, splitting the hall into two narrower sections. Despite its height, the room felt claustrophobic, unlike the typical expansive climbing gyms. Even the ceiling was designed for climbing, with colorful ropes of different lengths dangling from it. Between the walls were metal bridges, some featuring narrow openings through which rescuers had to squeeze, sometimes carrying stretchers. Every detail was meant to simulate the challenging conditions they faced in the field.
The floor was soft, providing excellent cushioning, but additional mats lined the walls for extra safety. For rescuers, there was no such thing as too much precaution.
Near the entrance stood a massive rack filled with gear similar to what was stored in the main supply room. It held all the equipment they used during training and real missions. The rack was so tall that reaching the top shelves required climbing. After drills, they often felt too drained to tidy up, much like after real missions when the adrenaline wore off. Yet, they knew it had to be done. It was a lesson in discipline—seeing every task through to the end without cutting corners.
Yennefer strode confidently into the hall, her posture as natural as if she were in her own living room. She glanced around, her head held high. It had been a great idea to come here—she was itching for a climb. Syanna stopped beside her, hesitating before pointing to a particularly challenging section with a massive overhang. The steep angle made it especially grueling, but for rescuers, the climb itself wasn’t the hardest part.
“How would you evacuate someone from there?” Syanna asked thoughtfully.
“Safely,” Yennefer replied with a wry smile.
“Will you help me?” Syanna’s eyes gleamed with determination. “Every time I ask the guys, they do everything for me. I hate it.”
Yennefer chuckled softly. Women on the team were always treated that way until they proved they could handle the heavy packs and unwieldy stretchers without help. Syanna needed to demonstrate her capability, but to do so, she required someone patient enough to let her practice thoroughly.
“Alright, grab the gear. I’ll be the victim,” Yennefer said decisively.
“What? Let’s just use the dummy,” Syanna protested.
“No, that won’t help you get over your fear. Imagine you’re on a mission, Syanna. Here’s the scenario: a climber fell from the wall, dangling a meter below the ceiling, unconscious. Any questions?”
“You want me to get you down on a stretcher?”
“You could always carry me in your arms.”
“I can’t do it alone. This isn’t a one-person job.”
“So, are you just going to stand there and complain? I’ll help you, but you need to get moving. Strap on your pack and think. You can climb to me multiple times, playing both the lead and support rescuer. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy hanging ten meters off the ground,” Yennefer said with a hint of irony. “Perfect way to spend the evening.”
“Like a bat,” Syanna laughed, her tension easing. “Thanks, Yen.”
“No problem. By the way, I’ve already decided on my injuries,” Yennefer added, pulling out her phone to jot down a note. “It’s a short list, but you’ll need to assess them carefully. We’ll review your performance afterward.”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a bit too into this?” Syanna teased.
“Would you prefer I use fake blood?” Yennefer arched a brow, and Syanna shook her head, laughing.
“Alright, I’m ready.”
“Great. I’ll head up. See you soon,” Yennefer said, nodding before making her way to the wall.
She approached the climbing wall and took a deep breath. She really ought to come here more often. After double-checking her gear, she paused briefly to plot her route, then began her ascent. Her movements were fluid and confident.
“You didn’t adjust this collar properly. It’s digging into my neck,” Yennefer grumbled, lying safely on the stretcher, now placed on the floor.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have squirmed,” Syanna shot back without missing a beat, unhooking her line. “I’ve never seen an unconscious person thrash around like a fish caught in a net.”
“I’m ticklish.”
“Hard not to notice.” Syanna chuckled softly, unclipping the buckles and helping Yennefer sit up. “You should’ve included that in the action scenario.”
Yennefer stretched slowly, dramatically rubbing her neck. Syanna watched her expectantly, clearly awaiting a verdict. Yennefer deliberately ignored her, fixing her uniform and letting her hair down, running her fingers through it as she prolonged the silence.
“You did well,” she finally said. “We can run it again with the dummy if you’d like.”
“Really?” Syanna’s face lit up with excitement.
“Mhm. But I need a moment first; that collar…” Yennefer sighed, theatrically massaging her neck. “That was your weakest point.”
“If you had a spinal injury, you wouldn’t be swinging your head around,” Syanna retorted, sitting close by on the floor, where space was tight. Her expression suddenly grew serious. “Yenna, are you still mad at me for that bus incident?”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Slowly, she leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs out in front of her. The bus accident. That was two months ago. Was it still weighing on her?
“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we?”
“I know, but…” Syanna clenched her hands into fists, then quickly relaxed them. “I’ve never seen anyone else do what I did.”
Yennefer nodded slightly, her gaze steady. She knew exactly what was troubling the young rescuer.
“Who has the right to opt out of a mission?” she asked, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Uh… all of us.”
“And when do we do it?”
“When we know we can’t handle it,” Syanna replied, lowering her gaze, but she quickly looked back at Yennefer. “Yenna, I get that, but still…”
“So why would I be mad at you?” Yennefer interrupted, her voice firm. “If you’d said nothing and screwed up the mission, then I’d be furious. That rule exists so we can speak up when something’s wrong. It’s how we build trust.”
“Have you ever refused a mission?” Syanna asked quietly.
Yennefer paused briefly, though she knew the answer immediately.
“No, I’ve never refused. But I remember one situation that could’ve ended tragically if not for sheer luck. Since then, I promised myself I would speak up if I ever felt I couldn’t do it. But… that feeling never came.” Her voice was calm yet resolute. “Maybe that’s the point. Just knowing you have the right to say no gives you the strength not to use it. Damn, that sounded wise,” she added.
“Yes,” Syanna laughed softly. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m definitely right.” Yennefer rose gracefully from the floor. “Let’s get back to it. The dummy’s waiting, and I’ve had enough deep conversations for one week. I’m not a psychologist, for God's sake,” she quipped with a playful smirk.
“Thanks,” Syanna said, her smile full of gratitude.
“Stretcher or backpack?”
Syanna hesitated for a moment, but Yennefer knew she’d make the right choice.
“Stretcher. You can put the collar on the dummy since you’re such an expert.”
Yennefer laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. When she had told Geralt last week how much she loved Sunday night shifts, this was exactly the kind of scene she had in mind. Well, that or a quick nap. She was fully aware, though, that paramedics working in emergency services likely dreamed of even a few minutes of peace or a pleasant distraction.
They practiced evacuation techniques and first aid for victims until, at some point, an audience — in the form of all the men from the unit — gathered under the climbing wall, commenting and judging their every move. The two women ignored them, focusing on their tasks, muttering curses under their breath as they worked flawlessly together. Roche even praised them, as usual in his serious tone, as if evacuating a dummy without a man’s help was an extraordinary feat.
The teasing continued as the women packed up their gear, exchanging playful jabs. Yennefer noted that the volunteers had integrated well into the group, even though they’d only been there for a few hours. She resolved to set aside her reservations and give them a fair chance, especially one of them. Maybe he was really just smitten, causing that strange feeling earlier.
Night shifts always sparked controversy among the MCRS management. Emergency calls at night were rare in their area, mostly one or two per week. There was constant debate over whether one duty officer and two rescuers would suffice, with the rest of the team on call from home. The issue was that even when they didn’t have to, rescuers often showed up at the station anyway, wanting to be on-site. Eventually, everyone agreed that full readiness made sense, response time was crucial, and the management had more pressing issues to address.
On Yennefer's shift, there were four professional rescuers : herself, Roche, Eskel, and Chireadan. Syanna and Cahir were on candidate duty, while Iorveth and Coën were volunteers who spent as much time at the station as the professionals. From what Yennefer recalled, both ran their own businesses, making it easier for them to balance work and volunteer commitments. Now, the team has been joined by two new volunteers, Dorien and Rience.
Some volunteers completed their required hours similarly to the new pair, often during work holidays or breaks around festive seasons. They would come to the station and serve shifts like professional rescuers, staying in a state of readiness. However, most volunteers arrived only when alerted through a specialized app on their phones. Currently, there were over fifty active volunteers in their region.
Night shifts had a unique charm. Yennefer often spent time in the rec room, which resembled a cozy living room, sipping tea and watching Chireadan and Iorveth play PlayStation. Chireadan brought the console every night, ensuring some lighthearted entertainment during quieter times. To an outsider, their shifts might seem unprofessional; instead of standing at attention, they often climbed walls, practiced rescue scenarios, played games, read books, or even napped. However, they were all capable of dropping whatever they were doing instantly’s notice, ready to deploy. Their inactivity was deceptive. Even their sleep when they could get any was light, with the alarm’s blare jolting them awake instantly.
The duty rescuer had the toughest job. Tied to his desk, he has to be ready to answer calls at any moment. There was no time for sleep or video games in their shared lounge. Because of this, the rest of the team often kept them company, sometimes watching movies on the wall-mounted TV or chatting the night away. That's why they were the best team.
The peaceful week broke on Friday. Shortly after midnight, the sound of the phone ringing cut through the quiet. Yennefer instinctively sprang to her feet and walked down the corridor toward the duty room. Chireadan was already seated next to Crach, attentively listening to the call. When Crach hung up, his serious expression softened slightly. Roche and Iorveth entered just behind her.
“A panicked guy called,” Crach informed them with a slight smile. “He wanted to spend a romantic weekend with his girlfriend, but now he says they’re likely surrounded by a pack of wolves and need help.”
“You’re kidding,” Roche frowned. “Where are they?”
“Near Wolf’s Maw,” Crach zoomed in on the map, highlighting the area around the hill he mentioned.
“Wolves in Wolf’s Maw,” Chireadan chuckled, while Yennefer merely raised an eyebrow, her expression carrying a hint of indulgent disdain. Deep down, the absurd coincidence amused her too, though she tried not to show it. “Can I go too?” Chireadan asked eagerly, casting a hopeful glance at Philippa, who had just entered the room.
“Someone has to stay at the base. If another call comes in, I can’t send only the candidates,” Philippa pointed out, though everyone was already well aware of the protocols.
“I’ll stay, you go,” Iorveth offered calmly, noticing his colleague’s excitement.
“Thanks!”
“Alright, you three get ready,” Crach directed, glancing at the map again. “Take the old Land Rover. I’ll send you the exact coordinates. I’ll notify the Forest Service; they’ll handle it. Just check if they need medical assistance and wait for the patrol.”
“Be careful out there!” Philippa added as they hurried out.
Yennefer, Chireadan, and Roche rushed to the vehicle, pulling on their jackets as they went. Yennefer took the front passenger seat, while Chireadan hopped into the back, settling on the right-side bench. Though they casually referred to the vehicle as “the old one,” the Land Rover was in excellent condition and often outperformed the sleek, modern vehicles the unit had received earlier in the year, especially on rough forest trails. As the doors slammed shut, Yennefer felt a surge of excitement. It had been a while since she’d had such an unusual night call.
Roche started the engine and drove out of the garage, turning on the flashing lights and sirens. Yennefer watched the strobing lights illuminating the night landscape. Despite their potential to distract the driver, she loved the sensation of the flashing lights, the dark road ahead, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was addictive.
After several minutes, they reached the clearing Crach had directed them to. The silver moon hung low on the horizon, casting a pale glow over the shadowy landscape. In the darkness, a small campfire flickered faintly, illuminated a lonely tent. An ominous silence and pitch-black night enveloped the area. Roche drove the vehicle onto the clearing, avoiding any unnecessary risks by staying inside. According to Crach, the Forest Service had reported wolf activity in this area not long ago, so the threat was real. Roche parked the Land Rover near the tent, switched off the blue lights, and activated the work lights, which effectively illuminated their surroundings, scattering shadows between the trees.
Yennefer kept her gaze fixed on the tree line, scanning for the slightest movement, though she trusted the sound of the vehicle would have scared off any wildlife.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She felt invisible eyes on her from the forest’s depths, as if the pack was lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for a vulnerable prey.
“This is MCRS. Are you inside?” Roche called out, rolling down the window.
“Yes…” came the shaky voice of a young man.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, but they were really close…” he replied, his fear evident in his trembling voice.
“Stay calm. Can you get ready to leave? Just grab the essentials; you can return for the rest during the day,” Roche reassured him.
“Okay… are you sure they’re gone?”
Roche glanced at Yennefer, who shook her head.
“The clearing looks clear. They probably fled when they heard the engine.”
With caution, Roche stepped out of the vehicle, while Yennefer maintained her watch on the forest’s edge. The vehicle’s lights illuminated the entire clearing, providing excellent visibility. Chireadan, sitting in the back, scanned the surroundings, ready to act.
“You can come out!” Roche called toward the tent. Chireadan quickly opened the rear door, helping the frightened couple into the vehicle. They were visibly shaken and exhausted, dressed in heavy sweatpants and clutching small backpacks.
“You’re safe now,” Chireadan assured them with a calm but firm voice. “Take a seat and buckle up.”
Meanwhile, Yennefer reached for the radio.
“Central report for Yennefer.”
“Reporting for Yen.”
“We’ve got two people here. They’re just scared, no injuries. No signs of wolves, likely scared off by the noise.”
“Roger that. The Forest Service will be there in a minute.”
“Understood.”
Through the mirror, Yennefer watched as Roche carefully poured water over the campfire to extinguish it, then quickly returned to the vehicle. The team remained alert, scanning their surroundings while they awaited the forestry patrol. Chireadan worked to calm the frightened young woman.
Moments later, another rugged vehicle arrived—a dark Land Cruiser belonging to the Forest Service. Two tall men stepped out, clad in distinctive forest ranger uniforms, with rifles slung over their shoulders. At the sight of them, Yennefer couldn’t help but recall the last search operation and the terrified teenager they had rescued.
The forest rangers climbed into the back of the vehicle, greeting the team with brief nods. Without wasting time, they began explaining in a calm yet firm tone that camping in the mountainous area without proper permits was a serious violation, especially now that a wolf pack had been spotted nearby. Yennefer turned slightly in her seat, observing how the young couple shrank under the weight of the rangers’ words. Though still visibly shaken, they seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Before transferring the couple to the second vehicle, the team conducted one last thorough scan of the clearing. It appeared tranquil—no signs of wolves. Men took over the frightened tourists, saying goodbye to the rescue team with a nod. As the Land Cruiser drove off, Yennefer couldn't help but wonder if this unusual date would bring the young couple closer together or push them apart. Either way, it would certainly be a story to remember.
Roche started the Land Rover and followed the patrol vehicle, heading back to base. Yennefer picked up the radio.
“Crach, this is Yennefer.”
“Go ahead, Yen.”
“The tourists have been handed over to the Forest Service. We're returning to base.”
“Understood.”
They drove slowly along the uneven forest road, and Yennefer found herself peering out the window, intrigued. The thought crossed her mind that she wouldn’t mind seeing a wolf in the wild—as long as she was safely inside the vehicle.
The entire ride back, Chireadan couldn't stop joking about the wolves in Wolf’s Maw, clearly amused by the irony.
“If it were a full moon, I’d be worried they were werewolves,” he laughed as they pulled into the garage a few minutes later. “Is there a weapon for ‘werewolves’?”
“Silver,” Yennefer replied, recalling a movie. “But I don’t think werewolves are in a rescuer’s job description.”
“Who, then, deals with killing monsters?” Chireadan asked, his tone suddenly curious, as if the idea genuinely intrigued him.
“I don’t know,” Yennefer replied with mild exasperation. The conversation seemed absurd to her.
“Witchers,” Roche said tersely. “According to local legends, witchers hunted monsters—for money.”
“We should have a witcher on the team. What do you think, Yen? Will you become a witcher?” Chireadan continued, grinning.
“Only men became witchers,” Roche added, surprisingly engaged in the banter. Normally, he avoided such silly discussions. “At least, that’s what the old stories say.”
“Maybe Eskel then? He’s strong. He’d make a good witcher.” Chireadan mused, still entertaining himself.
Yennefer rolled her eyes, suppressing a yawn as the chilly night air drifted through the open garage doors. A shiver ran down her spine, prompting her to press the button to close the door. She noticed Chireadan was still talking, with Roche occasionally nodding, but she tuned them out. Pulling her warm sweatshirt tighter around herself, she headed upstairs.
It was nearing 2 a.m., and the prospect of a few hours of sleep seemed far more appealing than any witcher’s adventure. A little rest sounded like the perfect end to this unusual rescue action.
Chapter 6
Notes:
I am steering this avalanche slowly on the right path, no matter how dangerous it may sound.
I finally did the math and it turned out that there will be about 25 chapters in total, although I suspect that this number may change. I hope you’re not too worn out—rescue work is tough, after all. We still have a long way to go and some lives to save! ❤
Thank you so much for being here with me, for reading and following along.
I especially thank those who leave comments. I love reading them, regardless of the length. Thank you, thank you!
Chapter Text
A week off work promised to be anything but relaxing. Despite the bad, stormy weather, Yennefer felt the timing was perfect for her plans. She had finally decided to take on the long-overdue task of renovating her bedroom. Sleeping on the pull-out couch in her study for the past two months had taken its toll. She woke up stiff and sore, which, given her age and the demands of her profession, was simply unacceptable. She needed her own space, a place where she could truly rest.
The most difficult obstacle, and the primary reason the project had stalled, was the wardrobe. A large, sliding-door unit with an enormous mirrored front, it had been custom-designed to fit one wall. The salesman had strongly advised professional assembly, but Yennefer, ever confident in her capabilities, had waved him off. After all, she handled far more complex situations daily. A wardrobe? No big deal.
Reality, however, hit hard. With her modest height, she had no chance to do it alone. The task quickly turned from an easy project into a frustrating ordeal. Discouraged, she left the bedroom unfinished. The new flooring, stark white walls and half-assembled wardrobe seemed to mock her self-sufficiency.
The bed had been temporarily moved to the guest room, which had since turned into a makeshift storage area. Boxes full of books and parts of a bookcase cluttered the space—but she was confident she could handle assembling the latter.
Yennefer drafted a detailed plan. Interior design had never been her strong suit, but she was determined to give it her best shot. The longer she stared at the stark white walls, the more lifeless they seemed. She resolved to add some color to the room and hoped Ciri would help her pick out accents. Working on the project together might be a wonderful way to spend quality time.
Monday arrived under heavy clouds that blocked the sun, leaving the air eerily still, as if the world itself were holding its breath. After driving Ciri to school, Yennefer headed to the store. Standing before an endless array of paint swatches, she felt oddly out of her depth. She was adept at making decisions in crises—not at choosing between countless variations of the same hue. After much deliberation, she decided on violet—the one color she felt she could trust.
However, the sheer range of shades was overwhelming. There were simply too many. Too many for what should've been just a straightforward violet.
She let out a frustrated sigh and closed her eyes. When she reopened them, her gaze fell immediately on a small sample labeled “Violet Amethyst.” It was soft and understated, nothing like what she had imagined from a color with “Amethyst” in its name. This time, she chose without a second thought. The bedroom needed to feel spacious and bright, full of light and warmth. She was done with the oppressive darkness of the walls and heavy furniture that had surrounded her lately.
She briefly considered some shades of green and blue, but none truly spoke to her. The only exception was “Cornflower Meadow,” a shade that perfectly mirrored the color of Triss's eyes.
At the end of the day, one of the walls was painted violet, and Yennefer knew that was enough. She didn't want to paint the whole room, and one colorful wall changed the character of the room enough. This bedroom was slowly changing, becoming a refuge to which she could happily return after exhausting missions. But the disassembled wardrobe parts still lay scattered across the room in torn boxes, a reminder that the most important task remained unfinished.
The issue of assembling the wardrobe continued to nag at her. She knew one phone call to Geralt would solve the problem—he would almost certainly help without hesitation. But the very thought of asking him for a favor filled her with resistance.
Damn pride.
Sometimes, it was her worst enemy.
For a moment, she considered asking someone from her unit for help. She was certain the guys from the station would agree without a second thought, but the prospect of enduring weeks of jokes about “manly tasks” kept her from going through with it. Hiring an assembly service was expensive, and the idea of calling around to find a cheaper option didn’t appeal to her either. She caught herself pacing around the apartment like a tiger trapped in a cage, frustrated and angry. The renovation had stalled again, and her mood was starting to affect everyone around her.
“Mom, why don’t you ask dad for help?” Ciri asked during dinner, her large green eyes fixed on her mother.
“Geralt has his own life and his own problems,” Yennefer replied coolly, focusing on putting the washed dishes back into the cabinet. The repetitive movements helped her maintain her composure.
“But dad always helps everyone!” Ciri protested.
“That doesn't mean I should ask him for everything,” Yennefer said, keeping her voice as neutral as she could.
“Then I can ask him for you if you want…”
“Finish your dinner, Ciri,” she cut her off more sharply than she intended.
“You're always mad lately!” Ciri shot back with a hint of childish defiance in her voice. “If you're not at work all day, you're just mad.”
Yennefer turned to look at her daughter. The girl was poking at her oatmeal with a spoon, her cheek resting on one hand, her gaze fixed on the bowl in front of her. The sight made something inside Yennefer crack. At work, she could keep her cool in the most challenging situations, but here, in her own kitchen, she couldn't manage a simple conversation with her daughter.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
She was tired of it all: work, home, raising her daughter, then work again… and the loneliness. She watched as Ciri slowly ate her dinner, her movements lifeless. This wasn’t her daughter—the girl who usually couldn’t sit still, not even when she was upset.
Suddenly, Ciri stood up, placed her dirty plate in the empty dishwasher, and, instead of running upstairs like she usually did, she walked over and hugged her tightly.
“Our teacher at school says asking for help isn’t something to be ashamed of,” she mumbled into her sweater. “Why don’t you ever ask anyone for help?”
Yennefer felt her throat tighten.
“It’s not that simple, my pretty one,” she replied, stroking Ciri’s hair.
“Yes, it is!” Ciri pulled back to look at her.
Yennefer couldn’t help but smile.
“And do you always ask for help at school?”
“Well… not always,” Ciri admitted, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I got it from you.”
They both laughed, and the sound broke the tension in the air.
“I just want…” Ciri added, nestling closer again. “For you to be a normal mom sometimes.”
Yennefer felt her eyes grow damp. She kissed the top of Ciri’s head.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
They stood like that for a moment, holding each other. Finally, Ciri pulled away, mumbled a “goodnight,” and headed upstairs. She stopped on the first step, though, and turned around with a wide smile.
“Mom? That violet color in your room is wonderful. It suits you!”
Ciri’s footsteps faded above before Yennefer could say anything. Her lips curved upward despite herself at her daughter’s comment. She returned to tidying up, feeling Pontar’s watchful eyes on her. The dog didn’t look away, even when she sank onto the couch after cleaning up in the bathroom, burying her face in her hands.
Small steps, Yennefer. Not everything at once.
Like climbing a mountain. Slowly but surely, one solid path at a time. She reached for her phone to check wardrobe assembly prices. Even though she’d promised herself to save money, she knew this wouldn’t be a pointless expense. It was impacting her daily life too much. The price differences were significant, but the money wasn’t her focus anymore. She wanted to show Ciri that the girl was right. True strength sometimes lies in admitting we don’t have to do everything on our own.
By the end of the week, the bedroom finally had a fully assembled wardrobe, and across from it, against the violet wall, stood a bed in natural wood tones. The violet hue reflected in the wardrobe’s mirrored doors, making the entire room look even better than she had imagined. But it had come at a cost—not just financially, but also to her pride. The men who assembled the wardrobe had also helped move the bed. They had only done so because she’d been polite and offered them lunch and coffee. She—Yennefer—had been polite. If her colleagues heard about it, they’d probably laugh themselves to tears.
Now all that remained was to wait for the mattress she’d ordered, and she promised herself that during her next week off, she would assemble the bookshelf and finally organize everything on the shelves and in the wardrobe.
She had no illusions about getting anything meaningful done during her upcoming 12-hour shifts. Tomorrow marked the start of another grueling workweek, leaving her with little time for Ciri. During those days, Ciri would spend most of her time with Geralt, while Yennefer would occasionally stop by in the evenings—just long enough to say hello before heading back to her own place. The thought of it stirred a familiar ache. She knew all too well the sting of growing up with absent parents, and now it felt as though history was repeating itself in a bitter twist of irony.
She tried to rationalize it, though she knew the effort was futile. Her relationship with Ciri was far from the hopeless one she had endured with her own mother. While her demanding schedule left her with limited time during the week, she made sure to devote her free days to Ciri, and even during her night shifts, they found ways to connect. It was more than her parents had ever given her.
Her childhood had been marked by neglect. Her parents treated her as if she did not exist and was an unwanted addition to her older siblings. When her deceased aunt left her a house in Redania, far from her hometown, her family passed it on to her without hesitation, almost as if they were relieved to be rid of a burden. At first, she had felt deeply hurt, but she had turned that pain into resolve. She severed ties with her family and rebuilt her life on her own terms, channeling her grief into independence.
She had made herself a promise back then: she would never repeat her parents’ mistakes.
Sunday, June 09, 7:43 AM
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
Morning found Yennefer pulling into the station parking lot, fatigue etched into her face. In the rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of faint bags under her eyes and an unmistakably tired expression. She hadn’t bothered to mask it with makeup—she rarely did for work. It wasn’t practical, and she was fairly certain the MCRS regulations discouraged it anyway.
Pontar, in stark contrast, was a bundle of energy. The overcast days and stormy evenings had given way to pleasantly mild temperatures, perfect for the long-haired shepherd. He bounded up the small terrace leading to the station entrance, sniffing enthusiastically as he darted around the doorway. His tail wagged furiously, and he seemed visibly excited about something. Yennefer approached him slowly, watching his unusual behavior.
“What’s got you so worked up? Miss the job already?” she asked, her tone tinged with amusement despite her exhaustion.
When she opened the door, Pontar immediately shot off with his nose to the ground, heading straight for the briefing room. He didn’t even glance at Crach.
That's weird.
Yennefer turned toward the locker room first, allowing herself a moment of solitude. She changed slowly, struggling with her unruly black curls. She usually braided her hair, as it was a practical style that stayed secure during missions. Today, though, she didn’t have the energy for it. Instead, she pulled her raven-black hair into a loose ponytail at her nape. Finally, she put on the stiff, heavy-duty pants, threw on her t-shirt, and carefully tied her boots.
She was ready. Or, at least, she told herself she was.
Entering the briefing room, Yennefer was still focused on her phone screen. Geralt wasn’t back yet from his night shift, and Ciri was waiting alone at his house. She couldn’t help but keep checking for a message from her daughter, confirming that everything was fine.
It wasn’t until a moment later that she remembered Pontar’s strange behavior. When she finally lifted her head from the phone and looked around the room, the reason for his excitement became clear. Her dog was sitting obediently, almost perfectly still on the floor, except for his tail, which swept rhythmically from side to side. Beside him, crouched a red-haired journalist, her signature smile lighting up the entire room as always.
Yennefer felt the weight of the past week suddenly melt away. It was absurd. How could one person have such an effect on her? She quickly pushed the thought aside. She was simply glad to see a friendly face, that’s all. It was normal for someone so positive to lift the mood. Nothing more.
“So that’s why you were so happy, Pontar. Now I understand,” she said, trying to keep her tone neutral, though the corners of her mouth had already betrayed her, curving into a smile. “Hey, I hope everything’s okay.”
“Hi, Yennefer,” Triss replied brightly, standing up. Pontar, clearly displeased at the interruption of his affection, responded with a sharp snap of his jaws.
“Behave,” Yennefer scolded him with a stern look, though inwardly she was amused by his reaction.
The dog obeyed immediately, sitting down once more. Normally, Pontar kept his distance from people, even those he was familiar with, unless he particularly liked someone. With Triss, his behavior was different. Just like his owner, Yennefer thought to herself, then quickly chided herself for the thought.
“Oh, come on, he’s such a sweetheart,” Triss said, glancing at the dog and scratching him behind the ear again. For a moment, Yennefer allowed herself to admire how the soft morning light caught in Triss’s auburn hair.
“He’s a little traitor. He didn't even say hello to anyone, just ran straight to you,” Yennefer said lightly.
“Did he really recognize my scent?”
“I don't know. He was wagging his tail happily as soon as we got to the stairs,” Yennefer replied, maintaining her usual slightly ironic tone, though she couldn't deny feeling just as excited about this unexpected encounter.
“How cute!” Triss smiled again.
The noise of conversation interrupted their exchange as the rest of the rescue team entered the room, each person taking their usual seat without even noticing them standing up front. Yennefer wanted to ask Triss what she was doing there, but at that moment, Philippa walked in. The sight of her boss was enough to remind Yennefer of her place.
“Take a seat, Yennefer,” Philippa said quickly, her voice carrying the authority that usually spelled trouble. Philippa had a plan, and when Philippa had a plan, everyone else had to adjust.
As usual, Yennefer perched on the windowsill, this time choosing a spot closer to Philippa and Triss. She leaned her hands on the sill, crossing her ankles, trying to project an air of calm even though her mind was running in overdrive. She watched as Triss stood beside Philippa, dressed in a simple but elegant navy blouse buttoned all the way up. She looked professional yet managed to retain her natural charm. Pontar sat by Yennefer’s leg, glancing between her and Triss.
“Where’s Chireadan? Damn it…” Philippa cursed, scanning the room.
“Here,” came a teasing voice from behind Eskel. “Am I really that invisible?”
Philippa only shook her head before diving straight into business. She began with the standard updates on the weather and upcoming shifts before moving on to the main topic. Yennefer noticed how Triss unconsciously straightened her posture as Philippa began speaking about her.
“Some of you have already had the chance to meet Miss Triss Merigold,” Philippa said, gesturing toward the journalist, who offered a shy smile. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks as all eyes turned to her. “Triss has been offered the position of official liaison between our unit and the press.”
Yennefer felt her stomach twist into a tight knot. Triss was going to work here. Regularly. In her space. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it did.
“She’s going to write about our operations?” Eskel asked, leaning forward with interest.
“Yes,” Triss answered, her voice steadier than Yennefer expected. “But only the stories you agree to share. I want to show people the real face of mountain rescue. Not cheap sensationalism.”
“Triss did a fantastic job on that article about our brilliant Yennefer,” Philippa said with her trademark irony, prompting a wave of laughter from the team.
Yennefer, pretending to bow, allowed herself a faint smile, though inwardly she was laser-focused on the unfolding situation. Working with the press was always risky. One poorly written article could destroy a reputation built over years. Would Triss be capable of something like that?
“But the decision is up to all of you,” Philippa continued. “If anyone objects to having a journalist in the station, speak up now. That said, I think it’s a smart move. Good articles can help us secure funding for the unit, and as you all know, sponsors are always a challenge.”
“Triss, will you be joining us on missions?” Roche asked seriously, studying her closely.
“Only if you’re okay with it,” Triss replied before Philippa could interject. “I don’t want to get in the way. I’m here to observe and document your work.”
“What about photos? Can we review them before anything gets published?” someone else chimed in.
“Yes, I would like to collaborate with all of you and won’t do anything without your consent. But first, I need to understand how you work,” she said, her voice firm yet gentle. “From what Philippa told me, my first week will be spent here at the station, observing from the sidelines.”
Yennefer caught the quick glance Philippa shot at the journalist. Triss was handling the questions remarkably well. There wasn’t a trace of hesitation, she knew exactly what she was doing. It was… fascinating.
Yennefer shifted slightly closer to the windowsill, leaning forward a little. Her gaze, though outwardly neutral, was sharp, and her thoughts raced faster than she wanted them to. Triss was answering questions with extraordinary poise. There was something mesmerizing about her demeanor, the way she held eye contact, never dodging a single question.
“Does Triss have any experience?” Roche asked, a note of skepticism evident in his voice.
This time, Philippa looked at Triss, who gave a small nod. It was as if they understood each other without words. There was something in that silent exchange that sparked a pang of irritation. Or was it jealousy? Yennefer immediately scolded herself for the thought.
“Triss has a basic first aid certification,” Philippa answered for her. “But I’d like you to take some time, when you can, to familiarize her with the equipment and refresh her knowledge of first aid. As a journalist, she can accompany you during missions, but without formal rescue qualifications, she can’t actively participate. However, if you find yourselves in a situation where her help might be useful, you can treat her like any other bystander.”
“I promise not to get in the way,” Triss added, her tone sincere and understanding.
Yennefer felt the tension in the room begin to ease. She noticed her colleagues exchanging glances, their earlier skepticism giving way to interest—not just in Triss as a journalist, but as a woman. Chireadan, in particular, seemed utterly captivated. Triss, with her seemingly delicate charm, had a way of winning people over. But what would happen when a real crisis comes? Would she find her footing then?
Yennefer raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat.
“Triss will be with us every day during shifts?” Yennefer asked, striving to keep her tone neutral.
“For now, yes... usually for a few hours, except Thursdays,” Philippa replied, casting a questioning glance at Triss, who confirmed with a nod. “For larger operations, like the recent search and rescue, you can notify her. She has a spot in my office.”
Yennefer noticed how Triss tensed slightly at the mention of the last mission. It was a subtle change, one she might have missed if she hadn’t been watching her so closely.
Perhaps this was exactly why Triss needed to be here, to show people that rescue work wasn’t just heroic feats but also carried immense risks and responsibilities.
“I’d like you all to get along,” Philippa continued. “The article about working with a rescue dog turned out really well. If Triss wants to talk to you about your work, please be open to it. Of course, only within the bounds of what you’re comfortable with. No one will force you into anything.”
Triss stood calmly, but her fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of her notebook. That small gesture revealed more than Triss likely intended. She genuinely wanted the team’s acceptance.
“Does anyone object?” Philippa asked, sweeping her gaze across the room.
Silence fell. Yennefer scanned the faces of her colleagues. No one raised a hand; no one said a word. It was clear that Triss had their approval. And though Yennefer wasn’t sure yet what this meant for her, she knew it marked the beginning of something new.
"Well then, I think that settles it,” Philippa said with a satisfied smile she couldn’t quite hide. “Give Triss a tour of the station when you have a moment. It's Sunday, so she can see what your typical duty is like.” She took a short break, “Think it all through calmly. Tomorrow at the briefing we can return to the topic if there are any doubts. And if anyone wants to talk to me in private, you know where to find me.”
Everyone nodded and Philippa gathered her things.
“That concludes the briefing,” she announced. Then she shot Triss one of her signature, slightly mocking looks. “And you, Triss… I’m leaving you to the wolves.”
As Philippa exited, the room immediately filled with the sound of chairs scraping and conversations starting up. Triss was left standing alone in front of everyone, but the attention from the rescuers seemed to have a calming effect. She quickly regained her confidence, greeting each of them in turn, shaking hands and smiling warmly.
Yennefer straightened up, watching the scene from the sidelines. She signaled Pontar that he was free, but to her surprise, he stayed by her side. He had a soft spot for Triss, but all the surrounding commotion seemed to be a bit too much. Even for him.
“Welcome to the team, Merigold,” she said dryly, waving at her from across the crowd. Her voice carried a hint of irony she couldn't suppress. She had mixed feelings, though it was difficult to admit it. Triss looked at her and gave a faint smile, and for a moment, Yennefer couldn't tear her gaze away.
Then she quickly turned on her heel and left the room before anyone could stop her. What was happening to her was ridiculous. Unacceptable. She knew the team would most likely take Triss to the garage first. She needed to go somewhere else.
She needed space to process the situation but didn't want to appear as though she was running away. Not her. The fact that one person could disrupt her meticulously ordered world was starting to irritate her. And yet, it was happening, here and now. Triss's presence was creating chaos in a carefully structured system. A walk with Triss was light and pleasant; even their conversation at the café had felt surprisingly comfortable despite the emotional weight. But damn it—this was her workplace. A place where she had to stay focused and act professionally. Total control.
A recent search showed that it was easy to keep Triss at a proper distance during the action. Yennefer immediately went into work mode, which didn't require much effort on her part. It was years of experience, clear procedures and a specific task. Her mind had a purpose, leaving no room for… irrelevant details. The light in her eyes. The way she corrects her hair. Yennefer clenched her jaw. But here, waiting at the base…. Hours of enforced closeness, with no way to escape into work. Maintaining this control under such conditions drained energy she needed elsewhere.
Why am I obsessing over this?
An absurd thought about talking to Philippa flitted through her mind. What would she even say? That a mountain rescue specialist with her experience, who had led operations in the worst conditions, squeezed through narrow cave crevices, and pulled people from life-threatening situations… couldn’t maintain professionalism around a journalist? Pathetic.
She followed Pontar into the duty room, letting him take the lead this time.
Crach, as always, was lounging comfortably in his chair, scrolling through something on his phone.
“You hear who’s joining us?” she asked, sitting backward on a chair, her arms, and head resting on the backrest as she glanced at the maps on the screens.
“Yeah,” he replied, turning to her with a slight smile. “Philippa told me this morning. Should be fun.”
Fun?
Yennefer raised her eyebrows. That wasn’t exactly the word she would have chosen.
“Mhm,” she muttered, staring at the screens, though her mind was elsewhere.
Crach studied her more closely.
“Got a problem with it?”
“No, I’m just wondering how it’s going to play out,” she said hesitantly, trying to mask her unease.
“Train her well, show her the equipment, go over the procedures. If anything happens, she’ll know what to do,” he said, turning his attention back to the computer screen.
Crach had a point. Yennefer’s gaze lingered on one of the wall-mounted televisions. The images flickered, showing the latest news, but the sound was muted.
Chireadan suddenly entered the room with Triss and Eskel, catching her and Crach off guard. Contrary to her expectations, they hadn't gone to the garage. She sighed quietly, sitting on the chair and observing the situation unfold. She straightened slightly, drawing her shoulder blades together.
“This is the heart of the unit, Triss,” Chireadan began with a teasing tone. “The most important place, the true essence of rescue work, and…”
“The dining hall is the most important,” Eskel interrupted with a mischievous grin.
Crach chuckled and extended his hand to Triss.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Merigold,” he said politely.
“Likewise. Please call me Triss,” she replied warmly, and the rescuer nodded.
“And this,” Chireadan gestured toward the workstation with monitors, “is the unit’s command center. All calls come in here, and Crach assigns tasks to the teams.”
“Doesn’t Philippa handle that as the chief?” Triss asked, looking at Crach with curiosity.
Crach shook his head.
“No. She’s got other responsibilities. But she can take over at any time. If she’s here and gives the order, we follow it.”
“She led the last search operation?” Triss pressed, her question sounding more like a statement.
“Yes,” Crach replied matter-of-factly. “In those situations, the duty officer handles communications between services. I coordinate everything from here while she leads in the field. Besides, that search wasn’t during our shift, which changes the procedures a bit.”
Triss bit her lower lip slightly, processing the information. Yennefer noticed her thoughtful expression. Procedures, while straightforward for those familiar with them, might seem convoluted to an outsider. The team understood this, and no one treated Triss with condescension. On the contrary—Chireadan and Eskel seemed eager to help her.
“You’ll pick it all up as you go,” Eskel assured her. “This room is significant, though, and Crach is always here.”
“Indeed,” the duty officer chimed in, glancing at Triss and winking. “If you ever need to escape from them or take a breather, feel free to drop by here. We can even find you a spot at the desk if Philippa gives you a hard time.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind,” the journalist replied, glancing around the duty room.
The bright room was flooded with natural light pouring in through a large window, which offered a clear view of the garage doors. A spacious corner desk was neatly arranged with two monitors, a radio console, a phone, several small microphones, and a printer. The walls were decorated with large television screens and a magnetic board covered in maps and various pinned notes. A wooden cabinet, brimming with colorful binders and documents, added a splash of color to the otherwise functional space. A few upholstered chairs were scattered around the corners, but Crach’s chair stood out. It was noticeably more comfortable than the rest.
Triss examined the room’s details with visible interest, as if trying to commit everything to memory.
“Here, you’ll find all the information about every minute of a mission. If you need anything for your articles, Crach remembers everything,” Yennefer said calmly, catching Triss’s gaze.
Crach lazily spun in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“That’s right, happy to help,” he murmured with a faint smile.
Suddenly, Pontar let out a contented sigh, settling more comfortably into his favorite corner. All eyes turned to the dog, whose behavior seemed to confirm the duty officer’s words.
“See? Even the dog knows where the best spot is,” the duty officer joked, glancing at Yennefer.
She smirked slightly, watching Pontar lying in an amusing position, his paws stretched out in front of him. She was glad to have him around.
“Well then, shall we move on?” Chireadan asked, glancing at Triss.
Triss nodded and stepped back toward the door. Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing filled the room. All the rescuers’ attention immediately turned to Crach, who picked up the call.
Unsure what to do, Triss froze in the doorway. Yennefer gestured for her to come closer, pointing to a nearby chair.
“During an alarm, it’s better not to stand in the doorway,” she whispered, and Triss quickly sat down, visibly tense. Their knees almost touched, something Yennefer noticed but decided not to react.
“Is it a callout?” Triss asked quietly, hurriedly pulling out her notebook.
“Mhm,” Yennefer nodded, watching as the journalist searched her bag for a pen. She caught herself observing Triss’s every move again.
“Climbing team to go,” Crach announced over the microphone. His voice echoed throughout the station.
Moments later, Iorweth and Roche burst into the room, making Triss jump slightly in her chair. She gave Yennefer a grateful glance—thankful she wasn’t still standing in the doorway. A moment later, Syanna walked in, her pace calmer.
“Listen up,” Crach began. “We’ve got a call from Witches’ Hill. A 21-year-old male fell off a climbing wall. He’s hanging on the rope, unconscious. Chireadan and Syanna, take the quad and assess the situation. The rest of you follow with the high-angle rescue gear.”
The team confirmed and dispersed quickly; it all happened in a matter of moments.
Eskel turned to Triss.
“Well, lucky timing for you. Want to stay here or tag along?”
“Can I stay and listen?” she asked, her excitement clear in her voice.
Eskel smiled and nodded. He settled into one of the chairs, scooting closer to the desk and glancing over Crach’s notes.
The radio crackled again.
“Chireadan to Central.”
“I report,” replied Crach, taking notes.
“We are going out to an accident on the Witches' Hill.”
“Roger.”
Yennefer glanced out the window. The quad, its blue light flashing, was pulling out of the garage with two rescuers on board. The sound of the siren followed a second later.
The vehicle quickly disappeared through the gate, but the echoes of the sirens lingered. Moments later, Roche confirmed their departure over the radio. Another team headed to the scene, this time in a terrain vehicle towing an enclosed trailer packed with climbing equipment.
Crach leaned back in his chair, reaching for his coffee mug.
“And now we do what we do most often…” he sighed.
Triss looked questioningly at Yennefer, who, without lifting her gaze from the computer screen, finished for him:
“Wait, Triss. Usually, we wait.”
Triss nodded, trying to process this. Before she could say anything, Crach slid a stack of papers toward her.
“Have a look at these,” he said. “Call-out forms, rescuer reports, and a ton of other paperwork. It might be useful for your article.”
Triss took the documents, flipping through them with interest.
“Thanks. Do you have to fill all this out after every mission? That’s a lot,” she remarked, not looking up.
Yennefer straightened her posture again, though it hardly seemed possible to sit any straighter. She tried not to notice how Triss kept unintentionally bumping her knee.
“That, plus vehicle logs and equipment usage forms,” she explained, glancing sideways at the younger woman. “At first, it’s overwhelming, but it becomes second nature.”
“The hardest part is with new volunteers,” Eskel added. “You have to stay on top of them. But if you make them fill out all the forms after every mission, they catch on pretty fast.”
Crach chuckled.
“Paperwork is the dullest part of this job.”
“Clearly, you’ve never had laundry duty,” Yennefer shot back with sarcasm.
Triss burst out laughing, visibly relaxed by the banter. After a moment, though, she grew serious, as if gathering her courage.
“Listen…” she began cautiously. “For my first piece, could I write about the duty rescuer’s work? I think it’s important. People don’t really understand what goes on behind the scenes.”
Yennefer raised an intrigued eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a faint smile.
“Crach, looks like you’re about to become a star,” she said, amused.
“Right after you, Yenna. Right after you,” Crach replied, giving her an exaggerated bow. Then, turning to Triss with a grin, he added, “I’d be happy to tell you everything. But only if this crew of mine running around the mountains gives me a little peace. So, probably not today.”
Triss nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. Even if this environment came with its challenges, Triss was clearly ready to face them.
“How do you know it won’t be today?” Triss asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“It’s Sunday,” Eskel replied in a calm, assured tone. “It’s warm, people are heading into the mountains, and that’s how our day picks up pace.”
His words hadn’t even finished echoing when the phone in the room rang, as if to confirm his prediction.
Yennefer muttered under her breath, “Didn’t take long.”
She stood up smoothly, instinctively adjusting her pants, and approached Crach, who was already on the call, jotting notes on one of his countless sheets of paper. Yennefer and Eskel stood over him, trying to catch fragments of the conversation.
“Second rescue team called to go,” Crach said into the microphone after ending the call.
It was her assignment. Hers and Coën’s. The second rescuer quickly entered the duty room and leaned over Crach, peering at the monitor.
“You’re heading to Bear Mountain. Green trail, a man with a leg injury. His wife reports his condition is worsening, and he can’t descend on his own.”
Yennefer nodded, processing the information. Her face betrayed nothing but professional focus, but in her mind, she was already forming a plan. Her emotions were immediately pushed aside. That always made things easier.
Pontar, sensing the upcoming action, stood up and looked at his owner expectantly.
“You’re staying here. Rest, pup,” she said briefly, heading toward the garage.
Everything there was as usual. She quickly loaded backpacks onto the trailer, adding a bag with Kramer splints. She secured the equipment with straps, then put on her helmet, fastening the chin strap securely. By the time she was ready, Coën had already started the quad.
“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at her.
“Always,” she replied, gripping the side handles.
The quad roared to life. The blue lights weren’t as visible in the bright sunlight, but nothing could drown out the piercing sound of the siren. That sound always put her into a state of heightened readiness.
As they passed the building, for a moment she felt the urge to glance toward the duty room. She might have seen Triss, but she resisted the temptation. She fixed her gaze on the road ahead, though she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
They arrived at the location within minutes. The ascent had been steep, requiring caution and precision. Yennefer knew that transporting the injured man downhill would be a challenge, but that could wait. For now, the priority was providing medical assistance.
Coën parked the quad on the trail. Yennefer dismounted with grace. She took off her helmet, tossed it onto the seat, and grabbed her backpack. She headed toward the injured man, who was sitting on the grass beside the trail, propping himself up with his hands. He was tall and well-built—the type that hated admitting to weakness. She hadn’t anticipated that this call would prove especially irritating.
“Good afternoon, my name is Yennefer, and I’m a mountain rescuer,” she introduced herself, crouching beside him and setting her backpack down.
Before she could add anything else, the man spoke up indignantly:
“What is this? Are there no proper rescuers left?” His voice was sharp, filled with anger. “They send me a woman?”
He spat out the last word with a tone of disgust. Yennefer glanced briefly at his wife, then back at him, her eyes flashing with a cold edge.
“I am a proper rescuer, sir,” she replied evenly, though her tone carried a warning that her patience was limited. “Please tell me what happened and which leg is hurting.”
She reached for her gloves and looked at him expectantly, but instead of cooperation, she was met with more resistance.
“No way! I won’t let a woman touch me!” he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes glinting with hostility. “You want equality? Here it is!”
Equality? Really?
Yennefer felt a mixture of amusement and anger. Emotions that rarely paired well and could quickly throw her unbalanced.
“Do you hear me? I said no!” he repeated, as if trying to emphasize his “authority.”
Yennefer noticed how the woman next to him kept lowering her eyes, clearly embarrassed by her husband's behavior. She turned her gaze back to the man, feeling her own eyes taking on a cold edge.
“Mark, stop it. They’re rescuers. She’s here to help,” she said quietly, clearly embarrassed.
Yennefer raised an eyebrow but refused to be provoked. Calmly, she closed her backpack, stood up, and reached for her radio. Even though the second rescuer wasn’t far, she preferred not to shout. Additionally, reporting the situation over the radio ensured the incident would be logged at the central.
“Coën, report for Yennefer,” she said, her voice steady and almost devoid of emotion.
“I’m here,” Coën responded immediately.
“Come over here and switch with me. The patient asks for a man to do the examination,” she informed him dryly, stepping aside to make room for her colleague.
“Understood,” Coën replied, emerging from behind the quad and glancing at her.
Yennefer stepped back, allowing her colleague to take the lead. She cast a brief glance at the injured man’s wife and caught a silent plea for understanding in her eyes.
Situations like this weren’t uncommon, and there was nothing surprising about them. However, Yennefer couldn’t ignore the man’s tone or the way he behaved. Despite her irritation, she had to remain professional.
The patient’s well-being came first.
Silently, she prepared the stretcher and splints. From the quad’s storage compartment, she retrieved her leather notebook containing the accident card forms. Still, she couldn’t entirely ignore the insults being thrown her way. Each word grated on her, and it took all her restraint not to snap back at him.
Coën tried to calm the man, but his efforts were in vain. The man’s wife, clearly embarrassed, also attempted to de-escalate the situation.
“Stop insulting her! She’s here to help you,” she hissed, casting an apologetic smile in Yennefer’s direction.
“She should be at home cooking dinner for her man,” the man muttered, wincing as Coën lifted his leg a bit too sharply. “Probably doesn’t even have a man. Who’d want a woman who—ow, that hurts!”
“It’ll hurt for a few more days,” Coën replied coolly. “Yennefer, can you hand me the splint?”
Without a word, she passed him the equipment and, listening to Coën’s questioning of the patient, began filling out the accident card. At least she could do that. She only occasionally glanced over, noting how efficiently her partner was stabilizing the man’s leg. She knew they could have done it much faster together.
When it came time to move the man onto the stretcher, another issue arose.
“Don’t let her touch me,” he snapped, pointing at Yennefer, his voice dripping with venom.”I can manage to sit on this thing myself.”
She shot him one of her signature cold stares but said nothing.
“Take it slow,” Coën said, steadying him by the arm and helping him toward the trailer. “Please lie down.”
“Are you joking?” the man barked, his voice filled with indignation. “I’m not dying. People are watching me, and…”
The rescuer cut him off, his voice now tinged with impatience.
“Listen. Either you lie down as I instruct, or you sign a document refusing help and stay here.”
Silence fell. The man looked at Coën, then at Yennefer, who subtly raised the partially completed document. The moment was satisfying, though she didn’t let it show. Her expression remained impassive.
“On the trailer, everyone lies down regardless of their injuries,” Coën explained firmly. “Especially since the terrain below is steep. I won’t take responsibility if you fall off… Sir.”
The man exhaled heavily, relenting, and began to turn around. Coën nodded at Yennefer, signaling that he could handle it on his own, and she gave him a slight, appreciative smile. Coën began securing the patient onto the stretcher, strapping him in. Despite the warnings, the man continued muttering under his breath, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of losing control.
Yennefer swiftly packed up the backpacks and stretcher cover, then handed them to Coën, who placed them on the trailer next to the patient. They were ready to go. She reached for the radio.
“Central, report for Yennefer?”
“I report”
“The patient is on the trailer. We’ll begin the descent shortly.”
“Understood. Ambulance is waiting at Forest Road No. 2.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Yennefer took the driver’s seat on the quad. She started the engine, the roar instantly drowning out the patient’s complaints. When she heard him voice his outrage at the sight of a woman driving, she shook her head in resignation and muttered a curse under her breath as she put on her helmet.
She turned on the sirens, further muffling his grumbles. Coën climbed onto the quad behind her, sitting backward to keep a close eye on the patient. He tapped her thigh lightly, signaling they were good to go.
Yennefer maneuvered the quad with exceptional care, fully aware of the responsibility resting on her shoulders. Still, her fingers instinctively gripped the handlebars tighter than usual, betraying a flicker of irritation she tried to suppress. As an experienced rescuer, she knew how to maintain professionalism even in the most demanding situations. Yet, deep down, she couldn’t entirely quell a quiet satisfaction at the thought that this particular journey might prove… educational for this man. She quickly dismissed the thought, focusing instead on the steep descent ahead.
The rest of the day was equally eventful. Yennefer returned from the second call shortly after 6:00 PM. After replenishing equipment and completing the necessary paperwork, she headed to the dinning hall to make herself a coffee. With a steaming mug in hand, she stepped out onto the terrace. The sun was dipping toward the deep blue peaks of the mountains on the horizon. Pontar lay at Triss's feet while she sat stretched out in a recliner, writing something slowly in her teal notebook.
Yennefer sat down on the steps, placing her mug beside her. Pontar and Triss both turned to look at her at the same time.
“How was your first day? Tired?” Yennefer asked first, catching the journalist’s gaze.
“A little, but I suspect it’s nothing compared to what you go through,” Triss replied, closed her notebook.
The woman stood and walked over, sitting on the step below Yennefer.
“This is what Sundays look like during summer. Nothing new,” Yennefer remarked, instinctively pulling her shoulder blades together. She rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her head in her hands, maintaining her upright posture.
“How is your article doing in the competition?” Yennefer asked after a moment.
“Results won't be out until the end of the month. The competition is huge. If I make it to the top twenty, that'll be a success.”
“Then how did you end up here?” Yennefer frowned. She'd thought maybe winning the competition had helped Triss get in as she wanted.
“Oh, I showed the article to my boss,” Triss smiled. “He thought I could write about MCRS. About your work, news reports from rescue operations, anything you would be willing to share. I finally have my specific assignment, specific topic,” she smiled. “I just needed permission. Philippa sorted everything out surprisingly quickly.”
“Not that surprising.” Yennefer's voice held a hint of cynicism. “She probably has her own plans on how to use it.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, and Yennefer felt herself starting to relax. She couldn't quite understand why.
She took another sip of her coffee. “How long will you be staying with us?”
Triss shrugged, but there was something in her voice that caught the rescuer’s attention.
“I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find out someone doesn’t want me here…”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, picking up on a note of uncertainty in her tone. She had similar thoughts earlier in the day, but she doubted anyone actually minded Triss being there, especially since Philippa had deemed the plan a good one.
“Didn’t you ask Philippa if anyone said anything?” she asked.
“I’ve hardly spoken to her. She’s really busy, probably more than you are.”
“She’s a workaholic. We only work when we have to.”
Triss chuckled softly.
“That man this morning surprised me, you know? The one who didn’t want you to help him,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I heard your voice on the radio, and I never would’ve guessed someone could react like that.”
“It usually goes the other way. Women often prefer to be examined by another woman.”
“Hmm, not surprised at all,” Triss interjected with a playful smile.
Yennefer shook her head in mock disapproval. She knew perfectly well what Triss meant, and wanted to answer her, to embarrass her, but she struggled to restrain herself. Pontar trotted over to her with his favorite toy in his mouth, drawing her attention away from Triss. She threw the toy far, and the dog took off after it.
“We try to match the rescuer’s gender to the patients when we can, but for minor injuries, it’s less of a concern. Usually, men don’t mind being treated by a woman,” Yennefer explained, keeping her eyes on the dog. “Older people, regardless of gender, prefer women. Kids in serious situations, too…”
“Interesting observation,” Triss mused for a moment before glancing at Yennefer. “Yen?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I go on my first call with you, if I really stay here?” she asked with a hesitant smile. “Let’s just say I also feel more comfortable with women rescuers.”
“I see what you're doing, Merigold.” Yennefer said with the characteristic dry amusement in her voice, a tone that proved easier than the professional distance she had been trying to maintain all day. “That's quite the strategy to secure a personal rescuer.”
“No, I'm not choosing a personal rescuer. Not at all.” Triss's cheeks blushed slightly. Despite this, the journalist gave her a beautiful smile that made Yennefer warm. She pushed the feeling aside, discovering a strange satisfaction in how easily she could make Triss blush. “But seriously, I spoke to Crach. He thinks it's a good idea, too. We've already been out in the field together, you know me a little, and...”
“No problem,” Yennefer cuts her off, trying to ignore how that smile affects her.
Triss beamed.
“Thank you.”
Yennefer watched her for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t.
Pontar returned, dropping his toy at her feet and placing a paw on her leg.
“What’s wrong, buddy? No one played with you today?” Her voice shifted completely, becoming soft and affectionate. Pontar let out a pleased rumble under her touch, tilting his head to offer his ear for scratching. “Sorry, I owe him some attention.”
“No problem,” Triss replied lightly. “You two can play. I’ll enjoy watching.”
“That sounds wrong coming from you, Merigold.”
“I don't know what you are talking about. Observation is my job,” Triss shot her a playful look. “Go on, play.”
Yennefer stood slowly and turned toward the dog. She tossed the toy into the air and watched as Pontar jumped high, catching it mid-flight. Pleased with himself, he quickly brought it back, dropping it at her feet and waiting expectantly. She smiled at him—she loved this dog. Then she remembered Triss’s presence and, feeling slightly tense, glanced in her direction. The journalist was bent over her phone, typing rapidly on the screen. She wasn’t watching.
Relief mixed with disappointment. Another strange combination.
Monday and Tuesday shifts were not as intense as Sunday’s. Each day involved just one call, both related to climbing accidents. As a result, Yennefer didn’t leave the station grounds. Generally speaking, the second rescue team, which she was part of, was most often dispatched for quick and straightforward missions—ones that didn’t require specialized equipment and could be resolved efficiently by the rescuers. Yennefer’s primary assignment was the search and rescue team, but such operations didn’t occur regularly. Each rescuer had two assignments: a primary one and a secondary one. In this region, with their limited personnel, this system worked very well.
She knew that Triss had spent the entire Monday morning in health and safety training with Roche and Philippa. As soon as she returned and sat with them at a table in the dining hall, Chireadan handed her a serving of take-out food. They always ordered meals during their day shifts, it was a much better option than cooking in the kitchen. This time they ordered an extra portion; it was a simple but meaningful gesture. Triss seemed to understand its significance. She smiled gratefully and thanked them sincerely.
When Roche joined them, Chireadan immediately seized the opportunity to joke.
“You could’ve given her a break, man,” he said with mock reproach, gesturing toward Triss.
“Philippa wrote the schedule, not me,” Roche replied in his usual tone, reaching for his food. “Besides, it’s standard training for anyone working at the station.”
Yennefer observed the group’s dynamics closely. Roche and Iorweth acted normally; they maintained a professional distance from Triss, but were neither unkind nor dismissive. Their professionalism was evident. They treated Triss with respect without faking enthusiasm.
Chireadan, in contrast, radiated excitement whenever Triss was around, which surprised no one. His openness and friendly demeanor always helped new team members integrate. Eskel, as usual, was a quiet source of calm and support, ready to lend a hand at any moment.
Syanna was delighted to have another woman on the team, while Cahir seemed genuinely interested in Triss’s work. The volunteers, who came and went sporadically, were polite but largely indifferent to the journalist’s presence.
She refrained from direct involvement, which was typical for her. Deep down, though, she felt that Triss’s presence might have a significant impact on the entire team. She had a hunch it would be a change for the better.
Yennefer spent her free time with Pontar on the agility track and playing with him, teaching him new tricks. She also managed to carve out a moment of solitude on a lounge chair to read a book. She went through the equipment in the medical bags and found an unused red helmet. Quickly, she printed a sticker with the name "Triss" and placed it on the left side—just as all the team members had. She put it back on the shelf next to her own helmet. She told herself it was because she cared about Triss’s safety. Nothing more. That was the story she stuck to. She sighed as she stood in the garage, glancing around for anything else to do. She was deliberately keeping herself busy. The pleasant warmth spreading through her every time she saw Triss forced her to do so. It was much easier to control this way.
Wednesday brought a slight change in the weather. The sky was overcast and sometimes there was a gentle, fleeting rain. The day passed quietly again. There was only one case—a sprained ankle handled by the volunteers. Triss spent a lot of time in the duty room. Yennefer spotted her there when she went to ask Crach if he wanted coffee.
“Do you want…” she started but quickly corrected herself upon seeing Triss sitting at the big desk with him. “Do you both want coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Crach said, tearing himself away from the keyboard and glancing at Triss. “Do you know how fast she types on that laptop? It’s like magic.”
“That’s not true, I type normally, Crach,” Triss laughed. “I’d like a coffee too, if it’s no trouble.”
A moment later, Yennefer brought them two coffees and sat with them briefly. Triss really did type quickly, at least compared to how laboriously Crach pecked at his keyboard.
“Bored, Yen?” he asked, glancing at her.
“No,” she replied with mock seriousness. “I’m working.”
“Can you head to the garage and take photos of the vehicle mileage logs?”
She stood up immediately.
“The quads too?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She went to the garage and reviewed all the trip logs, taking photos. The rest of the day passed just as monotonously. Even the weather outside was dull. Everything was dull… She craved adrenaline, something to wear her out. Maybe then her body would calm down.
Thursday felt empty without Triss, and it didn’t make Yennefer feel any better. She was more irritable and couldn't find her place. Later, she realized she wasn’t the only one sensing the strange emptiness. The difference was that Crach said it out loud. He grumbled to Pontar about having to sit alone again with no one to talk to. At least the dog stayed loyal, though it wouldn’t hurt if he talked back once in a while. On that point, Yennefer agreed. She, too, would like to know what Pontar was thinking.
This reaction from Crach made her realize that Triss spends much more time in the duty room than with Philippa. She wondered why the journalist avoided being around her girlfriend, but on the other hand…. she was working on an article about the duty officer. And she absolutely did not notice how Triss acted nervously when Philippa was around.
Thursday was sunny, with a few soft white clouds drifting across the blue sky. Yennefer admired the view while running on the treadmill in their gym. The gym was on the upper floor, and its windows faced the mountains. She would have preferred to running outdoors, but she didn’t have the time.
She didn’t realize someone had entered the room until Philippa sat on the bench by the window next to her. Yennefer took out her earbuds and looked over, surprised.
“Did something happen?” she asked, clearly caught off guard.
“I might not have mentioned during today’s briefing that tomorrow someone needs to go to a school demonstration…” Philippa said slowly, glancing around the spacious room.
If Yennefer didn’t know her so well, she might not have understood what this was about. But now, she could read between the lines, and with a smug satisfaction, she said aloud what Philippa was trying to hide.
“You forgot about something?” she said, giving her a sideways glance.
“Maybe, Yennefer,” Philippa sighed. She looked oddly tired. Philippa was beautiful—no one could deny that—but today, behind that beautiful face, there was a deep, ugly exhaustion.
Yennefer stepped off the treadmill and reached for her water bottle.
“What’s going on, Phil?”
They were friends, after all.
“I’ve got a ton of stupid political work to deal with…” she groaned. “I won’t bore you with it. Sheala’s in town, helping me…”
“Just helping?” Yennefer shot her a suggestive look.
“That too,” Philippa replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to sleep with your ex. She continued, “But she’s a lawyer, and she’s handling a lot. She’s probably staying in town for a while. But that’s not the point. It’s this damn demonstration at the school.”
“I can go with Pontar; the kids will love it,” Yennefer said sincerely. “I’d be happy to get out of here for a bit.”
Philippa gave a crooked smile, but her face quickly returned to its serious expression. She stood and adjusted her uniform.
“Who do you want to take with you?”
“Chireadan? I’ll pull him from the climbing team... Shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
“That school is about twenty miles from Montecalvo. If needed, we’ll dispatch you straight from the field.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“Ask him and let me know.”
“Just put his name down, and I’ll tell him he doesn’t have a choice,” Yennefer interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You look awful, Philippa.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Philippa replied with a forced smile. “I barely slept last night. Some of these procedures are insane. Even if there’s a loophole, it turns out people have connections so…”
She trailed off and rubbed her face with her hand.
“Are we still talking about the MCRS?” Yennefer asked, studying her closely.
“Yes, but I’ve got it under control. Don’t worry about it.”
“Has bringing Triss into the unit added more work for you?”
“What? No…” Philippa shook her head. “Triss handles the ‘media presence’ stuff for me, and she earns more because of it. It’s a win-win. We both benefit.” She stepped closer—far too close—and placed her hands on Yennefer’s shoulders. “Just keep an eye on her, okay?”
“I’m not her babysitter,” Yennefer snapped, perhaps a bit too sharply.
Philippa only tilted her head slightly, flashing a sly smile.
“I’ll have the paperwork ready for your school trip. Come by in about two hours, and it’ll all be set.” She smoothed invisible creases on Yennefer’s shirt sleeves.
“Stop stroking me… mommy,” Yennefer groaned, slipping out from under her hands. The glint in Philippa’s eyes revealed she was enjoying this game.
“Oh, Yenna, you’re so wonderful, you know that?” Philippa said, looking at her.
“I do.” Yennefer gestured toward the door. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Of course I do,” Philippa replied, heading toward the exit.
“If you need help, just let me know. I can distribute gear or whatever…” Yennefer called after her.
“I’ve thought about it,” Philippa admitted, her voice carrying a note of fatigue, but she didn’t look back. “But that’s just more paperwork to fill out.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if trying to brush off the weight of her responsibilities. “I’ll let you know.”
“Don’t be afraid to ask for help. It’s really not that hard.”
Now she sounded like her own daughter and her advice about asking for help. Philippa did not respond, Yennefer watched, as the woman walked away, still radiating her characteristic elegance. Yennefer wondered if it was that illusion of perfection that had caused her to misjudge Triss’s behavior and let her go home alone. If Philippa was so exhausted that she was making mistakes, maybe she really should take a break.
But something felt off. Philippa rarely allowed such visible signs of fatigue to show. What was happening within the unit’s structures that required her to bring in a lawyer?
Yennefer sighed and returned to her interrupted workout. She had never understood why Philippa had wanted so badly to become the unit commander. Fieldwork seemed much simpler and, paradoxically, less burdensome.
The next day, after the briefing, Yennefer and Chireadan immediately went to the garage to pack for the demonstration. Triss, curious as always, followed them, naturally accompanied by Pontar. Her presence, as usual, had an effect on Yennefer, but the rescuer felt that things were calmer that day. Maybe she was getting used to it, or perhaps it would pass eventually.
“Coming with us, Triss?” Chireadan suddenly asked while arranging mannequins on the bench inside the rescue vehicle. Triss stood in the doorway, watching him.
“I’d love to, but I can’t,” she replied somewhat sadly. “May I help you with anything?”
“Pass me the R1 backpack,” he said.
“Right…” Triss glanced toward the shelf piled high with bags and even more backpacks.
“What color is it?”
“Red,” Chireadan laughed.
Most of them were red. Yennefer felt her body instinctively pulling her toward Triss. She walked over to the large shelf and called out to the journalist, trying to keep her tone professional. That was her number one rule.
“It's easy, they're labeled. Look,” she said, standing beside her, painfully aware of every inch between them. “The red ones with yellow stripes are R1 rescue backpacks. The smaller versions are designed for cave rescue. The yellow one marked AED is a defibrillator, and the navy ones hold mechanical chest compression devices. The red and black ones with fewer reflectors are first aid kits. We have other bags too, but we mainly use backpacks.” She pointed to each item in turn, focusing on the equipment rather than Triss's proximity. So much for the inner peace she'd felt earlier that day.
“Grab the AED too!”
“There isn’t one on the vehicle?” Yennefer asked, surprised but grateful for the excuse to break the proximity.
“Damn, no. The last shift must’ve messed something up. We need to have a word with them.”
Yennefer sighed and reached for the green backpack from the shelf, while Triss handed over the R1. Their fingers brushed against each other.
“That’s why we usually start by checking the equipment,” Yennefer said, trying to maintain a professional tone. “It’s better to double-check and restock than to improvise during a mission.”
Once everything was ready for the demonstration, there was just under an hour left. Yennefer wasn’t sure what to do with herself. In the confined space of the garage, she still felt a little uneasy, and she didn’t entirely like it. She called Pontar over and began checking his vest, stroking him behind the ears. Boredom had become her worst enemy.
“Triss, are you going like that, or do you want to change?” Yennefer asked, not taking her eyes off the white shepherd.
“I can’t go, what are you talking about?” Triss replied, slightly irritated.
“You can. We sorted everything out,” Chireadan admitted, clearly pleased to no longer keep the secret.
“What?”
“You can stay if you like, but Philippa gave you permission to join us. It’s just a school demonstration, not a real mission,” Yennefer explained, glancing at her briefly. “Maybe this will make things easier.”
Triss’s eyes widened with excitement. Yennefer turned her gaze back to the dog, focusing her attention there.
“Really? Can I grab my camera?” Triss pointed toward the hallway door.
“Sure, and ask Crach on your way if we’re clear to go,” Chireadan added.
Triss didn’t wait for more. She nodded quickly and practically ran out of the garage.
Chireadan busied himself at the back of the off-road ambulance, checking the mannequins’ straps and adjusting the belts. Pontar jumped inside and sniffed around, while Yennefer leaned against the vehicle, observing him with her usual look of bored patience.
“You know, Triss is sexy,” Chireadan said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Too bad she’s not into men.”
Yennefer glanced at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. She was used to comments like this. Working with men meant they often saw little beyond… well, exactly that: attractive women. But this was about Triss, and that made Chireadan’s remark feel, though true, somewhat distasteful.
“Do you think you’d even have a chance with her?” she asked coolly, with a hint of irony.
“Oh, Yennefer.” He sighed theatrically, watching her with a grin. “You know how tense things can get here. In conditions like these, it’s easy to… get closer.”
“Mhm.” Yennefer crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him indifferently.
"You know, not everyone is as cold and unreachable as you," he teased with mock sorrow. "You broke my heart, remember?"
"If it still hurts, I can recommend a great therapist," she cut him off calmly. "Specializes in hopeless cases like yours."
Chireadan laughed, shaking his head. At that moment, Triss entered the garage with her camera bag slung over her shoulder.
“Crach said we can leave,” she said, slightly exhausted.
“Then welcome aboard,” Chireadan replied, holding the door of the off-roader and motioning inside with a dramatic flourish.
Yennefer let Triss go ahead, following her to leash Pontar. The journalist quickly sat on the bench, buckled her seatbelt, and looked at her.
“Thank you.”
Yennefer offered a slight smile and exited the vehicle, closing the back doors lightly. She walked around the car and sat in the commander’s seat up front, next to the driver, and reached for the radio.
“Central, this is Yennefer.”
“I'm here.”
“Reporting departure to the school for a demonstration. I’ll stay on standby.”
“Understood.”
Chireadan started the engine, briefly flashing the blue lights in the garage before turning them off. He grinned like a child and turned up the car radio. A pop hit blasted through the speakers, and the rescuer began singing along, off-key with every note.
“Chireadan…” Yennefer tried to raise her voice over the noise, leaning her head against the window. “Grow up.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped carelessly as he drove out of the garage.
In the back, Triss chuckled softly. Yennefer, though she didn’t show it outwardly, felt surprisingly at ease at that moment. This was exactly the kind of lightheartedness she occasionally needed, even if she’d never admit it.
Chapter 7
Notes:
Here we go again! The weather outside is anything but kind, and I can’t seem to recover from one cold before the next one hits me. I tried to translate this chapter, but to be honest, I had a hard time focusing and ended up doing it in bits and pieces. I hope I didn’t mess anything up. Enjoy the reading! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They drove the off-road vehicle onto the school grounds, where they were immediately greeted by a group of cheerful children and two teachers standing on the freshly cut grass by the soccer field. When Chireadan switched on the vehicle’s distinctive blue lights, the reaction was immediate. A few boys couldn’t contain their excitement and began jumping up and down, pointing enthusiastically in their direction.
“We’re shining like stars,” Chireadan joked as he parked and stepped out of the vehicle.
Yennefer also got out quickly, surveying the excited faces with a faint smile. She adjusted her uniform before walking toward the teachers who were coming to greet them.
“Good morning,” Yennefer said, extending her hand. “I’m Yennefer, and this is Chireadan.”
“Good morning, we’re so glad you could make it!” the taller teacher replied warmly, shaking their hands. “I’m Anna.”
“And I’m Natalia,” added the second teacher, also shaking hands. “We’re thrilled this demonstration could be arranged. The kids have been excited for it all week.”
“We’re glad to be here, and thank you for the invitation,” Yennefer replied. Then, with a brief nod, she added, “We also have a journalist with us. Ms. Merigold is documenting our work. If you have any concerns about photos or material, please let us know.”
“Triss Merigold?” one of the teachers asked.
Triss had quietly approached and now stood beside Yennefer, offering a polite smile.
“Yes, that’s me. It’s lovely to see you again,” Triss said warmly.
“And you as well.”
The teachers greeted her with familiar smiles, one even patting her on the shoulder.
Yennefer observed this exchange, unable to suppress a flicker of jealousy. Triss seemed to have a natural gift for winning people over, leaving every conversation with smiles and warmth, as if she cast some invisible charm over those around her.
“I often cover sports events at this school,” Triss explained, noticing Yennefer’s gaze.
“That explains a lot,” Yennefer replied, raising a brow slightly. Turning back to the teachers, she asked, “Can we set up our equipment here? Somewhere where everyone can get a good view?”
“Of course, the whole field is yours,” Natalia replied.
The teachers returned to the children, giving the rescue team room to work. Triss followed them, blending effortlessly into the school environment. Yennefer watched her for a moment, then squared her shoulders and returned her focus to the task at hand. She stepped into the back of the vehicle, where Pontar lay calmly, his eyes tracking her every move.
“Stay put, Pontar,” she said with a half-smile. “You’re the star of the show, but you’ve got to wait for your turn.” She unhooked his leash but left him in the vehicle to avoid distracting the children.
She grabbed a medical bag and CPR manikins, passing the bags with ropes and carabiners to Chireadan. As she exited the vehicle, she noticed Triss deep in conversation with the teachers again, their laughter ringing out. It was convenient, really. Triss was unintentionally handling all the teacher interaction, leaving Yennefer free to focus on the kids.
Yennefer and Chireadan set up three manikins: one adult, one child, and one infant. The children hung back initially, hesitant and shy. But when Yennefer began calmly explaining the basics of resuscitation, a few tentative hands rose in the air.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said gently to a small girl who was the first to approach the dummy. “I’ll show you how to position your hands correctly.”
Meanwhile, Chireadan demonstrated the technique for compressing an infant’s chest, patiently repeating the movements as each child tried to mimic him. His calm demeanor and lighthearted jokes soon put even the shyest kids at ease.
Triss was busy taking photos, occasionally leaning over Yennefer's shoulder to capture different angles. Despite her presence, she managed not to interrupt the rescue workers or distract the children. It was as if her role naturally fit into the scene, completing the picture.
A few moments later, once all the children had practiced chest compressions on the dummies, Chireadan grabbed the cave stretcher lying near the vehicle.
“And now, we'll show you something special!” he announced enthusiastically, placing the stretcher in front of the group. “Do you know what this is?”
“A stretcher?” ventured a girl with two braids, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
“That's right, but these aren't ordinary stretchers,” Chireadan explained, unfolding the stretcher on the ground. “These are cave stretchers, specially designed for transporting injured people in tough conditions. See these straps?” He pointed to the harnesses inside. “They secure the patient so they're safe in any position: horizontal, vertical, and even…” he paused dramatically, casting a meaningful look at the teachers, “upside down.”
“Really?” the kids exclaimed in unison, their faces lighting up with curiosity.
“Really, but we won't be demonstrating that today. We don't want to give your teachers a heart attack,” Yennefer added, glancing playfully at Anna and Natalia, who visibly relaxed.
Chireadan scanned the group. “Who wants to be our injured person? We need someone tall enough to fit perfectly in the harness.”
Several hands shot up, but the tallest boy with curly hair waved so vigorously he almost hit his classmate in the head. “Me! Me!” he called out.
“Great, come here,” Chireadan invited him over. “Lie down in the center.”
The boy settled onto the stretcher, and Yennefer and Chireadan deftly began strapping him in, explaining each step to the children.
“See? Thanks to these straps and the additional material, your friend is now completely secured,” Yennefer explained, fastening the last buckle. “We can lift him and safely transport him to another location.”
“Try it!” several kids shouted at once.
Carefully, Chireadan and Yennefer lifted the stretcher into an upright position. The boy inside giggled, prompting the rest of the children to burst into laughter.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Chireadan said, looking at the group. “Now imagine you had to rescue someone from a deep crevice. This is how we'd transport them.”
“What if you turned him upside down?” the girl with braids asked.
“He still wouldn't fall out,” Chireadan assured her. “But we promised the teachers we wouldn't, didn't we?”
After the demonstration, they freed the boy from the harnesses, and Chireadan pulled out some ropes to show the children a few basic knots. Each child got a chance to try tying a figure-eight knot, and he patiently corrected their mistakes and explained everything thoroughly.
Yennefer used the brief moment of calm to organize the remaining equipment. She loaded the bags and manikins into the vehicle, secured everything with straps to prevent it from shifting during the drive, and then took a deep breath, savoring a few seconds of silence. She took a sip of water from her bottle and instinctively glanced at Pontar, who was still waiting in the car, watching her intently.
“Your turn is coming,” she said.
The dog tilted his head slightly, lifting his muzzle as if responding in his characteristic way.
“Wait for my signal,” she added with a smile, giving him a gentle pat on the head.
Returning to the field, Yennefer found Chireadan folding the stretcher. Meanwhile, she demonstrated to the children how to properly coil ropes and store them in special bags. Every child wanted to try, and she praised their efforts, even if not everything turned out perfectly.
Once all the equipment was packed, Yennefer stood before the group of children and teachers, who eagerly awaited the next attraction. She placed her hands on her hips, scanning the expectant faces.
“Finally, I'd like to introduce you to another team member,” she began, her tone full of mystery. “He works with me in the toughest conditions and is excellent at what he does.”
The children looked at her with a mix of surprise and intrigue. At last, Yennefer gave a soft whistle, and from the open door of the vehicle, a white shepherd dog in a red rescue vest leapt out. The dog immediately focused on Yennefer, sitting straight and tall with his back to the children, entirely ignoring the surrounding noise.
“Oh, he's so beautiful!” one girl exclaimed, and the other children began calling out to the dog, waving their hands.
“Please keep your voices down. The dog might get scared,” one teacher intervened, but Yennefer quickly reassured her.
“Don't worry. If he could be distracted by noise, he wouldn’t be here. Feel free to call him, make noise, or try to get his attention,” she encouraged, glancing at the children with a challenging smile. “But he only listens to me.”
“What's his name?” a girl from the back of the group asked.
“Pontar,” Yennefer replied, smiling at the dog.
The children tried everything they could think of to capture the dog's attention. Just as Yennefer allowed. They called his name, clapping, and making noise. Yet Pontar remained focused, following Yennefer’s commands with near-military precision: sitting, lying down, weaving through her legs, and then resuming his watchful stance. Although Yennefer noticed a bit of extra energy in his movements, she knew it was from being cooped up in the car. He was eager to perform.
“Let’s try a little test,” Yennefer said. “Even if there are familiar people nearby, when we’re on the job, he will only listen to me unless I give him a specific signal.” She scanned the crowd and locked eyes with Triss. “Triss, can you help us?”
Triss immediately stepped forward, smiling with curiosity.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked, standing beside Yennefer.
“Step back a few paces and try calling him,” Yennefer said, keeping her gaze fixed on Pontar.
“Pontar, come here!” Triss called softly as she backed away. She crouched down, extending her arms toward the dog.
Pontar flicked his ears and glanced fleetingly at Triss, but did not even move his head. The children giggled quietly, and Yennefer felt a surge of relief, although she noticed a faint hesitation in the dog's eyes, but no one else could catch it.
“Come on, Pontar! Here, boy!” Triss called a few more times, but the dog didn’t move.
“See?” Yennefer addressed the children. “But with just one gesture…” She raised her hand, made a slight motion, and whispered, “Free.”
Pontar immediately sprang to his feet and dashed toward Triss, who was still crouched down. He pressed his body against her, demanding pets, causing the children to burst into laughter. Triss wobbled and ended up sitting on the grass, laughing as she petted the dog.
“He might look adorable, and he is,” Yennefer said, approaching Pontar. “But you must remember that when he’s working, you can’t distract him. If you see a service dog with a handler, no matter what their task is, you should never approach or try to pet the dog. They, like us, need to stay focused on their job.”
The children nodded solemnly, their eyes still filled with admiration for the dog. Triss stood up, brushing grass off her pants, and glanced at Yennefer. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and her face lit up with a genuine smile.
“I know he loves me, but it stings a little how quickly he goes back to you,” Triss said with feigned jealousy, pointing at Pontar, who was crunching on a treat Yennefer had discreetly handed him.
“Well, it’s hard to compete with the one who feeds him,” Yennefer replied with a faint smile.
At the end of the demonstration, the rescuers invited the children and teachers closer to the vehicle. Pontar roamed calmly, sniffing every corner but staying relatively close to Yennefer. Chireadan swung the back doors of the truck wide open, motioning for the kids to come closer.
“It’s essentially a modified pickup truck,” he began to explain. “In the front, we have seats for the driver and team leader, and the back serves as our mobile base. Here in the middle, you see special rails and mounts for securing stretchers.”
Yennefer gestured toward the interior, where the mounts stood out against the metal floor.
“We can safely transport an injured person in a lying position, even in rough terrain. The benches on the sides can hold either us or additional equipment. And as you can see,” she pointed upward, “the stretchers and spine board are stored on the ceiling when not in use, so they don’t take up space.”
The kids eagerly explored the vehicle, carefully touching the equipment and examining every detail with awe. A few of them asked questions, and Chireadan answered enthusiastically, explaining how the GPS system worked and why every tool had its designated spot.
At the end, Triss approached the group with her camera in hand.
“How about we take a group photo?” she suggested.
Everyone quickly gathered in front of the truck. Pontar sat proudly in the center, his red vest and white fur standing out against the group. Yennefer noticed the kids were tempted to pet the dog, but none of them did, clearly respecting her earlier words, though they kept glancing at her, silently asking for permission.
One girl in particular caught Yennefer’s attention. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t muster the courage. Finally, as the rescuers prepared to leave, the girl couldn’t hold back and approached Yennefer.
“Excuse me, could I... could I maybe take a picture with Pontar?” she stammered, looking down at the ground. “My grandma has a Swiss shepherd, and... I really love dogs.”
Her face flushed with embarrassment, but the courage she’d summoned impressed Yennefer. She smiled warmly and nodded.
“Come here,” Yennefer said, crouching down as Pontar sat before her, seemingly understanding what was happening.
The girl approached cautiously, her body tense, but Yennefer smiled reassuringly and placed a hand on her shoulder to give her a little support. Triss, camera in hand, watched them, and Yennefer caught a fleeting softness in her gaze. It lasted only a second before she lifted the camera and took the picture.
“You can pet him,” Yennefer said gently, looking at the girl.
She gave Pontar a subtle signal, and the dog calmly moved his head closer to the child. The girl reached out and stroked his snout carefully, her touch light and cautious. After a moment, she withdrew her hand, as if not wanting to overstep her welcome.
“Thank you,” she said softly, looking up at Yennefer with gratitude before returning to the group.
The rescuers bid a heartfelt farewell to the children and teachers. Triss climbed into the back of the truck first, with Pontar following her without hesitation, sitting neatly beside her. Yennefer approached the vehicle but caught Triss’s gaze and paused for a moment.
“I'll attach him to the leash, don’t worry,” Triss said with a smile, turning to the dog. Yennefer bit her lip, closed the door, and headed for the front seat. She disliked entrusting Pontar’s care to anyone else, but it was just a matter of securing him to the leash—nothing complicated.
“All set?” Chireadan asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“All set,” Yennefer confirmed, glancing back. Triss gave her a thumbs-up to show everything was fine on her end. Chireadan started the engine, and Yennefer grabbed the radio.
“Central, this is Yennefer. ”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve finished the school demonstration and are heading back to base.”
“Roger.”
As they pulled away, Chireadan briefly turned on the sirens and flashing lights, eliciting another wave of excitement from the kids. Yennefer glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing the children still gathered by the field, waving their hands with wide smiles.
The rest of the day passed quietly, with the rescuers taking care of themselves and calm reigning in the station. In the evening, Yennefer found refuge at a small table in the corner of the dinning hall. She sat there with relief, enjoying a moment of solitude. Slowly, she ate the salad she had prepared earlier, browsing through messages on her phone.
Suddenly, the door swung open with a soft thud, and Triss stormed into the room like a whirlwind. Her presence immediately filled the space, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere.
“Here you are!” she exclaimed, almost cheerfully, and without ceremony sat down next to Yennefer, placing her laptop and notebook in front of her. “I need to show you something.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she opened the laptop lid. “By the way, enjoy your meal.”
“Thanks,” Yennefer muttered, shifting her gaze to the notebook in that unique sea color. “Why do you take notes by hand?” she asked out of curiosity, as she had been wondering about this before.
Triss looked at her with a slight surprise, as if the question had thrown her off rhythm.
“It’s easier for me to organize my thoughts this way,” she replied after a moment. Her hand instinctively reached for the notebook, gently gliding over the cover. “I write everything here: thoughts, ideas, observations.” She smiled slightly, adding, “There are also shopping lists, song lyrics, little sketches... Basically, everything that comes to mind. I jot it down, and I feel free. The thoughts stop chasing me. If it weren’t for this, I’d probably go crazy on my own,” she added with amusement.
Yennefer nodded. She understood it in a way, though she doubted she could organize her chaotic mind this way.
“My computer files are always a mess,” Triss chuckled softly. “But here, on paper, everything has its place. I remember where I wrote what down. Then I transcribe the most important things from my notes and create a finished text from them. It works best.”
A brief silence fell, fortunately not the awkward kind. Yennefer finished her salad while Triss continued browsing something on the laptop, searching for the right files.
“I finally synced the photos from this week and wanted to show you the ones from today’s shoot. I selected a few for the article, but I need your opinion,” Triss announced at last, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Really?” Yennefer looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
Honestly, she hadn’t expected Triss to care about her opinion.
“Yes,” Triss confirmed enthusiastically, moving the laptop towards Yennefer. “I chose sixteen photos, though I could add more. Take a look and judge.”
Yennefer began clicking through the images, reviewing each shot. Triss leaned closer, almost touching her shoulder with her arm. Her warm voice was joyful as she commented on each photo. After a week of working with her, Yennefer knew that Triss only sat in silence when she was eating, had headphones on, or was typing something on the computer.
“Oh, wait!” Triss suddenly grabbed her hand, stopping her on one of the shots. “I don’t know if I should include this photo with the little girl in the article. Maybe it’s better to send it to her teacher so she can pass it on to her mom?”
Yennefer looked at the screen. The photo was beautiful and taken especially for that girl.
“I probably wouldn’t add it,” she said after a moment’s thought. “It’s very personal. The girl approached it with real emotion.”
“That's what I thought. But you're in the photo, so I wanted to make sure.” Triss quickly slid the laptop towards her, slightly turning it but still staying close to Yennefer. “I have one more question. Can I post this on my Instagram? I took this picture of him at the beginning of the week, and I can't stop looking at it.”
Triss clicked an icon, and Pontar's photo appeared on the screen. The dog lay on perfectly green grass that contrasted with his white fur and dark, shiny eyes. Besides his white coat, black nose, and eyes, the only color in the photo was that shade of green. The focus was perfectly captured on his eyes; each long eyelash was clear and sharp, while the rest of the frame was softly blurred, becoming just a backdrop. There was something about the photo that made Yennefer feel calmer.
“I don't know if I should post his pictures,” Triss began, breaking the silence. “But I'd like to mention that I'm working with you guys now and...” She abruptly stopped, turning her head. Their eyes met, and Yennefer saw something uncertain in Triss's gaze. “If you don't want me to, just say so. I won't be offended.”
“You can,” Yennefer replied calmly, almost without thinking. After a moment, she added, “This photo is beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Triss smiled with relief, sinking into the back of her chair. She took her phone out of her pocket and began swiping through the screen with her finger. “Do you have Instagram?”
“I do, but I don't use it,” Yennefer responded, returning her gaze to her own phone screen, trying to occupy her hands and mind.
Triss gave her a short, penetrating look.
“What's your name?”
Yennefer hesitated. She knew that if Triss really insisted, she would find out anyway. Philippa was definitely their mutual follower. Maybe it was better to just give the information right away instead of playing subtle and pointless avoidance?
“December morning, with a dot in between.”
“Why like that?” Triss asked, not taking her eyes off the phone.
“It sounds nice.”
“Got you!” Triss announced happily, though her enthusiasm quickly faded. She furrowed her brows and looked at the profile. “Seriously? You only have one photo? And your bio says... 'Rescue Dog Handler'? Really? That's your peak creativity?”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, her gaze drifting to her phone screen, which had just displayed a notification about a new follower.
“Sorry, but does Miss Merigold have a problem with this?” she asked sarcastically, not hiding a hint of amusement.
“It's okay, but...” Triss hesitated, then pointed to the screen. “This photo of Pontar is beautiful! Did you take it yourself? With your phone?”
This time, Yennefer looked at Triss. Her question sounded sincere, and there was a hint of admiration in her voice.
“Yes, sometimes I take photos. Even during missions when there's an opportunity,” she replied as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “If I had an Instagram account, it would mainly feature photos of Pontar.”
“I'd be your most dedicated follower!” Triss said with a smile.
“I don't doubt it.” Yennefer chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on the journalist's face for a moment.
Triss returned her attention to the photo on her phone, zooming in with her fingers.
“Will you ever show me that place? The one where you took this photo?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the screen. “You're missing from this picture. I'd take a picture of you two together.”
“Pontar has enough charm on his own,” Yennefer replied quickly, trying to brush off the topic.
“I know, but...” Triss hesitated, biting her lip. Her voice became softer and quieter. “You know, December mornings, even though they can be chilly, have their own charm.”
Yennefer froze. She watched Triss closely, noting every detail: the slight blush on her cheeks, the subtle tension in her shoulders, how she avoided her gaze. Something about the way Triss bit her lip seemed suspicious to Yennefer. Was it just a casual comment related to her profile, or something more? She preferred not to think about it. She felt that what Triss had said was sincere and genuine, and that slightly scared her.
She didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. She took a deep breath, her mind swirling with thoughts she wasn't ready, or perhaps couldn't, to name. So She remained silent, hoping the silence would mask the chaos inside her and that the awkward, tense moment would pass on its own.
That evening, she was already lying in bed when she heard a notification. She had been tagged in a photo by Triss.Merigold. She opened Instagram with a mix of curiosity and slight concern. The photo showed Pontar, exactly the one she had seen earlier at the station. Below it was a long caption. Triss was describing her first impressions of working with MCRS. The emotions she felt during her stay and the admiration she had for the rescue team. Yennefer read the text with interest, picking up on the characteristic writing style unique to Triss.
At the end, Triss thanked all the rescuers for their support, especially those “in the photo,” adding two heart emojis at the end of her sentence—one white and one black. Yennefer let out a loud breath, feeling a slight tightness in her chest. She locked her phone screen, trying to push away the persistent thoughts revolving around Triss. Time to sleep, she thought, more for herself than out of conviction. Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant a lot of work.
Saturday was almost as dynamic as Sunday, which kicked off the week of day shifts. Fortunately, there were no demanding tourists who got themselves into trouble and then blamed the whole world and the rescuers. However, the day still had its challenges.
First, Yennefer and Coën responded to a report about a teenager bitten by a viper. The call was serious because each case required a quick reaction. The boy was conscious when handed over to the paramedics, which was the best-case scenario they could hope for. Yennefer knew that their role in such situations was limited—they could only apply a bandage, immobilize the limb, and monitor the victim's vital signs during transport to the ambulance.
The next call was completely different, exciting for both Yennefer and Pontar. Finally, her shepherd dog could engage in what he was trained for. This time, the report came from a terrified mother who had left her 12-year-old son on the trail to go back to the car for something. When she returned, the boy was gone. She panicked and called MCRS for help.
The search team arrived on the scene within fifteen minutes. Yennefer immediately headed up the mountain with Pontar. They were accompanied by Dorien, a young rescuer who was increasingly fascinated by working with dogs. Yennefer saw potential in him and watched his dedication with satisfaction.
Pontar quickly picked up the trail, confidently leading them toward the summit. The boy turned out to be more resourceful than they thought. He decided to climb the mountain and wait for his mother there. However, along the way, someone noticed that the child had no guardian. Concerned tourists called MCRS, and Crach quickly confirmed over the radio that the boy had decided to continue his hike alone. The rescuers, along with the mother, quickly reached him and two adults who had spotted him. They were parents themselves, and the lonely boy in the mountains immediately caught their attention.
Even though the story ended well, Yennefer didn't envy the mother. She was well aware of how furious she would be if Ciri did something similar. Unlike that boy, Ciri rarely forgot to take her phone with her. However, Yennefer preferred not to dwell on these thoughts, especially now, after a long day when she was already slightly tired.
On Monday, with the mix of miracle and a bit of yelling, Yennefer managed to get Ciri out of the house and off to school. It was the last week before summer vacation, and Ciri stubbornly insisted that going to school was pointless. Yennefer, however, didn’t share her opinion.
Midweek, they went to a furniture store. Though, calling the place a ‘store’ seemed like an understatement. The warehouse was massive, and besides furniture, it housed everything one could imagine for a home. Yennefer planned to focus solely on the bedroom section, but she knew full well that Ciri wouldn’t let that happen. Letting her indulge in shopping was the price she had to pay for her help. After all, she had asked her to come, so now was no time for scolding or complaining, right?
Even in the parking lot, Yennefer already felt overwhelmed. The crowd was enormous, and finding a parking spot was nearly impossible. Inside, it wasn’t any better—noise, jostling, and chaos. Pontar had stayed at home, and for the first time, Yennefer envied her dog.
Fortunately, Ciri was in her element. She navigated the store with energy and confidence, picking out items and occasionally asking Yennefer's opinion. Yennefer kept a mental tally of costs to avoid any checkout surprises. As time passed, the initially exhausting shopping trip became unexpectedly exciting. With each item they selected, Yennefer's vision of her renovated bedroom grew clearer. To her delight, Ciri's ideas were genuinely impressive.
They finally reached the curtain wall—an enormous display of fabrics and colors. Yennefer leaned against the cart with a sigh, watching Ciri move between the rows, touching fabrics, stretching them, and testing their weight.
“Mom, do you want violet curtains too? They could work if we add some greenery and flowers, but they'd need to be dark. I know you wanted a bright room, but it's starting to feel too bland. Unless... are you even listening to me?”
Yennefer wasn't listening. Her attention had been captured by curtains in a deep, cornflower blue shade. They were perfect. The color—not quite blue, shimmering faintly with silver—reminded her of Triss's eyes. She'd thought the paint at the building store matched her eyes, but no. That paint lacked this ethereal flash, this shimmer the curtains possessed. They had the same allure she noticed every time Triss smiled. Though she'd planned to avoid Triss at the station, she found herself stealing glances whenever she was nearby. That color… she wouldn't mistake it for anything else.
She wanted those curtains. She wanted that color in her life.
“Mom?” Ciri's voice and a gentle nudge snapped her out of her thoughts.
“Yes?” Yennefer looked at her daughter, who was eyeing her suspiciously.
“Do you prefer blue?”
“What?” Yennefer blinked a few times, reluctantly returning to reality.
“Do you want the violet curtains or the blue ones?”
“Violet…” she answered instinctively, but her gaze drifted back to the cornflower blue ones.
Ciri, of course, noticed.
“So these are the ones you like?” she asked, stepping up to the display. She grabbed one of the curtains, and the fabric shimmered even more under the light. Yennefer let out a breath and nodded.
“It's a strange combination,” Ciri mused, holding the fabric up to a sample of the bedroom wall color. Suddenly, her face lit up with a wide smile. “Wow! Perfect! Unexpected but beautiful. These will bring life to the room. We're getting them!”
Yennefer didn't have the energy to argue. In the end, Ciri was right... The curtains fit. Almost too well.
On the day the school year ended, the tension at home was palpable. Neither Yennefer nor Ciri were fans of formal events that required dresses and fancy shoes. Yennefer stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. The fitted black dress accentuated her figure, while soft waves falling over her shoulders added a touch of lightness. She wore subtle makeup that enhanced her natural beauty. A black purse with a thin strap hung over her shoulder.
“Ciri, hurry!” she called out, glancing anxiously between her watch and the staircase.
Moments later, Ciri descended slowly, her face full of resignation. She wore a white shirt and tailored brown trousers. Her hair was tied high in a ponytail that cascaded down her back. She refused to even consider wearing a dress, and Yennefer, understanding her all too well, didn't bother trying to argue. The only thing that seemed improper with her outfit was the oversized backpack.
“Please, leave the backpack…” Yennefer said, striving to keep her calm.
“No. I'm not staying in these clothes. I'll change right after the ceremony,” Ciri replied, sitting on the stairs and slipping on white sneakers.
“Ciri, we'll come straight back home.”
“But we were supposed to go into town!” Ciri burst out.
“Can we talk normally?” Yennefer asked, barely holding her own frustration in check. “Do you think I want to go to this? After the ceremony, we'll come back to change and then head to town.”
“It's a waste of time.”
“And what exactly do you plan to do in town all morning? The party doesn't start until two.” Yennefer crossed her arms, waiting expectantly.
“We could get ice cream.”
“And eat it for four hours…” Yennefer sighed, tilting her head. “Besides, I don't want to spend all day in this dress. We'll come back, change, and…”
“Cerys is bringing her backpack too. She asked me to bring mine so she doesn't look silly...” Ciri finally admitted, standing in front of her with the backpack in hand.
Yennefer sighed, extending her hand to adjust the collar of Ciri's shirt. She couldn't help but admire her daughter's determination to fight for what mattered to her. It reminded her of someone... Yennefer's expression softened. She gently stroked Ciri's cheek, tickling her slightly behind the ear in the process. Ciri couldn't help but smile.
“Call Cerys. Tell her to leave everything at home, and after the ceremony, we'll head over to her place.”
“Are you really going to drive that much?”
“Yes. We'll have plenty of time before two. No need to rush.”
Ciri studied her for a moment, then sighed and put down her backpack. She pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“Fine, I'll try. Maybe they haven't left the house yet,” she said before brushing past Yennefer and heading outside toward the car.
Yennefer took one last glance at her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted her hair and walked out the door. Her eyes lingered on the backpack left in the hallway before she closed the door behind her, locking it with a turn of the key.
Thankfully, the ceremony didn't last long. Yennefer suspected the teachers were as eager to start their summer break as the students. After a brief presentation, the students and parents dispersed to classrooms where teachers handed out certificates, wished everyone a great vacation, and promptly “released” them into freedom. What followed was chaos Yennefer hadn't anticipated. It felt like every teacher in the school had decided to end their meeting at the same moment.
The loud crowd filled the hallways, and getting through it felt like wading through a rushing river. People kept brushing against her bare shoulders or bumping her with their elbows, and she had to resist the urge to lose her patience. Ciri, as usual in such situations, seemed completely unfazed, a reaction that evoked both admiration and frustration in Yennefer. When they finally reached the car, Yennefer exhaled with relief, feeling the tension slowly dissipate.
At the girls' special request, she turned the music up loud while still parked at the school. Ciri and Cerys rolled down the windows, waving to a few friends and singing their favorite songs at the top of their lungs. Yennefer smirked to herself. The sight always tugged at her heart. Childhood had its charms, even with the endless requests, wild ideas, complaints, and arguments.
They arrived at Cerys's house in under ten minutes. The girl had packed more than she originally planned, which came as no surprise to Yennefer. She greeted Crach, who, as usual, observed the situation with amusement, nodding as he saw how much his daughter deemed necessary for one night at her friend's house.
“Are you sure it's okay for me to take them to the concert tonight?” Yennefer asked, wanting to double-check everything was alright.
Crach patted her shoulder with a smile.
“I feel like Cerys is safer when she's with you than with me.”
Yennefer simply nodded, feeling the girl's gaze on her. There was something more in it than just simple gratitude.
After returning home, Ciri and Cerys dashed upstairs to change and get ready for the concert. Yennefer, knowing she had a long evening ahead, decided to prepare in her own way. Jaskier was a young artist whose concerts drew crowds of excited teenagers, which meant her patience and energy would once again be put to the test.
She took Pontar for a long walk, savoring the quiet and soaking in the peace before the impending chaos. Once back, she took a quick shower and put on a loose white linen shirt—perfect for the summer heat—frayed shorts, and comfortable black shoes with thick soles that gave her a slight height boost and elongated her legs. Her hair still fell in soft waves, and the new style made her feel exceptionally confident.
The girls came downstairs dressed up in their own way, and Yennefer didn't say a word. Their outfits were age-appropriate, and that was all that mattered. She fastened a small belt bag around her waist, a gift from Ciri, and tucked in her wallet, phone, and car keys. After saying goodbye to Pontar, who briefly lifted his head before resuming his nap, they headed out.
The event was being held at the city stadium, featuring Jaskier along with lesser-known bands. Around the stadium, stalls selling food, souvenirs, and trinkets were set up, attracting kids like magnets. Yennefer knew that just browsing through all the stands would take at least an hour, and if the girls got hungry—even longer.
Finding a parking spot took more time than she anticipated, but eventually, she managed. She handed both girls equal amounts of cash, not wanting to deal with constant requests for money and hoping that a limited budget would make them think twice before spending. Cerys accepted the cash with visible hesitation, shaking her head.
“This is for both of you. I want you to have the same amount,” Yennefer said with a smile. Seeing her reluctance, she added gently: “You're my second daughter, aren't you?”
Cerys stared at her for a moment before wrapping her in a tight hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly.
Yennefer returned the embrace, lightly stroking her back. Watching the two girls, full of energy and pure joy, reminded her why, despite the exhaustion and chaos, she was always willing to take them to events like this.
The three of them headed toward the stage, with Ciri practically bouncing with excitement. She hoped they might spot Jaskier before the concert began. Yennefer, fully aware of how unlikely it was for the main star to appear long before the performance, chose not to dampen her enthusiasm. Sliding on her sunglasses, she focused instead on observing the technical setup of the event.
She noticed fire trucks on standby and police officers positioned at strategic points. She was even certain she had spotted undercover agents dressed in plain clothes, trying to blend into the crowd while clearly keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. Her mind instinctively analyzed the layout and potential risks — a habit ingrained from her rescue work.
Once they finished checking out the stage, Ciri and Cerys darted off toward the vendor stalls, promising Yennefer they wouldn't get lost in the crowd.
“Stay a few steps behind us, Mom, so no one laughs,” Ciri quipped with a wide grin.
Yennefer rolled her eyes but nodded.
“Fine, but I want to keep you in sight.”
Time passed slowly, though for the girls, it seemed to be endless fun. They stopped at almost every stall, squeezing between other people to examine every possible trinket. Yennefer followed behind at a careful distance, like a shadow. It was more tiring than she'd expected, but she was glad Ciri's white hair stood out in the crowd, making it almost impossible to lose sight of them. She smirked to herself, realizing how much this trailing after the girls reminded her of wandering through the woods, keeping an eye on Pontar.
She paused for a moment at a honey stall and bought two small jars. She had always loved the taste of real honey and preferred buying it from places like this rather than big supermarkets. When the girls reappeared beside her, each triumphantly held a beeswax candle shaped like a dog.
“It's Pontar!” Cerys laughed, handing Yennefer her candle.
Yennefer paid for the candles and carefully tucked them into a paper bag before following the girls again. Cerys possessed a calmness and gentleness that perfectly balanced Ciri's boundless energy. Together, they complemented each other beautifully.
She stopped again, this time at a stall selling handmade crochet and knitted items. She had a soft spot for such crafts — colorful shawls, soft blankets, and decorative pillows. They didn't match her style, but their precision and intricate details fascinated her. For a moment, she turned over a small, patterned green shawl in her hands. It was stunning, though it didn't suit her at all.
“Mom, look!” Ciri's voice snapped Yennefer out of her thoughts. The girl enthusiastically pointed at a black bag with a wide strap, made from thick cotton cord. It was simple, black, and... practical.
Yennefer glanced at the paper bag in her hand and decided she didn't want to carry it around any longer. She bought the bag, slung it over her shoulder, and tucked her earlier purchases inside. Surprisingly, it was light and comfortable. When Ciri came close enough, she playfully tickled the back of her neck.
“Thanks, my beautiful one.”
Ciri giggled and ran back to Cerys, who was already captivated by another stall.
Despite the crowd and noise, Yennefer felt unexpectedly at ease. The girls, though brimming with excitement and energy, stayed within her line of sight, allowing her to remain calm. She also appreciated the simplicity of her purchases. The honey and the bag. These ordinary items brought her a peculiar, almost soothing satisfaction.
“Can we get bubble tea?” Ciri asked, grabbing her hand and pointing toward a line.
“We'll be standing there for at least fifteen minutes,” Yennefer estimated, eyeing the crowd at the stall.
“That's fine, we'll wait,” Cerys replied with a smile.
“If that’s what you want, I don’t see a problem,” Yennefer said, and the girls immediately dashed off to claim a spot in the queue.
Yennefer scanned the area, trying to step out of the way of the bustling crowd circling the stalls. She moved toward the barriers separating the vendor area from the audience zone and leaned against them, watching the girls in line. Their laughter and carefree demeanor were almost mesmerizing. She allowed herself a moment to forget about the commotion around her. She removed her sunglasses, ran her fingers through her hair, and sighed. She was always on high alert, her body conditioned to act and respond. But now, she felt herself gradually relaxing. The sun hung high in the sky, despite the late afternoon hour. The sweltering day seemed like a perfect start to the summer break. Despite the heat, she felt light. Her airy, thin shirt was doing its job perfectly. The only thing bothering her slightly was her loose hair, but she could tolerate that.
At one point, her gaze drifted slightly to the left, where she spotted a cascade of red curls and a camera with its distinctive colorful strap slung over a shoulder. Triss was walking toward her, her signature smile radiating its usual charm—or at least that's how Yennefer perceived it. As she drew closer, Triss raised a hand and waved.
“I knew it was you!” she said in greeting, stopping right in front of her. “Though I'll admit, I had my doubts for a second.”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching into a barely noticeable smile.
“What caused the hesitation, Merigold?”
Triss gestured to her hair, which in its current style appeared longer than usual.
“Your hair… it's usually tied up. And the sunglasses... I only recognized you once you took them off.”
Yennefer wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance.
“Should I feel like I'm being watched?”
Triss laughed but didn't answer directly.
“You should know you look wonderful.”
Yennefer knew the compliment was friendly, but it still made her feel genuinely better.
“Nice to hear, thank you.”
Triss smiled softly, and their eyes met for a moment. Neither of them spoke, letting the silence linger just a second longer than expected.
“So, what are you doing here? A secret Jaskier fan?” Triss asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
“I'm not here alone,” Yennefer replied with a slight hint of ambiguity in her tone. “I'm waiting for someone.”
Triss blinked, as though something clicked in her mind. She took half a step back, her expression shifting slightly. Yennefer noticed her discreetly looking at her over, a faint trace of unease in her posture.
“Oh…” Triss began, gesturing vaguely, but before she could continue, Ciri and Cerys joined them, looking delighted with cups of colorful drinks in their hands.
“Mom, who's that?” Ciri asked, her eyes full of curiosity as she glanced at Triss.
“This is Triss, we work together,” Yennefer answered in a neutral tone, gesturing toward the journalist. “She handles media relations.”
Triss pursed her lips slightly, exhaling softly, and the relief on her face was almost palpable.
“You're only three here?”” Triss asked, attempting a nonchalant tone.
“Obviously,” the white-haired girl said with childlike bluntness. “I'm Ciri, and this is my best friend, Cerys.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Triss smiled warmly.
“Aren't you a rescuer?” Ciri asked curiously.
Triss looked at her, slightly flustered.
“No, I'm not.” Her tone was gentle, but she shot Yennefer a quick glance, as if sensing there was more behind the question. Yennefer shook her head subtly in response.
“Great!” Ciri replied cheerfully, as if that explained everything.
Yennefer stayed quiet but observed them closely, her focus lingering on Triss.
“Do you like Jaskier?” Cerys suddenly asked.
“Of course, I'm hoping to get some great photos of him,” Triss replied with a light smile, patting her camera.
Ciri shot Yennefer a triumphant look.
“See, Mom? People your age like him too!”
Triss burst into laughter, shaking her head.
“Hey, I'm not that old yet!” she protested in mock indignation.
“I'm glad my company makes you feel younger,” Yennefer quipped sarcastically.
“I am younger, and I don't complain as much as you do,” Triss shot back, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. Ciri turned to Triss with a wide grin, clearly fascinated by someone daring enough to tease her mom so openly.
“Maybe you should come with us? Show Mom how to have some fun?”
Cerys burst into laughter, hiding behind Ciri, who looked at Yennefer with a gleeful smirk. Yennefer shot her daughter an icy glare, though the corners of her lips twitched slightly.
“I know how to have fun, Ciri. But there are better performers than Jaskier,” she said coldly, trying to regain control of the conversation.
“Sure, sure,” Ciri replied, exchanging a glance with Triss before looking directly at her mom, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We all know your super-serious playlist with super-serious music has every single song from 'Frozen'.”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.
“That's your fault. You two wouldn't stop dressing up as Anna and Elsa. I had to either like those songs or lose my mind.”
Triss looked at both girls, her eyes wide with delight.
“You really are the perfect Anna and Elsa! That's adorable, I could take some beautiful photos of you two!” her voice was filled with excitement.
Ciri, suddenly bashful, immediately straightened up.
“We're too old for those kinds of movies now,” she said with an almost adult tone, trying to lend her word's authority.
Cerys nodded solemnly, mimicking her friend's serious expression, but Yennefer just sighed theatrically, as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
“Too old…” she muttered under her breath, turning back to Triss. “Of course, if you like, you're welcome to come with us. But spending time with these two… big girls can be…” Yennefer trailed off and gestured dramatically with her hand before stepping away from the railing. “demanding.”
Despite her words, she smiled warmly, looking at Ciri, who returned the smile with equal sincerity, albeit with a touch of defiance.
“I suppose I don't have a choice...” Triss said quietly, but her eyes shone with genuine joy.
Ciri, still sipping her drink through a straw, shook her head firmly, not taking her eyes off Triss.
“Let's keep going,” Cerys suggested, stepping out from behind the white-haired girl and gesturing for them to head toward the next set of stalls.
Ciri quickly followed, but as she did, she grabbed Triss's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Triss, a little surprised, glanced back at Yennefer with a wide smile before allowing herself to be led along.
The girls immediately began bombarding Triss with questions: about her favorite Jaskier songs, the concerts she had attended, and, of course, his romances. Triss, with her natural, childlike joy, answered every question enthusiastically, often bursting into laughter.
After about fifteen minutes, the girls finished their bubble teas and darted off again to browse every stall, leaving Yennefer to join Triss. They talked naturally and effortlessly, as they always did when together. Triss spoke quickly and animatedly, while Yennefer listened, occasionally interjecting with comments that brought a smile to Triss's face.
“I could eat something…” Yennefer groaned, squeezing through the crowd. “Do you know if they have a food court here? I'm starving like a wolf, and when I'm hungry…”
“You get snarky and unbearable?”
“I was going to say angry,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.
Triss chuckled and pointed toward some red tents a few dozen meters away.
“They've got disgustingly greasy burgers, overly salty fries, and waffles,” Triss said, glancing around. “Unfortunately, the food options here are a joke.”
“Hmm, waffles sound good. Would you like to stand in line with me?”
“Waffles? Really?” Triss teased. “And here I thought you were a woman of refined taste.”
“Sometimes it's worth making a few concessions. If you don't want to, you can stay here and wait for Jaskier.”
Triss chuckled softly.
“Of course, I'll stand with you; it's an honor,” she replied playfully.
A few minutes later, Yennefer and Triss stood near the waffle stand, with more than ten people ahead of them. The air was filled with the scent of vanilla batter, chocolate, and fruit. From the stage, the sound of instruments warming up signaled that the first band was preparing to perform. The line was long, but Yennefer maintained her composure and seemed unbothered by it.
“Waffles with whipped cream and fruit?” Triss asked, glancing at the menu board.
Yennefer's lips curled into a slight grimace.
“Fruit is for those trying to fool themselves into thinking it's a healthy snack,” she said with a mocking smile. “I'll have chocolate. And maybe a little whipped cream.”
Triss giggled.
“You’re so serious, yet eating waffles, with whipped cream, no less?” she teased, giving her a light nudge.
“A little whipped cream never hurt anyone,” Yennefer retorted.
They stood in silence for a moment as the line inched forward. Triss occasionally glanced at Yennefer, as if she wanted to say something. Yennefer felt her gaze but didn't respond. Eventually, the journalist just bit her lip. The enticing aroma of sweet treats grew stronger, intensifying their hunger.
“And you?” Yennefer finally broke the silence. “What will you have?”
“Chocolate and whipped cream sound like a solid choice,” Triss replied with a smile.
Yennefer nodded, a half-smile playing on her lips. At that moment, she noticed Ciri and Cerys returning with enormous ice creams, both grinning from ear to ear. Ciri waved at her, as if to signal that everything was just fine.
“They look happy,” Triss observed, her eyes following the girls.
“They're happy as long as sugar's running through their veins, and they have each other,” Yennefer replied in a calm tone.
“And as long as they have you.” Her words were soft, nearly swallowed by the noise of the crowd, but Yennefer heard them clearly. She turned her head, meeting Triss's gaze.
Yennefer stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing her response.
“I try. That's all anyone can do, right?” she finally said. Her voice was gentle, though tinged with a note of seriousness. “Although, seeing their diet today, I'm not sure my efforts will matter when their stomachs start hurting.”
Triss didn't reply, but her smile spoke volumes. As they reached the counter and placed their order, Yennefer felt the atmosphere between them become more relaxed, though it still carried a subtle undercurrent of tension.
“Ciri had a good idea inviting you to join our little team,” Yennefer said, picking up her waffle. Her tone was playful, but the glance she gave Triss revealed her genuine gratitude for her presence.
Triss chuckled softly, took her waffle, and together they made their way to the girls, who were now sitting at one of the small, round tables. The two were eagerly devouring their ice creams, their legs swinging to the rhythm of the music, completely absorbed in the scene before them, as if in another world.
“I'm glad to be here,” Triss said after a moment. “With you all. Really.”
Yennefer only nodded before sitting down next to the girls.
Yennefer took a bite of her waffle with anticipation, expecting the perfect combination of crispy batter and sweet chocolate. But after the first bite, her expression soured, as if she'd tasted something completely contrary to her expectations.
“Ugh, no!” she groaned, glaring at the waffle with genuine indignation. “It's soft, undercooked, and… disgusting!” Her face twisted in disappointment, and the words escaped her whipped-cream-covered lips with real frustration. “All that waiting!” she added, wiping her mouth.
Triss, amused, glanced at her, which did nothing to improve Yennefer's mood. She watched as Triss raised her own waffle and took a small bite. Her face remained composed, though Yennefer caught the faint twitch of a corner of her mouth.
“Well…” Triss began, swallowing with some difficulty, “They're not the best.”
“Not the best?” Yennefer retorted bluntly. “They're disgusting!” She continued glaring at the unfortunate waffle in her hand as if it had personally offended her.
Hearing their conversation, Cerys turned her head and leaned toward Yennefer with curiosity.
“Can I try it?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.
Yennefer looked up at the girl and then handed her the waffle with a theatrical sigh.
“At your own risk.”
The girl took a small bite and almost immediately spat it out into a napkin, grimacing even more than Yennefer had.
“Ugh, gross!” she admitted with disarming honesty.
Yennefer glanced at the remains of her culinary disaster before standing up with an exaggerated flourish and tossing it into a nearby trash bin.
“Why did I even bother?” she sighed, wiping her hands with a white tissue. “Settling for mediocrity never pays off.”
Triss, still holding her waffle, smiled faintly but continued eating it slowly. Yennefer cast her a look full of amusement and pity.
“Really?” she asked, pointing to the waffle in Triss's hand.
“I waited so long for it; I might as well eat it,” Triss replied, though the slight hesitation in her voice was unmistakable.
Yennefer heaved a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. When the girls finished their ice creams, the group moved on. Yennefer, out of the corner of her eye, caught Triss discreetly tossing the remains of her waffle into a trash can when she thought no one was watching. Yennefer didn't comment but smirked to herself.
They continued wandering between the stalls, and Yennefer noticed she was talking more than usual. Words flowed out of her before she could think them through.
From time to time, they stopped as Triss took photos. Sometimes it was of colorful trinkets on display; other times, it was peculiar-looking gadgets. Yennefer waited patiently, her eyes always on the girls darting from stall to stall. The two girls continued to stay within her range of sight.
At one point, Triss called out to her while standing at a stall filled with small accessories.
“Yen, look at this,” she said, pointing at a purple carabiner and holding it up with an amused smile. “You should have one like this at work. Stylish and practical.”
Yennefer gave her a skeptical look.
“I'm sure it wouldn't hold Pontar,” Yennefer said seriously, though there was a faint trace of amusement in her voice.
Triss simply shrugged and handed some money to the vendor before Yennefer could protest.
“It's yours now.” She held out the small item, and Yennefer looked at it with a mix of surprise and amusement.
“What am I supposed to do with this? You want me to fall off a wall while climbing?” she asked, examining the carabiner.
“You're impossible, you know that? It's a silly gift. You can clip it to your keys or toss it in a drawer and forget about it.” Triss smiled lightly, her tone warm and carefree.
Yennefer turned the carabiner over in her hand, hesitating for a moment, then reached into the pouch at her hip and pulled out her house keys. With a decisive motion, she clipped the carabiner onto the keyring, even though she could feel its poor quality under her fingers. But this time, that didn't matter. The simple, thoughtful gesture from Triss reminded her of how long it had been since anyone had given her something so spontaneous and without reason.
She looked up and caught the genuine smile on Triss's face.
They walked on, but Yennefer noticed that Triss had grown less talkative. She no longer commented on everything she saw, and the camera hanging around her shoulder remained untouched. Yennefer said nothing, allowing her the quiet moment, though it felt unusual.
Suddenly, she noticed Ciri slipping between two stalls, heading toward the backstage area. Cerys followed closely behind, which reassured Yennefer slightly. Cerys was less prone to impulsive decisions. Still, something about their movements sparked a pang of concern.
“Wait here,” she tossed the words to Triss without looking at her, then headed after the girls, weaving through the crowd.
Yennefer made her way between the stalls, keeping her eyes fixed on the girls. When she spotted an ambulance parked on a concrete lot, she felt a wave of relief. Next to it crouched Geralt, dressed in his orange and black rescue uniform. He was listening intently as Ciri and Cerys enthusiastically showed off their purchases. Tiny bracelets and colorful keychains barely fit in their hands as the girls laughed, competing to tell their stories.
“Oh, it's just you,” Yennefer sighed, stepping closer.
Geralt looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips as he rested his forearms on his knees.
“Disappointed again?” he teased, flashing an innocent grin.
Yennefer rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. She crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow at him.
“Did you volunteer for this shift, or were you sent here as punishment?”
“Volunteered,” Geralt shrugged, glancing at the girls. “Thought I might snag an autograph from Jaskier for two of his most devoted fans.”
Ciri and Cerys exchanged excited glances, their smiles stretching wide across their faces.
“Saying that out loud was a genius move,” Yennefer shot him a mock-disapproving look. “What if you can't deliver?”
Geralt shrugged again, his expression neutral but a flicker of humor dancing in his eyes.
“I think they'll understand.” He glanced at the girls, who shook their heads vigorously, wild grins plastered across their faces. “Or not.”
Ciri beamed at him, her smile full of hope.
“No, don't say that. Just get us the autographs!” she exclaimed, with Cerys nodding enthusiastically beside her.
Yennefer glanced over her shoulder toward the crowd. For a moment, she scanned for a familiar figure but didn't spot Triss anywhere. A slight unease crept into her chest.
“Excuse me for a moment. I'll be right back.”
Yennefer turned and left the stalls, weaving her way through the crowd while keeping her eyes peeled. Eventually, she spotted Triss crouched at the barrier. The journalist had her face buried in her hands, seemingly trying to compose herself. The sight made Yennefer quicken her pace, her body instinctively tensing as though she were responding to an emergency.
“Triss?” Her voice cut through the surrounding chaos but didn't startle Triss.
The journalist lifted her head at the sound of her name. Her face was pale, and her eyes glassy. She tried to muster a smile, but it came out weak.
“Yen...” she started, but Yennefer was already crouching beside her, gently resting a hand on her arm.
“What's going on?” Yennefer's voice was laced with genuine concern.
Triss sighed quietly, leaning her head into her hands.
“I think I overdid it with that waffle. Should've tossed it right away,” her tone was tired but calm.
Yennefer studied her closely.
“How are you feeling?”
“A bit lightheaded and my stomach hurts, but it's nothing serious.”
“Come on.” Yennefer extended a hand, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I'm taking you to the medics. Geralt's on duty. He'll take care of you.”
“Yen, it's not necessary...” Triss began, but Yennefer shot her a pointed look.
Triss sighed softly and allowed herself to be helped up. Yennefer gently supported her by the arm, guiding her toward the parked emergency vehicle where the girls were waiting. Maneuvering through the crowd with someone unsteady at her side proved challenging.
When they arrived, Geralt looked at them with mild surprise but quickly stood up, his expression shifting to one of professional focus.
“What's going on?” he asked, addressing Triss.
“Triss is my friend, umm, well, we work together,” Yennefer explained quickly, correcting herself.
Geralt gave her a brief, slightly curious look before nodding. He then gently led Triss toward the ambulance.
“Sit here, slowly and carefully,” Geralt instructed, pointing to the seat inside the vehicle.
Yennefer watched as the vehicle doors closed behind them. She stood still for a moment, resisting the urge to stay closer. She knew Geralt would take care of Triss as best as he could. Turning around, she faced the girls, who stood to the side, visibly worried.
“What happened, Mom?” Ciri asked softly, biting her lip in a way that always betrayed her concern.
Yennefer stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder.
“Triss felt a little weak,” she said calmly. “Geralt is taking care of her. It's probably those waffles.”
The girls nodded, but their worried expressions didn't waver. Yennefer used the moment to explain that sometimes people just don't feel well and need help, but it doesn't always mean it's something serious.
A few minutes later, the ambulance doors opened. Triss stepped out slowly, supported by Geralt. She looked slightly better, though still pale.
“Drink plenty of fluids, preferably water with electrolytes,” Geralt instructed her. “And get some rest.”
Triss nodded and approached Yennefer.
“I think I'll head home,” she said quietly. “Sorry for ruining your fun…”
“I'll drive you,” Yennefer interrupted her firmly.
“But the concert…” Ciri said softly.
Yennefer took a deep breath. At that moment, she didn't care about Jaskier or the entire event.
“I don't want to hold you up. Ciri and Cerys are waiting for Jaskier… I don't want this to be my fault, and…” Triss started, but suddenly stopped, exhaling sharply and clutching her stomach.
Yennefer quickly steadied Triss by the arm. When she spoke, her voice was firm.
“We'll take Triss home. She lives nearby,” Yennefer began, speaking with the same authority she used during rescue missions. “We've got an hour, so we'll easily make it back before the concert. Standing here discussing this is only wasting time. If you don't want me to drive you,” she turned to Triss, “I'll arrange for an ambulance to take you to the emergency room.”
Everyone stood in silence for a moment, understanding that Yennefer's plan was the best course of action.
“There's no point fighting with Mom,” Ciri finally said, giving Triss a small smile.
“I agree,” Geralt added, amused, ignoring Yennefer's reproachful glare.
“Come on, Triss, slow and steady.”
The girls exchanged worried glances, but eventually walked ahead toward the parking lot, talking quietly among themselves. Yennefer kept a watchful eye on Triss as they walked. Though pale, the journalist maintained her composure.
When they reached the car, Yennefer wordlessly helped Triss into the passenger seat, reclining the chair slightly.
“You'll be more comfortable this way,” she said softly, gently touching her arm in an attempt to reassure her.
Triss looked at her with gratitude, and Yennefer responded with a soft but genuine smile, the kind she usually reserved for Ciri.
As she got into the driver’s seat, Yennefer turned on the air conditioning and handed Triss a bottle of water she had retrieved from the trunk.
“Sip slowly, small sips,” she said gently, and when Triss nodded, she added, “If you feel nauseous, let me know right away.”
They arrived quickly. Yennefer parked outside Triss's building and turned off the engine.
“Wait here for a moment,” she said to the girls before helping Triss out of the car.
“I live on the sixth floor,” Triss tried to smile, though her weakness was evident. “Maybe I should've thought of that when choosing the apartment.”
“Too bad I don't have my ropes and cave stretcher,” Yennefer quipped, picking up on Triss's humor. “I could build some kind of window post quickly and lift you up.”
Triss chuckled softly, though she held her stomach as she laughed.
They climbed slowly, floor by floor. Triss stubbornly insisted on walking on her own, though Yennefer stayed close, ready to assist. At the fourth floor, they paused for a moment.
“You know, Yen?” Triss leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. “You're the only person I don't feel silly around when I'm feeling weak.”
Yennefer felt a tightness in her chest.
“That's good, I think,” she replied softly.
When they reached Triss's apartment door, Triss fumbled with her keys for a moment. Yennefer gently took them and unlocked the door.
“I'll be fine,” Triss assured her as she stood in the doorway.
“Rest and drink plenty of water. And text me later to let me know how you're doing,” Yennefer said, trying to keep her tone neutral. “Even if it's the middle of the night.”
“Thank you... for everything. Not just for the ride.”
Yennefer only nodded, watching as Triss closed the door behind her. On her way back to the car, Yennefer felt a strange sensation growing inside her. A kind of concern for Triss that she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't the same responsibility she felt for Ciri or Cerys.
When Yennefer returned to the car, Ciri and Cerys were unusually quiet in the back seat. She didn't miss the way they exchanged glances in the rearview mirror.
“Will Triss be okay?” Ciri finally asked, leaning forward.
Yennefer started the engine, smiling faintly at the concern in her daughter's voice. “Yes, she just needs to rest.”
“We like Triss,” Cerys stated with her usual frankness. “She's different from most serious adults.”
“Hmm,” Yennefer murmured, focusing on pulling out of the parking lot.
“Well, she's actually normal,” Ciri added emphatically. “Not like the rescue workers who spend every gathering telling their action stories and obsessing over safety measures.”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, glancing at the mirror. “Who would've thought that bothered you?”
“Triss tells more interesting things.” Ciri rolled her eyes. “And she doesn't use all those weird words nobody normal understands. You can actually talk to her normally, and she likes Jaskier.”
Yennefer snorted softly.
“I still can't believe she wanted to see his concert.”
“Exactly!” Ciri leaned back triumphantly. “It's sad she's missing it, though. Maybe we can invite her next time Jaskier plays nearby.”
Yennefer glanced at her daughter in the mirror. “We'll see how quickly she recovers her appetite for our company after today's waffle incident.”
“I'm sure she'll be back,” Ciri muttered with that all-knowing smile that always reminded Yennefer of herself.
Cerys giggled softly, and Yennefer shook her head as she turned on the radio, letting the music fill the car.
At the stadium, music was already pouring into the evening air. The crowd swayed to its rhythm, and the stage lights and lasers painted a hypnotic spectacle above.
“Can we go closer?” Ciri asked, giving Yennefer a pleading look.
Yennefer hesitated, evaluating the crowd in front of the stage. Teenagers, most around Ciri's age or a little older. She took a deep breath.
“Alright, but stick together,” she said, doing her best to make her voice sound firm.
As Yennefer watched the girls weave through the crowd until they found a spot closer to the stage, she leaned against the barrier at the back. She fought the instinct to follow them, knowing she had to trust them and give them a little freedom. After all, they were old enough to take care of themselves.
Triss should be here, she thought, silently admiring the display of green and blue lasers dancing above the crowd. Her presence always seemed to add a sense of lightness to everything. Now... now, that spark was missing.
Pulling out her phone, Yennefer snapped a few pictures of the stage. Even from a distance, the lights looked stunning. As she scrolled through the photos, she decided to send one to Triss.
'Jaskier wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t share his brilliance with you. How are you feeling?' she typed and hit send.
The reply came faster than she expected.
'Beautiful photo; those lights look incredible! I barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach gave up entirely. Thank you for not letting me stay. Seriously.'
Yennefer smiled faintly.
'Blame it on those damn waffles.'
Triss replied almost instantly:
'Maybe I really should stop settling for less.'
Yennefer frowned slightly, staring at the screen. She knew Triss was referencing her earlier remark about food, but there was something heavier in those words. Something that didn’t quite match the lighthearted tone of their exchange.
'Rest and take care of yourself,' she responded quickly and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
Her eyes returned to the stage. Jaskier was singing another song, and the crowd was bouncing in rhythm, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She remembered how easily she had called Triss her friend earlier, in front of Geralt. She hadn’t missed his glance. He knew her too well to think she would use such words lightly. Friendship always meant more to her than it did to most people.
Yet, this time, the word had come so naturally. As if she’d finally found the right way to describe what she felt around Triss. That ease and lightness, the mutual understanding, the desire to share even the smallest moments, like a picture from this concert. Yennefer felt that for complete peace of mind, she needed to hear Triss say she saw her as a friend too. But Yennefer was terrible at conversations like that. Maybe, someday, the right moment would present itself to talk about it.
Notes:
Let me add a little bit of grumbling from my side:
I wanted to write the scene of sick Triss mainly to "break the spell" of that moment (I really dislike it in the books). Unfortunately, being sick myself didn’t help, and my beta reader (who happens to be a paramedic and volunteer firefighter) kept a close eye on me. Apparently, my imagination went a bit overboard with the ambulance scene, so I had to rewrite the whole thing. That made the sick Triss scene tiring for me again, even in my own story. Some things just can't be changed, I suppose, and that's how it is. The important thing is that now it's accurate—or at least very close to reality!
One more thing! I’m not sure whether to post the next chapter between Christmas and New Year’s, or if it’s better to wait until January. Please let me know what you think.
Chapter 8
Notes:
Merry Christmas to all of you! 🎄
Thank you to everyone who's still here with me! 💜
Chapter Text
Yennefer drove her black Volvo toward the station, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the radio. The June sun still hung high in the sky, despite the dashboard clock reading 7:40 pm. The road from her small house in Zamirath to the station wound through striking terrain. It curved through the hills like a serpent, revealing breathtaking views at each rise. She remained focused on the road, occasionally checking her rearview mirror for Pontar.
At the last intersection before the station, Triss's red Toyota appeared in her mirror, following so close it seemed glued to her Volvo's bumper. Yennefer resisted the urge to roll her eyes; she was gradually adjusting to Triss's intense presence. The woman was always close. Perhaps too close.
Yennefer typically parked in reverse for an easier departure after her shift. But as they pulled into the lot, the red Toyota left her no room to maneuver. She briefly considered slamming her brakes and shifting into reverse, imagining their cars meeting in a dull thud. But she loved her Volvo too much to risk it. Instead, she pulled in nose-first. Stepping out, she let Pontar out and brushed the white dog hair from her tracksuit; a futile gesture, more habitual than effective.
“Didn’t they teach you how to keep your distance?” she asked as Triss climbed out of her car, meeting her gaze over the roof of the red car.
“And didn’t they teach you how to greet people like a normal person?” Triss replied smoothly, adjusting the strap of a sports bag slung over her shoulder and stepping out from behind the car.
Yennefer noted that even in sportswear, Triss looked like she had just stepped out of a store display. Her black leggings with colorful stripes and fitted hoodie perfectly accentuated her figure. The ensemble stood in sharp contrast to Yennefer's plain black tracksuit and tank top. Though at least they matched in color.
“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, watching Triss crouch to pet Pontar.
“So, you can manage a normal conversation. See? Not so difficult,” Triss teased, then added, “I'm feeling much better than Friday.”
Yennefer waited until Triss stood up.
“I'm glad to hear that.”
“How are the night shifts?”
“Don't get your hopes up,” Yennefer replied candidly as they walked toward the entrance. “We usually have one or two calls.”
“Per shift?”
“Per week,” Yennefer said, smiling at the journalist's visible disappointment.
“So what do we do?”
“You can sleep,” she said, her voice playful, “or you can join us in the duty room and watch movies.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I'm joking?”
Sunday, June 23, 8:00 pm
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
Yennefer's first night shift of the week was surprisingly pleasant. She watched with mild amusement as Triss discovered that rescuers really spent their downtime watching movies or playing games. Though, Triss soon relocated with her laptop to Philippa's office, as the duty room's cheerful laughter and running commentary made it difficult to concentrate on writing.
The calm was short-lived. On the second evening, a heated exchange between Philippa and Triss disrupted the peace. Yennefer sat in the briefing room, waiting for her shift to begin and chatting with Syanna about her recent date, when she heard her boss's raised voice.
“Either focus on your work, or you can go home!” Philippa snapped. Without sparing Triss a glance, she strode into the room with her head held high and positioned herself before everyone, ready to lead the briefing.
Triss stood alone in the doorway, her face flushing with a mix of humiliation and anger. Yennefer felt a pang in her chest at the sight, but before she could react, Chireadan patted the seat next to him. Triss sat down with a forced smile. The briefing continued without incident.
Later that day, everyone in the duty room jumped when Philippa's office door slammed shut. It seemed “little” Merigold had finally shown her claws and lost her temper. The rescuers exchanged knowing looks, tossing around a few jokes about “lovers' quarrels” before the topic faded. However, this peace didn't last long.
By Thursday, another door slam echoed through the station, followed by hurried footsteps. The sudden noise cut through the rescuers' lighthearted chatter in the duty room. Yennefer, standing near the entrance, turned to look into the hallway.
“Triss? Is everything okay?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
The journalist’s face was a storm of emotions, so many that Yennefer couldn’t pin them down... grief, anger, shame, perhaps more. Triss opened her mouth as if to say something but stopped herself, waving her hand in a gesture of dismissal.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice trembling. Her lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to hold back tears.
Clutching her bag tightly to her chest, Triss brushed past Yennefer, avoiding eye contact. She rushed toward and pushed the double exit doors forcefully. She ran outside before the automatic closer shut them behind her with a soft click of the lock. A heavy silence fell over the station.
Yennefer remained frozen in place, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Seeing Triss so devastated stirred an unexpected ache in her chest. She wanted to do something, to help somehow, but she had no idea how to act.
The duty room had fallen silent. Glancing around, she saw her colleagues' faces mirroring her own confusion and discomfort. Words failed everyone.
On the corner monitor displaying CCTV footage, she watched as Triss sprinted across the parking lot to her car. After fumbling briefly with her keys, Triss climbed in, started the engine, and sped away from the station.
“Well, that's enough of this,” Crach finally said, his quiet but firm voice breaking the silence. “Yen, talk to Philippa.”
Yennefer closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if summoning the strength she needed. She knew the responsibility fell on her. She was the only one at the station who knew Philippa well enough to approach her, and the only one really unafraid to confront her.
Part of her wanted to stay out of it. Though she tried to convince herself their relationship drama didn't matter to her, seeing Triss's pain stirred something inside. Her friendship with both women—if she could even call her tentative connection with Triss that—only complicated things.
She had known Philippa for years and understood how she operated: setting clear expectations at the start of every relationship. But Yennefer knew those rules, and she was certain that Triss, with her sensitivity, wasn’t suited for such an arrangement. It was like putting an innocent bird in a room with a cat. Destined to end badly.
She dreaded the confrontation, but Crach was right. This was their workplace, and such behavior was simply unacceptable.
Yennefer found Philippa in her office, talking on the phone. A smile lingered on Philippa’s lips. A Smile Yennefer hadn’t seen in a very long time.
“See you tomorrow, Sheala,” Philippa ended the call just as Yennefer stepped into the office. Their eyes met instantly. Philippa’s gaze, as always, was dark and unreadable.
“Really?” Yennefer’s voice was icy. “Is that why we just had the whole door-slamming spectacle?”
“Triss is behaving irrationally, and you know perfectly well that upset children love to slam doors when things don’t go their way,” Philippa replied with a shrug, completely unfazed.
“You could have spared her the phone call at least,” Yennefer said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You knew exactly how she would react. You might fool others, but I know you, Phil…”
“The fact that Triss doesn’t understand the rules isn’t my problem,” Philippa said calmly, placing her phone face-down on the desk. Her composure was infuriatingly calculated. “I’m not going to hide my calls with Sheala just because someone has unrealistic expectations. Triss knew from the start what this was about. It was a simple arrangement, Yennefer. Very simple.”
“And Sheala?”
“She understands exactly what it is,” Philippa said with a razor-sharp smile. “Unlike some people, she doesn’t expect more than I’m willing to give.”
“You could at least keep things professional. You know this isn’t the place for your drama.”
“I was professional. I reminded Triss that we’re at work and that, aside from the occasional sharing of my bed, there’s nothing between us. She agreed to those terms, Yennefer. It’s not my fault she let herself get emotionally involved.”
Yennefer felt a cold, tight grip on her chest.
“Get your personal life in order, Phil. It’s affecting the entire unit.”
“Oh?” Philippa’s smile turned knowing, almost smug. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re here?”
Yennefer felt heat rising to her face but didn’t let it show. Philippa, as always, had a way of twisting any situation to her advantage. But Yennefer wasn’t about to let her throw her unbalanced so easily.
“I’m here because no one else has the guts to tell you to your face just how much you can fuck everything up.”
She left Philippa's office without another word. In the hallway, Pontar sat waiting; always ready with his silent support. She called him over, and together they walked to the terrace. Settling on the wooden floor with her back against the building wall, she stroked the soft fur behind his ear. He gazed at her with those understanding eyes, as if he comprehended everything perfectly. Though she felt her phone's weight in her pocket, she refused to give in. She had already told Triss multiple times that she was available if needed. She wouldn't force herself into the situation.
Triss didn't show up the next day, deepening the tension at the station.
Fate, however, as if in an ironic reward for helping to defuse others' tensions, decided to test Yennefer's calm. On Saturday evening, as she was leaving her house for the last night shift of the week, she noticed that the rear tire of her Volvo was completely flat. She cursed under her breath and pulled out her phone.
“I'm running late. Car trouble,” she said tersely to Philippa.
“Fine,” Philippa replied with equal brevity.
Yennefer retrieved a jack and a lug wrench from the trunk. She wrestled with the lug nuts, muttering curses under her breath every time the wrench slipped. She always kept a full-size spare wheel instead of a small access wheel, and her foresight paid off this time. By the time she finished the replacement, she was exhausted. Loosening the nuts had taken a surprising amount of strength, and the summer heat didn’t make things any easier. She was sweaty and frustrated, but when she inspected the damaged tire, her anger gave way to an unsettling feeling. A nail lodged perfectly in the tread groove sent a shiver down her spine. It seemed too precise to be an accident.
The vibration of her phone pulled her back to reality. She tossed the damaged wheel into the garage, pushing away the uneasy thought.
The monotony of the last shift weighed on her more than usual. Her thoughts kept drifting between Triss and the punctured tire. Eventually, she decided to work out on the climbing wall, this time alone. Just her and the focus it took to place each foot where it needed to be and grip only what was necessary. Slowly and deliberately. Physical effort always helped her clear her mind.
Pontar didn’t leave her side. As she scaled the wall, he lay in the corner of the room, keeping a vigilant eye on her from below.
In the morning, as she prepared to head home, Yennefer glanced at her phone. No messages, but did she really expect any? Did she think Triss would stay up all night texting her instead of sleeping? She sighed, walking to her car and checking the tire. Everything seemed fine, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was lurking just out of sight.
When Yennefer got home, instead of going straight to bed, she got to work setting up the hammock she’d bought as a surprise for Ciri. Then she started assembling the rack swimming pool. The tasks took her longer than expected, as she allowed her thoughts to drift while the repetitive work kept her hands busy and her mind somewhat clear. The weather was perfect for summer, and the pool seemed like the ideal way to beat the heat.
When Geralt brought Ciri home, he joined in helping her finish the pool set up. Meanwhile, Ciri pulled the garden hose out of the garage, happily preparing everything to fill it with water. Together, they finished just before noon. Just in time to retreat indoors and avoid the worst of the midday heat and the risk of heatstroke. Geralt thanked Yennefer for her hospitality, mentioning he had some errands to run, and left. Yennefer and Ciri then turned their attention to preparing lunch.
The plan for the coming week felt like something perfect: hammock, pool, and good books. The best way to rest. Yennefer felt it was precisely what she needed. Moreover, Ciri was in a perfect mood, and Yennefer, wanting to keep the atmosphere light, agreed to let some of her classmates come over for visits. Although the house became filled with noise and a touch of chaos, she was happy that this was what her daughter’s summer looked like.
Plus, she had everything under control, and a few of the kids even remarked that Ciri had a “cool mom.” Ciri wrinkled her nose at the comment, as if it were an outrageous exaggeration, but that only amused Yennefer more.
On Tuesday morning, Yennefer was cooking and chopping vegetables for soup while Ciri, Cerys, and three other girls sat at the living room table creating a colorful scrapbook for summer memories.
The table was piled high with stickers, colorful markers, ribbons of all kinds, and jars of glitter. Yennefer glanced at the scene with a mix of amusement and trepidation, knowing the fluffy white rug might not survive this explosion of creativity. Ciri had promised they’d be careful and insisted on working here because the living room was cooler than her bedroom. Pontar had disappeared somewhere into the yard, likely lying in the shade under the trees. Yennefer was certain the dog wouldn’t reappear until it was mealtime.
Her phone's ring startled her. She was even more surprised to see Triss's name on the screen. A faint smile crossed her lips as she quickly wiped her hands. She'd been debating for days whether to reach out, and now the decision had been made for her. She answered while glancing out the window.
“Hey.”
“I'm fourteenth!” Triss exclaimed, her voice full of excitement.
It took Yennefer a moment to piece together what she meant. The competition.
“Congratulations, Merigold,” she said with a touch of irony. “Though I'll admit, I was sure you'd win.”
“You think I'm that good?”
“I think Pontar deserved more credit,” Yennefer replied dryly.
“Oh, right, Pontar…” Triss laughed lightly. “We should celebrate, don't you think? After all, you deserve some credit too—besides me and Pontar.”
“Definitely,” Yennefer said, glancing at the clear, blue sky outside. “In this weather, all I can think about is iced coffee with raspberry syrup.”
“Do you have time today? Maybe we could meet at a café and...”
“Umm, Triss,” Yennefer interrupted gently, “I currently have five girls in my house armed with jars of glitter and glue…”
“Oh… sorry. I'll call another time...” Triss sounded slightly embarrassed.
“No.” The word escaped Yennefer's lips almost too quickly. “You… you could come over for coffee. If you'd like.”
A brief silence hung on the other end of the line. Yennefer felt a familiar knot tighten in her stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Are you sure?” Triss's voice carried a mix of disbelief and something else. “I don't want to intrude.”
“Trust me, with five teenagers under one roof, the presence of another adult is like medicine. I'll send you my address, and if you feel like it, you're welcome to come by.”
“Thank you. I just need to send an article to my editor, and then I'll head over. See you soon.”
“See you,” Yennefer replied, ending the call with a soft smile.
Yennefer sent Triss her address with a quick swipe of her thumb across the phone screen. Returning to her vegetable chopping, she felt a comforting calm settle over her. Here in her own home, away from work's pressures, she could simply be herself.
An hour later, an engine sound cut through the girls' lively chatter. Yennefer looked out the window and saw a red Toyota parked on the side of the road. After drying her hands on the kitchen towel, she stepped outside to welcome the journalist at the gate.
“I've got something for you,” Triss said with a smile, presenting a sizable box wrapped elegantly with ribbon. “To thank you for helping with the article.”
Yennefer felt the pleasant weight of the gift in her hands.
“Thank you, but you really didn't have to,” she said warmly. “Come on in; the kitchen's to the right.”
Once inside, Triss removed her shoes and made her way to the kitchen. Ciri, looking up from her scrapbook, greeted Triss with a wave. Yennefer observed as Triss paused at the kitchen island, taking in the space thoughtfully.
Retrieving scissors from a drawer, Yennefer carefully cut the tape and opened the box. Inside lay a thermal mug, its red surface adorned with subtle embossed lines in black and white that traced mountain peaks. It was beautifully simple.
“I know you probably already have a thermal mug…” Triss began hesitantly. “But when I saw this one, I thought of you immediately. The red reminded me of rescue work, the black line of you, and the white…of Pontar. And I thought...”
Yennefer lifted the mug, turning it in her hands. It was perfectly balanced, with a non-slip silicone coating and an elegant design that spoke of quality.
“Triss,” she interrupted gently. The journalist trailed off, looking at her with a hint of apprehension. “It's perfect, truly. Thank you.”
A broad smile spread across Triss's face.
“No, thank you,” she replied warmly.
Yennefer reached into the box again and pulled out another package. It was her favorite coffee. She looked at Triss.
“How did you know?” Yennefer asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I've told you this many times, observation is part of my job,” Triss replied with a light shrug and a small smile, perching on a high stool by the kitchen island.
“There's a fine line between observation and spying,” Yennefer said, amusement coloring her voice.
“I'm not following you yet, if that's what you're asking,” Triss replied with an innocent smile.
“Yet?”
The memory of the punctured tire flashed through Yennefer's mind like a warning signal. Her muscles tensed instinctively, responding to an irrational sense of threat. She dismissed the thought immediately. Triss slashing her tire? Absurd. Setting the mug down carefully on the counter, she pushed the notion aside.
“You never know what might happen,” Triss said with a playful wink, oblivious to Yennefer's momentary unease.
“Hot coffee or iced?” Yennefer asked, shifting to safer territory.
“Iced, as promised.”
Yennefer crafted two iced coffees in tall glasses, adding almond milk and two scoops of vanilla ice cream to each. She crushed ice, crowned the drinks with whipped cream, and placed glass straws: one purple, one blue, alongside them. Almost ready.
“Raspberry syrup?” she asked, reaching for the bottle.
“Yes, please,” Triss laughed. “I wasn't expecting such a professional coffee.”
“We're celebrating,” Yennefer reminded her, adding a splash of syrup to the glasses. “Besides, you promised to stop settling for less.”
“Fair point.”
Yennefer lowered the heat on the stove where the soup was simmering, then sat down beside Triss, setting the beautifully garnished drink in front of her.
She watched as Triss sat with one leg tucked under herself, slowly stirring her coffee with the blue straw. She looked so… natural in this space, as though she had always belonged here. In the living room, Ciri and her friends were sprawled across the couch, their laughter, and chatter creating a warm, lively background for the moment.
To her own surprise, Yennefer felt completely at ease. None of the usual tension she experienced around Triss disrupted this moment. Maybe it was because she was in her own home. Maybe it was the lively, homey atmosphere. Or maybe she had simply stopped fighting something that didn’t need to be fought.
Another burst of laughter erupted from the living room. Triss glanced in that direction with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up.
“I envy Ciri for her carefree attitude,” she said, turning her gaze back to Yennefer.
“Mmm,” Yennefer murmured, taking a sip of her coffee.
“How do you handle all this chaos?” Triss laughed, shaking her head. “You, Miss ‘I-need-my-space’?”
Yennefer rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched into a faint smile.
“Next time you worry about being ‘too much,’ just remember this scene.”
Their eyes met, and Yennefer caught a flicker of hesitation in Triss's gaze. She sensed Triss wanted to say something, something important, perhaps? But before the moment could unfold, louder shrieks and laughter erupted from the living room. Yennefer realized that if Triss wanted to discuss anything serious, they'd need more privacy.
“All right, girls!” she called firmly, standing up and trading her relaxed demeanor for her authoritative tone. “Up you go. You've got the whole floor to yourselves. Just stay out of my bedroom.”
“But Mom…” Ciri protested, but Yennefer silenced her with a pointed look.
The girls gathered their things and shuffled upstairs. Ciri shot her a meaningful glance on her way out, but Yennefer remained unmoved.
After the house quieted down, Yennefer gestured toward another room.
“Come on,” she said. “It'll be more comfortable there.”
Triss smiled softly and followed her, settling onto the large sectional couch, cradling her coffee cup in both hands.
Yennefer gathered the scattered papers and items the girls had left behind, carried them to the stairs, then returned with her coffee. She placed the cup on the glitter-dusted glass coffee table and sat beside Triss, tucking her legs beneath her. Turning slightly, she rested her arm on the back of the couch and ran a hand through her hair.
“I apologize for that scene at the station,” Triss said suddenly, staring down at her hands. “It was so… awful.”
Yennefer watched her carefully, unsure how to respond. Fortunately, Triss continued.
“I really messed up, didn't I? Do you think I can apologize and come back, or should I… leave?” Her gaze held both worry and hope.
Propping her head on her hand, Yennefer answered calmly, “Buy some glazed donuts for Sunday if you want to apologize to them, and make sure it doesn't happen again.”
“That's it?” Triss looked at her with mild disbelief.
“What else would you do?” Yennefer shrugged. “Give them some time. I know you can be professional during calls, but they need to see it for themselves.” Her voice was steady, her gaze intense, as if willing each word to sink in. “And don't expect to be taken on calls right away.”
Triss dropped her eyes, biting her lip.
“Not even with you? You won't take me on actions either?” she asked quietly, as if dreading the answer. “If you think I need time, I'll understand.”
Yennefer took a deep breath.
“It depends on the type of call, Triss. I wouldn't want to bring you into anything too serious right away… It might be too much at this stage.” Her tone was honest but gentle. “But I've been out in the field with you, and I know I can count on you. That argument with Philippa hasn't changed that.”
Triss lifted her head, relief flickering across her face.
“Got it,” she said slowly, taking a sip of her coffee. “So… donuts and professionalism?”
Yennefer smiled with mild amusement.
“Yes, but they have to be glazed donuts. It's very important. “
Triss let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth.
“You have such a cozy home,” she said after a moment. Seeing Yennefer's surprised look, she quickly added with a small smile, “For you, I mean.”
“For me? What were you expecting? A witch's hut?” Yennefer asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I thought it would be more… sterile.”
This time, Yennefer laughed genuinely.
“Sterile? With a kid and a long-haired dog?” she replied incredulously.
“Who knows? Maybe you spend all day chasing Ciri and Pontar with a rag, keeping every corner spotless,” Triss teased, clearly entertained by the thought.
“Definitely not,” Yennefer said, gesturing toward the scattered papers, the jacket draped over the stair railing, and other misplaced items. “This is what I call tidy. If anyone has a problem with it, that's their issue. I can't stand visiting someone whose home looks like a catalog, and they apologize for the 'mess.' It's absurd.”
“Oh, I hate that too,” Triss agreed with a smile. “Though, I admit, I do it myself sometimes.”
The glass terrace doors creaked softly as Pontar padded inside. His tail began wagging enthusiastically when he spotted Triss, and he approached the couch to rest his head on the journalist's knee.
“Well, look who's decided to grace us with his presence,” Yennefer murmured warmly. “It's not dinnertime yet, Ponty.”
“Ponty?” Triss looked at her with amusement before turning to the dog with mock seriousness. “Is she insulting you, pup?”
Pontar answered with a soft grumble, placing his paws on the seat next to Triss. He gazed at her with warm eyes, clearly seeking attention. Triss stroked him with a smile that suggested she was enjoying the moment even more than he was.
Yennefer shook her head and sipped her coffee. Their conversation drifted to lighter topics, and footsteps and laughter filtered down from upstairs. Triss assured her that she didn't mind the noise, even praising how Yennefer let the kids fully enjoy their summer.
She finished her coffee while listening to the warm timbre of Triss's voice. She glanced at her watch, then at the soup simmering quietly on the stove.
“Will you stay for lunch?” she asked, standing to put her glass away.
“Thanks, but maybe another time,” Triss replied with a warm smile, placing her glass on the counter. “I've already taken up enough of your time.”
“Yes, because I'm very busy right now. How could you?” Yennefer said pretending to be serious.
She didn't push further. When Yennefer offered something, it was always genuine, without hidden motives.
As always, with Pontar by her side, she walked Triss to the gate. At their goodbye, Triss hugged her without hesitation. To Yennefer's surprise, not only did she not tense up, but she returned the brief, warm embrace with genuine pleasure.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Triss said, stepping back with a smile.
“Anytime,” Yennefer replied.
She leaned against the gatepost, watching the red Toyota disappeared around the corner. Pontar sat beside her, nudging her hand with his nose.
“Yes, I know,” she muttered to the dog. “You like her too.”
Back inside, another burst of laughter echoed from upstairs. A small smile tugged at Yennefer's lips as she returned to the kitchen. The new thermal mug sat on the counter, its vibrant red color catching her eye. She traced the black-and-white line winding around it like a mountain ridge. That small gesture reminded her that this day had brought more surprises than she could have anticipated.
The rest of the week flew by, as it always did, when Yennefer felt everything was in its proper place. A heat wave descended upon them, bringing stifling, motionless air and daytime temperatures that made the days unbearable. Each evening, dark navy clouds gathered over the mountains. Storms rolled in from Kaedwen, prompting Yennefer to study weather maps with mixed curiosity and concern, tracking their path toward her location.
She welcomed nighttime rain. It brought relief and aided her sleep, but storms were different. As her week of day shifts began, the weather remained unchanged. The oppressive heat and nightly storm warnings became routine. While her town seemed sheltered by an invisible barrier that deflected storms, Montecalvo drew them in like a magnet.
The stark difference puzzled Yennefer. Despite living less than twenty kilometers away, the weather patterns varied dramatically. Someone once explained it was due to the terrain and her town's position in a valley, but the explanation proved too complex to pursue.
During Sunday's shift, Triss brought donuts and offered a brief, clear apology to the team without dwelling on explanations. The tension dissolved softly. Her relationship with Philippa returned to normal, much to Yennefer's relief, though she silently hoped to avoid similar conflicts in the future.
The heat affected everyone, resulting in mostly routine calls—hikers fainting or suffering from dehydration on the trails. These were straightforward operations: provide water, basic first aid, and shade before transferring patients to ambulance crews. Though mountain rescuers lacked full medical paramedic certification, some, like Yennefer, had advanced medical rescue training. Still, their main duty remained stabilizing patients for ambulance transport.
Yennefer paced the station, craving cool air. Her long pants stuck to her skin, but seeing Pontar reminded her it could be worse. Eskel had helped set up a small pool for the dog, where Pontar would occasionally soak before retreating to the bushes' shade. His fur had become perpetually disheveled, and Yennefer postponed proper grooming until after her shift week ended.
On Tuesday afternoon, as she sought refuge in the briefing room's relative coolness, Crach's sharp voice crackled over the speaker.
“Search and rescue team, gear up for deployment.”
She strode toward the duty room, passing Triss who, sensing her urgency, followed immediately.
“What have we got, Crach?” Yennefer asked as she entered the room with Triss. Eskel and Dorian appeared right behind them, ready for action.
“We have a call from an eight-year-old boy,” Crach began, his eyes scanning the monitors. “He was hiking the black trail to Raven Ridge with his aunt. He says she slipped, hit her head, and is unconscious.”
Yennefer frowned as she listened to the details.
“I’ve sent a team from the Nimroth station, but they haven’t been able to locate them. Take Pontar and head out. It’s a fair distance, so don’t waste time, especially if the woman is unconscious. I’ll try to get more information from the boy and keep you updated. Even if the team from Nimroth finds them, you’ll be needed to assist the child. Take the Toyota and get moving.”
“Got it,” Yennefer said with a firm nod, her voice showing no hesitation. “Can Triss come with us?”
“Yes, but remember, you’re responsible for her,” Crach replied without looking up from his paperwork.
The team rushed to the garage, and the room erupted into brief chaos. Eskel and Dorian grabbed their backpacks, double-checking the gear, while Yennefer secured Pontar’s harness. The dog lifted his head and barked once, ready for action.
“Are you going with us?” Yennefer asked Triss as she grabbed her own backpack.
The journalist nodded, following Yennefer to the vehicle. Yennefer glanced at the back of the car to ensure they had everything; they’d checked it that morning. She secured Pontar’s harness before stepping aside to make room for Dorian. As she passed Triss, she quickly touched her shoulder, a brief gesture meant to reassure her. Triss smiled with relief and took her seat next to the young rescuer.
Climbing into the commander’s seat, Yennefer felt the tension in the air mounting. On the horizon, heavy, steel-gray clouds gathered, promising an approaching storm.
They set off, reporting their departure over the radio. Raven Ridge, though not particularly high at just 912 meters above sea level, offered varied terrain. The black trail, about five kilometers long, wound through picturesque limestone rock formations that gradually gave way to more typical, forested mountain landscapes. The area, though unassuming, could be treacherous, especially for inexperienced hikers.
The drive took them over thirty minutes. Nimroth, a small mountain town, was home to a seasonal MCRS station operated by the Montecalvo group. These outposts, usually staffed by two or three volunteers, were the first to reach incident sites and provide initial assistance until support arrived from the main base. During summer, four such stations remained operational, while in winter only two stayed active, significantly reducing response times across the mountain region.
The rescuers on site sent Yennefer the location through the new internal app. The system, which had been in testing for two weeks, showed promise but still required practice. Yennefer checked the action plan displayed on the map and cross-referenced it with the traditional GPS. The radio crackled, and Crach’s voice filled the vehicle:
“We’ve got an update. The boy mentioned passing a wooden hut—we’re guessing it’s the old lookout tower. He also said they went downhill off the trail, and his aunt slipped on wet rocks. He’s terrified and unsure if it’s near a stream or just wet stones since there was a heavy storm in the area last night. The guys are already searching along the stream in sector A. Dorien and Eskel, you’ll start from sector B, also along the stream, and drop Yennefer at B5. From there, it’s up to the dog’s nose.”
“Understood,” Yennefer replied calmly, fully focused.
They reached the trail leading to Raven Ridge. The air was thick and stifling, the threat of a storm hanging over them, like a constant reminder that time and weather were their greatest enemies.
At the roadside near a small lookout tower, a red quad with a trailer stood idle, but the rescuers were no longer in sight. Eskel drove past it and stopped at the spot where Yennefer would begin her search. Without wasting time, she jumped out of the vehicle, simultaneously clipping her radio and GPS to her vest. The heat was oppressive, sweat running down her back, but the vest was essential, it held all the necessary equipment.
Triss got out of the vehicle as Yennefer leashed Pontar and slung a large medical backpack over her shoulders. Closing the door, she signaled to Eskel that he could go. With practiced ease, the rescuer maneuvered the large vehicle and, along with Dorien, returned to their sector. The road was wide enough to accommodate two vehicles, but the fact that the victim had gone off-trail changed everything.
The slope descended steeply, covered in dense shrubs and trees that partially obscured visibility but could provide natural support. Driving into the area, even with a quad, wasn’t an option. The entire terrain would have to be searched on foot.
“Triss, it’s pretty steep here. If you feel like you can’t handle it, go back to the trail and wait. Just send me a message to let me know you’re okay, all right?”
“Sure,” Triss replied, doing her best to keep any hint of uncertainty out of her voice.
Yennefer nodded, unclipped the dog’s leash, pointed ahead, and gave a short command:
“Search!”
Pontar darted forward, sniffing intensely. His nose alternated between skimming the ground and lifting into the air, catching scents carried on the wind. Yennefer followed him down the slope, using trees to steady herself. The terrain was steep, and for a moment, she considered using a safety rope. But after a few dozen meters, the incline evened out enough for her to continue safely.
“Does he really know how to find a person without having their scent?” Triss asked suddenly, trying to mask the slight skepticism in her tone.
“I’ve explained this to you before,” Yennefer replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the dog.
“Yes, but I wasn’t sure and wanted to see if it actually works.”
“It does. A search-and-rescue dog senses people… in a way, their presence. We often say they can ‘smell breath.’ They don’t need a specific scent,” Yennefer explained briefly.
She moved cautiously, placing her steps carefully to avoid losing her balance on the uneven ground. Her gaze frequently darted to Pontar, who confidently led them further down the slope. Over the radio, updates from other teams buzzed periodically. Yennefer checked in a few times, relaying their position. Triss followed close behind, moving carefully but clearly impressed by the dog’s skill.
Suddenly, Pontar stopped, barked once, and looked back at Yennefer, as if to confirm he had found something. Then he pressed forward with even more certainty.
“Hello!” Yennefer called loudly. If the boy was nearby, he should be able to hear her. “Hello, is anyone here?!”
The dog pushed through the underbrush with determination, leading her deeper into the forest.
“Hello!” she shouted again, keeping her balance on the uneven terrain. “Anyone here?”
“Help…” a thin, trembling voice finally called out from ahead.
Yennefer quickened her pace, running as fast as the conditions allowed. Triss was somewhere behind her, but at that moment, Yennefer couldn’t wait. Pontar, alerted by the sound, sped up even more, and moments later, his barking signaled that he had reached the location.
Yennefer pushed through the last of the bushes and saw the boy. He looked terrified, curled up next to a tree, staring at Pontar, who stood beside him in his red vest, barking rhythmically as if to make sure he had gotten her attention.
“Montecalvo Central, this is Yennefer.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve found the boy. Sending the location through the app.”
She quickly tapped the coordinate button on the screen while approaching the boy and giving Pontar a reassuring pat for a job well done.
“Hey, I’m Yennefer, a mountain rescuer. What’s your name?” she asked calmly, crouching down next to the boy.
“Mike,” he replied softly but steadily.
“Mike, are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
“No, just my aunt…”
“I’ll take care of her. You’ve been very brave. Now I need your help, okay?” she said gently, her voice soothing and encouraging.
“Okay,” he nodded.
“Great. See that tree over there? Stand by it and watch for other rescuers. If you see someone, wave your arms and shout as loud as you can, okay? Pontar will stay with you. You can pet him—he loves it.”
Mike obediently nodded and walked a few steps toward the direction she had come from. Yennefer gave Pontar a brief command to follow the boy, and the dog immediately trotted after him, understanding that his task was to stay with and protect the child. She knew that giving the boy a simple task would distract him from the dramatic situation and help him feel useful. She intentionally directed him away from where she was headed so he wouldn’t see what she was about to do.
She crouched beside the woman lying on the wet, slippery rocks. There was no stream or creek nearby, but the stones were indeed damp and slick. The woman lay awkwardly on her side, and a significant amount of blood stained the rock beneath her head. Yennefer removed her backpack, placing it on a dry patch of ground, and quickly opened it to prepare the necessary equipment.
“Hey, can you hear me?” she asked, touching the woman’s shoulder.
There was no response. She gently moved the woman’s arm, but there was still no reaction. Slipping on nitrile gloves, Yennefer glanced around, hoping to see the rest of the team, but there was no sign of them nearby.
Leaning closer, she checked the woman’s breathing. She took a pulse oximeter from her medical backpack and clipped it to the woman’s finger. But there wasn’t much else she could do on her own.
“Over here!” Mike’s voice rang out, and through the bushes, Triss appeared.
“Triss, help me!” Yennefer called out, quickly adding, “Great job, Mike! Four more rescuers will join you soon. Stay here and keep an eye out for them.”
Triss ran over, stopping just beside her and scanning the area with visible tension on her face. Yennefer silently appreciated the fact that Triss had taken a basic first aid course. With her help, they should manage.
“What should I do?” Triss asked, ready to act.
“Stabilize her cervical spine. I can’t do much else without that,” Yennefer said calmly, pointing toward a pair of gloves. “Put these on and kneel by her head. You’ll take over my hold. They showed you how to do this, right?”
She looked at Triss and saw focused determination on her face.
“Yes,” Triss confirmed, her voice quieter but resolute.
“Perfect.”
Yennefer gently held the injured woman’s head, securing it to prevent any movement. Once Triss was ready, Yennefer explained in a steady voice:
“Place your hands over mine and take over the hold. Keep her steady, and rest your elbows on your knees for support.”
“Okay,” Triss replied, positioning her hands exactly as instructed.
“You don’t faint at the sight of blood, do you?” Yennefer asked, throwing out the question to ease the tension.
“No,”
“Great. On three, I’ll move my lower hand. Make sure you’ve got a firm hold.” Yennefer waited as Triss adjusted her grip, then added, “Ready? I’ll count: one, two, three.”
With remarkable precision, Yennefer removed her right hand, and Triss kept the woman’s head stable. She didn’t budge an inch.
“All right, now the other hand. One, two, three.”
The woman’s head now rested securely in Triss’s hands. Yennefer glanced at her. Her face was focused, though it was clear the situation had left a strong impression on her.
“Excellent. Hold her like that and don’t move. When the other rescuers arrive, someone will take over for you,” Yennefer said in a calm tone while quickly performing a trauma assessment. “Keep her head in a natural position, aligned with her spine.”
Unfortunately, the head wound and asymmetrical pupils were troubling signs.
“I’m going to put a cervical collar on her now, but you need to keep holding her, Triss. Got it?”
“Yes,” Triss replied, not taking her eyes off her hands.
Yennefer quickly changed into clean gloves and retrieved a cervical collar from her backpack. She adjusted its size to ensure the proper fit, then carefully slid it under the woman’s neck. Thankfully, there was enough space between the rock and her neck to do this smoothly.
“Don’t let go, Triss. Keep her steady the whole time,” Yennefer reminded her as she secured the collar.
“I’ve got her,” Triss confirmed with conviction.
Yennefer exhaled deeply. Everything was proceeding according to plan, and Triss was handling herself remarkably well despite the tense situation.
Both of them leaned over the woman, their shoulders almost touching. Yennefer was aware of their closeness but remained entirely focused on the injured woman. The uneven pupils suggested a skull fracture and possible internal bleeding.
They needed to get her to a hospital as soon as possible.
“Eskel, this is Yennefer,” she called over the radio, her voice firm but tinged with urgency.
“Go ahead.”
“How much longer?”
“I’ll be there in a minute with the stretcher.”
Yennefer reached for gauze and bandages, carefully maneuvering her hands so as not to bump or disturb Triss, who still held the woman’s head in a stabilized position. She quickly applied a dressing to the head wound and rechecked the woman’s breathing and pupils. She cursed silently under her breath.
“Over here!” the boy’s shout suddenly rang out.
Eskel emerged from the bushes, carrying a basket stretcher, which he quickly set down next to the backpack.
“What’s the situation?” he asked, glancing at the injured woman.
“Unconscious, head injury, uneven pupils. We need to get her to the ambulance as quickly as possible,” Yennefer replied, her voice quick and decisive.
“All right, give her oxygen while I get the stretcher ready.”
Yennefer efficiently placed an oxygen mask on the woman and connected it to the portable tank. Then she moved to the other side of the injured woman. The rocks were extremely slippery, so she took extra care.
“Triss, can you hold her head steady while we move her?” Eskel asked, looking at the journalist.
“Yes.”
“Eskel, let’s get her onto the spine board,” Yennefer said with a determined tone.
“Got it.”
Eskel leaned over the injured woman and slid the spine board behind her back, maneuvering it between the rocks. The fact that she was lying on her side made the process easier.
“On three, we’ll roll her onto her back. Slowly and steadily, so she’s on the board,” Eskel explained. “Triss, you count and keep her head stable. Ready? Count us in.”
“One, two, three.”
Yennefer gently pushed the woman’s body while Eskel held the board firmly, helping to turn her. They worked in complete focus, carefully coordinating their movements to match the pace set by Triss.
A few seconds later, the woman was lying flat on the spine board, and Eskel kept it stable on the uneven rocks. Yennefer immediately reached for the head immobilizers, eager to relieve Triss of the responsibility as quickly as possible.
“You can let go now, thank you,” she said, giving Triss a brief but genuine smile. “Triss, please go talk to the boy and help calm him down.”
Triss nodded, though her gaze lingered on the woman lying on the spine board. She seemed slightly dazed by the whole situation.
“Triss?” Yennefer asked while quickly fastening the head stabilizing straps. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m going,” Triss replied softly and began to stand.
“Gloves,” Yennefer reminded her with a patient smile.
Triss paused to remove her gloves properly, placing them in the designated waste container in Yennefer’s backpack.
Meanwhile, Yennefer and Eskel swiftly continued their work. They placed the spine board with the injured woman into the basket stretcher, carefully covered her with an NRC blanket, and secured her with straps, periodically checking her vital signs. They positioned the oxygen tank beside her thigh, securing it to prevent movement during transport.
“Yennefer, stay by her head while we carry her. Can you manage?” Eskel asked, glancing at her with tension in his eyes.
“Yes,” Yennefer replied quickly, fastening her backpack and glancing over at Triss and the boy. She heard Eskel relaying updates to the base over the radio, but she couldn’t waste any time. “Triss, take the backpack, okay?”
“Sure.” Triss jogged over and slung the pack onto her shoulders, wincing slightly at its weight but saying nothing.
“Take the boy by the hand and lead him up through those trees,” Yennefer directed, pointing out the path. “You’ll reach the main trail and wait for us there.”
“Got it,” Triss nodded, quickly taking the boy’s hand.
“Be careful,” Yennefer cautioned, watching them set off before returning her focus to the stretcher.
Together with Eskel, she lifted the stretcher, and they began ascending the uneven, steep terrain. Every step required complete concentration, and the combined weight of the patient and the equipment demanded synchronized effort. In the background, faint, distant rumbles of thunder began to echo. Yennefer felt her stomach tighten with unease. It wasn’t just the storm, but also the serious condition of the patient.
When three additional volunteers joined them, they all took hold of the stretcher, relieving Yennefer and Eskel. Eskel moved to the side to monitor the patient’s condition, while the team began the arduous climb to the main trail. Yennefer quickened her pace, eager to catch up to Triss, the boy, and Pontar, who were already farther ahead.
When they reached the main trail, the quad was parked next to the off-road vehicle. Triss was still keeping an eye on the boy, while Yennefer quickly began preparing the vehicle for transport. Over the radio, she coordinated with dispatch, confirming that a police patrol would be waiting by the road to take care of the boy and drive him back to his parents.
“Can I call my mom?” the boy suddenly asked, his voice tinged with fear.
“Don’t worry. The police officers will explain everything and take you to your mom,” Yennefer said, sitting him on the quad’s trailer and handing him a bottle of water.
“Thank you.” The boy shivered slightly.
Dark clouds were closing in quickly, and the wind was picking up, carrying with it the promise of an approaching storm. Yennefer felt a familiar tension in her neck as another deep rumble of thunder rolled through the area. Thankfully, a few seconds later, the rescuers emerged from the forest with the stretcher.
The rest of the operation proceeded efficiently and smoothly. The woman and the boy were loaded into the vehicle, with Triss and Dorian in the back. The rescuer monitored the woman’s vital signs, while Triss held the exhausted boy on her lap. Yennefer mounted the quad with another rescuer, holding Pontar on her knees as they carefully descended to the base of the trail.
Down by the main road, the woman, and the boy were handed over to the paramedics and police. The rescuers quickly checked their equipment, ensuring nothing was missing or damaged. Once everything was accounted for, they climbed into their vehicles and began the journey back to their bases.
Dark clouds chased their Toyota, gathering low over the mountain ridges. Yennefer sat in silence, watching as the sky slowly change. The clouds seemed almost within reach, as if they were trying to seize control of the landscape. Eskel, behind the wheel, glanced at her occasionally. He understood. Everyone at the station did, and Yennefer was grateful no one mentioned it.
The drive back felt longer, but they made it to the station before the storm broke overhead. Yennefer felt a wave of relief. Thankfully, it wasn’t a severe storm. A quick check of the radar confirmed it was only a level one out of five. The rain cooled the air, making it more pleasant, and neither the wind nor lightning posed a significant threat.
Yennefer stayed in the garage, listening to raindrops tap against the metal doors and large windows. Each drop marked time like a metronome, soothing her tense nerves. She felt her breathing slow and her heartbeat settle into its normal rhythm.
Triss slipped into the garage quietly, and she stopped beside Yennefer, following her gaze through the window. For a moment, they shared a comfortable silence.
“You were amazing out there in the forest,” Yennefer said suddenly, keeping her eyes fixed ahead.
“Me? I didn't really do anything…” Triss replied, taken aback.
“Triss, your help meant I could attend to her immediately. Those few minutes can mean the difference between life and death.”
Triss remained quiet, then lifted her eyes to meet Yennefer's, her expression a blend of uncertainty and hope.
“Will she survive?” she asked softly.
“I don't know, Triss,” Yennefer replied honestly. “It depends on the severity of the head injury.” She held Triss's gaze, noting her troubled expression. “But try not to dwell on it. We did everything possible. With you, I do more than I could have done alone. The rest isn't in our hands. There's no use torturing yourself over it.”
“So… what now?” Triss asked quietly.
“Now,” Yennefer said, placing a hand on Triss's shoulder, “we get something to eat and have coffee. Life goes on. We might get another call any minute. Don't overthink it.”
“That's hard.”
“I know,” Yennefer said with a gentle smile. “That's why you need to trust me. Come on, let's grab some lunch. How about pizza?”
Triss turned to her with uncertainty.
“Is that really how it works? After everything… you just go for pizza?”
“Sometimes, yes. And when it's worse, pizza isn't enough, and everyone finds their own way to cope. You need to find your way to back to normal, and I'm here to help. It's the only way we can keep doing this job.”
Triss studied Yennefer, trying to understand this way of living. Finally, she gave a hesitant nod.
“Okay. But you're choosing the pizza.”
Yennefer offered a brief, reassuring smile.
“Deal. Come on, I'm not letting you stand here alone and overthink.”
They turned and walked together toward the dining room. Thunder still rumbled in the distance, but it was softer now, more like a lullaby than a threat. It was a reminder that even the most menacing storms eventually pass. Yennefer knew this better than anyone else.
Chapter 9
Notes:
The final chapter of the year!
This is one of two chapters in this story that are especially important to me, but I’ll share much more about that in the notes at the end. Please let me know what you think—even just one word is enough! Thank you so much for all your support and for simply being here. This year has been quite tough for me, and I hope the next one will be better for all of us.
Wishing you all the best in the New Year—lots of health and love! 💜
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Having Triss along for the rescue mission proved advantageous. Not only did Yennefer get the exact help she needed, but Eskel also witnessed firsthand how well the journalist handled herself in the field. He now knew Triss could be a valuable asset who maintained her professionalism under pressure. The only drawback was Eskel's specialty in cave rescue operations, and those weren’t something Triss was likely to join anytime soon. Unless, she was content to spend hours sitting at the cave’s entrance, waiting for updates. A role she could just as easily fulfill from the base with a radio in hand.
Yennefer had been observing Triss closely after their shared mission. Though the accident hadn't been severe, the victim's head injury had posed a real threat to her life. Yennefer could have checked on the woman's condition afterward—her emergency services connections made such information readily available—but she deliberately avoided it. It was a bad habit that led to unnecessary emotional attachment and made moving on more difficult.
Throughout the day, Triss had been quieter than usual. By the end of the shift, however, as Yennefer walked her to her car in the parking lot, the journalist had returned to her usual self. They shared casual conversation, with Triss joking about dodging puddles from the earlier storm.
Yennefer opened her car door, and Pontar hopped inside. The dog settled onto the back seat with practiced ease, immediately curling up in his usual spot. She noticed the seat covers, now blanketed in thick fur, and sighed. The battle against dog hair never ended.
“Where'd you scrape up your ride like that?” Triss's question interrupted Yennefer's thoughts. The journalist was bent over the rear wheel well, examining something.
Yennefer knew she hadn't scraped her car anywhere. A familiar unease crept in, reminiscent of when she'd found the flat tire. She joined Triss, crouching beside her. A deep scratch extended from the wheel well to the rear taillight. The heat rising in her chest wasn't the warmth she sometimes felt around Triss. It was fear. She resisted the urge to scan the parking lot nervously.
Her finger traced the scratch, its jagged edges rough against her skin. The once-pristine paint was ruined.
“Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, crouching lower to inspect the damage.
This wasn’t the kind of mark you got by accidentally brushing against something. Her car had been parked at the store lot the day before, but the scratch didn’t look like the result of a careless driver. This was deliberate. The key question was: was it random, or not? Her gut told her it wasn’t. But who would want to target her? She hadn’t crossed anyone lately… had she?
“It’s just a car,” Triss said lightly, breaking the tense silence.
“Just a car,” Yennefer echoed, straightening up. Her shoulders felt as though they were bound with a taut rope, the tension refusing to let her go. She recognized this feeling, this paralyzing weight.
Anxiety.
“I know a good body shop,” Triss laughed, pulling out her phone. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly a parking prodigy.”
Yennefer took out her phone, but fixing the scratch was the last thing on her mind.
Who had done this? And why?
“Yennefer?” Triss’s voice grew softer but more concerned.
“Sorry.” Yennefer stepped back from the car. “It’s just… every time things start to fall into place, something has to go wrong.”
“We all feel that way sometimes. Don’t let it get to you.”
“It’s hard,” she echoed Triss’s words with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Triss swatted her arm, feigning outrage.
“Don’t laugh at me!”
“I’m not laughing at you, Triss…” Yennefer said, her tone serious. She rubbed her face and cast one last glance at the car. “I’m just… tired?”
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. She was tired, though it felt wrong to offer Triss a half-truth.
They said their goodbyes briefly before getting into their respective cars. Triss pulled out of the parking lot first, and Yennefer hesitated, checking each mirror before buckling her seatbelt. No, she couldn’t drive in silence; it would drive her crazy. Flipping through playlists on her phone, nothing seemed to match her strange, unsettled mood.
She really needed something to pull her out of her thoughts…
Ciri’s playlist.
She cranked up the volume as the opening chords of “Let It Go” from Frozen filled the car. Instantly, she saw an image of Ciri dressed as Elsa—wearing a sparkly blue dress adorned with glitter and shining stars. It felt like just yesterday, though time had a cruel way of rushing forward. She remembered how they used to run around the house with Cerys, reenacting the movie’s scenes and knowing the lines by heart.
Yennefer loved those songs for that very reason. They reminded her of carefree, joy-filled moments.
The songs worked their magic. By the time Yennefer was halfway home, she was quietly singing along, finding new meaning in the familiar lyrics. The tension in her chest loosened a little, and she felt calm.
But when she pulled into her driveway and the memory of the scratch on her car resurfaced, her mood darkened again.
It wasn’t often that she parked in the garage during her weeklong shifts, but tonight she wanted to shield the car, to protect her safe space. Protecting it felt like protecting herself.
She let Pontar out of the car and drove into the garage, closing the big door behind her. It gave her a small sense of relief, though not the peace she had hoped for. The setting sun filtered through the lingering clouds, casting warm hues across the sky.
A shower and some sleep. She’d deal with the car later, on her day off. For now, there was nothing more she could do.
Wednesday, July 10, 8:00 a.m.
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
The next day, the station’s alarm jolted Yennefer out of her thoughts. Storm warnings had been upgraded to Level Four on the five-point scale, and it was hard for her to focus on anything. She sprinted to the duty room, where Crach was already waiting with the details. Besides her, only Chireadan and Iorweth remained at the station. The other eight rescuers were still involved in the cave operation, where two exhausted cave explorers had become trapped at the final choke point, unable to get out on their own.
“I’ve got a report from the ‘Rescue Now’ app,” Crach said, turning to them. “The location is showing the eastern face of Owl Mountain’s peak. Unfortunately, the phone number is unreachable, so I don’t have any further details. Yennefer and Iorweth, you’re heading out to investigate. My guess is: It’s a climbing accident.” He turned back to his paperwork. “Chireadan, be ready to join them if needed, but stay at the base for now. I’ve already alerted the volunteers to be on standby.”
Yennefer felt a double surge of adrenaline hit her system. She hated responding to calls in storms, but she’d had a bad feeling about this day since the morning.
Ten minutes later, they were already in the Land Rover, following a narrow trail toward the peak. Clouds, harbingers of a powerful storm front, had been blanketing the sky since early morning. The dense forest covering the slope made the surroundings unnervingly dark.
“This is as far as we go,” Iorveth finally announced, cutting the engine. Yennefer saw the road ahead narrowing into a rocky path, scattered with loose stones, unsuitable even for their off-road vehicle. “Grab the R1 pack and splints. I’ll take the ropes. We’ll come back for the stretcher if we need it.”
“Got it. I’ll radio the station.” She reached for the radio clipped to her shoulder, doing her best to ignore the low growl of thunder in the distance.
“Central, this is Yennefer.”
“Reading you loud and clear.”
“We’ve reached the location. Proceeding on foot. Any updates?”
“Still no response from the phone. We’re continuing to try to make contact.”
“Understood.”
She took a deep breath, refocusing on the task at hand. They moved quickly along the trail. The loose stones beneath their boots and the uneven terrain demanded constant attention. Iorweth led the way, occasionally calling out warnings about unstable spots. The climb with her heavy pack was grueling, but years of experience had conditioned her to bear the weight without much thought.
As they neared the summit, the forest thinned, giving way to scattered trees, small boulders, and an expansive, breathtaking view. But this time, neither of them stopped to admire the scenery. They stopped because what lay before them was far from beautiful. It was terrifying.
“Fuck,” Iorveth muttered. Yennefer couldn’t find the words to respond.
Right in front of them loomed a massive shelf cloud. Its white cap stood out starkly, streaked with turquoise against the navy-blue sky. It was close. Far too close.
“Quick, come on!” Iorveth grabbed her hand, snapping her out of her stunned state. They ran toward the eastern cliff, frantically scanning their surroundings.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Yennefer shouted, glancing down the sheer drop while trying not to think about the monstrous storm cloud hurtling toward them. It loomed so low that the peak would likely vanish into it entirely. The thought of lightning strikes made her heart race.
Iorveth was inspecting the rock face, speaking with Crach over the radio. When he returned to her, his voice carried an edge of unease. Something wasn’t right… There were no signs of a climber: no ropes, no gear. Nothing.
“I’ve got the exact coordinates. It’s here,” he said, taking a few steps to the left and leaning over the edge. “Is anyone there?” he called out again.
“What do we do?” Yennefer asked.
“I’m going down to check.”
“Iorveth, that storm will be on us any second,” Yennefer said, striving to keep her tone professional, though fear tightened around her throat like a vice.
“We’ll build a station here. Quickly. Help me.”
She clenched her jaw and took the rope he handed her. They found a stable anchor point in one of the rocks. As she finished securing the station, Iorveth was already strapping on his harness and clipping into the rope. She handed him her pack.
“Be careful.”
“Relax, Yenna. Just keep me secured. I’m only taking a brief look.”
She followed him to the edge, holding the rope and controlling his descent as he instructed.
She glanced up for just a moment and immediately regretted it. The leading edge of the storm was bearing down on them, giving them, at most, ten minutes before it struck with full force.
Turning her gaze back down, she watched Iorveth’s figure grow smaller as he descended. His bright red uniform stood out starkly against the gray rock. Suddenly, her radio crackled sharply.
“Yennefer to Central,”
“Stop!” she shouted to Iorveth, immediately locking the rope. She reached for the radio clipped to her shoulder. “Go ahead.”
“It’s a false alarm. There’s no one there. Get out of there now!”
“Understood.”
Her heart pounded like a drum. She shouted down to Iorveth, pulling the rope with all her strength to help him climb faster. Thank God it was him. He was the fastest and most skilled of them all.
When he reached the edge, she dropped to her knees to help haul him up. She bit her cheek so hard she could taste blood. The cloud was nearly on top of them. Apart from the deep, relentless rumble and distant flashes of lightning, the air was eerily still, as though everything was holding its breath, waiting for what was about to come.
“Leave it! Unclip and let’s go!”
“We can take the ropes, Yenna...”
“Life is more important than ropes! Please!” Her shout cut through the air just as a lightning bolt lit up the entire area around them, making both of them instinctively flinch.
“Run! To the car!” Iorveth shouted, freeing the rope from the descender on his harness. Yennefer grabbed the second rope bag, still unused, and started sprinting downhill. Iorveth left the anchored rope secured to the rock and followed her, his pack on his back and harness still strapped on. The metallic clinking of the carabiners at his belt set the frantic rhythm of their retreat. Behind them, the storm growled ominously.
Halfway to the car, the storm hit them with full force. A wall of rain and wind that left them trapped. No longer at the summit, but still far from the safety of the vehicle. The rain poured down so heavily that they could barely see anything around them. The trail they had descended moments ago had transformed into a raging stream in the blink of an eye.
Yennefer slipped on the rocks several times, sharp pain shooting through her ankle, but the fear coursing through her was stronger than any physical sensation.
The lightning came almost without pause now, the sky illuminated continuously. There were no single flashes anymore. Just varying intensities of light, as if someone were toying with a massive dimmer switch. The thunder had blended into an unending roar. Wind snapped branches like twigs, flinging them through the air as if they weighed nothing. Both of them were soaked to the bone, and the warm air had turned icy and biting.
When they finally reached the car, they practically dove inside, slamming the doors shut behind them. For a moment, they just sat there, unmoving. It lasted only a second, but for Yennefer, it felt like an eternity.
A particularly bright flash lit up the forest around them, followed almost instantly by a deafening thunderclap that seemed to explode directly overhead. Iorveth started the engine, his movements calm but swift, and turned on the windshield wipers. They struggled against the torrent, unable to keep up with the sheer volume of water. The headlights were almost useless. The downpour limited their visibility to just a few meters ahead. The trail ahead resembled a river.
Yennefer reached for the radio, but there was no signal. Her fingers trembled as she pulled her waterlogged phone from her jacket pocket. Miraculously, it still worked. Seeing a series of missed calls, she quickly dialed Phillipa.
“Are you okay?” Phillipa’s voice was tense.
“Yeah, fuck, this is like a horror movie,”
“Get back to the base, carefully. Don’t wait for it to pass.”
“Understood.”
She ended the call, and looked at the nightmarish scene ahead. The road was a vision of chaos. Yennefer watched Iorveth’s focused face, but she could feel the memories clawing their way back to her. The same electricity in the air, the same ozone scent from that day sixteen years ago.
The vehicle slid on the muddy, waterlogged ground, branches cracking under the tires like brittle bones. The sound was creepy, cut through even the roaring storm. Despite the chaos, Iorveth remained in control, steering with precision.
When they finally emerged from the forest onto the main road, a violent gust of wind slammed into the vehicle, rocking it like a toy.
Yennefer sat tensely, wound tighter than a spring, saying nothing. She didn’t want to distract Iorveth. She was grateful for his composure, knowing he was maintaining it for her sake as well. Even though they had left the forest, the main road wasn’t much better. Water rushed over the asphalt like a river, and broken branches littered the road. In her mind, she begged for just two things: no falling trees, no obstacles blocking the road.
Crach’s words echoed in her head.
A false alarm.
Someone had deliberately sent them to that summit. Someone wanted them there when the storm hit. A cold shiver ran down her spine, one that had nothing to do with her drenched clothing.
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to steady her breathing. The scratch on her car, the flat tire, the false call during a storm… These couldn’t be coincidences. Someone was trying… She shook her head sharply. No, she couldn’t let her thoughts spiral now. She needed to stay alert and focused on the road ahead.
Another gust of wind buffeted the car, and Yennefer tightened her grip on the handle above the door. A cracking sound somewhere nearby signaled a tree snapping under the storm’s fury. Iorveth steered steadily, but the visibility was terrible—the headlights illuminated only a wall of rain and swirling leaves. Thin trees along the roadside bent nearly to the ground under the relentless wind.
The radio hissed uselessly. They were cut off, reliant only on themselves. Just like on that mountain… No, she couldn’t think about that. But the memories forced their way in—helplessness, fear, the feeling of being at someone else’s mercy. The spiral fed itself, pulling her deeper.
Stop it, Yennefer.
“We’re almost there,” Iorveth’s voice broke through her racing thoughts.
He sounded calm. Too calm.
They pulled into the garage, and the storm’s roar became muffled, distant. Yennefer noticed the lack of other vehicles, meaning the team from the cave rescue hadn’t returned yet. She opened the Land Rover’s door, feeling the tension in her body shift into a heavy weight.
“Yennefer?” Iorveth’s voice broke through the buzzing in her head.
“False alarm,” she said flatly, stepping out. The moment her foot hit the ground, pain shot through her right ankle.
“Fuck,” she hissed, more out of frustration with herself than the pain. She leaned against the car for support.
“Sit down,” Iorveth was at her side instantly. His hands steadied her by the shoulders, guiding her back to the passenger seat.
“I’m fine.”
“Let me check.” He crouched in front of her. His tone was calm, typical of a rescuer addressing an injured person. She knew what he was doing, but still, he treated her like one of his patients. Yennefer huffed softly but let him work. She watched his movements, her own breathing gradually slowing as she listened to his voice.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, gently moving her ankle and watching her reaction.
“No, it’s fine,” she replied more evenly. She knew he was right. It wasn’t serious.
“Is everything okay?” Phillipa’s voice startled her. Yennefer looked up to see not only her boss’s sharp gaze, but also Triss’s concerned eyes.
“Probably just a strain,” Iorveth answered, patting her shoulder as he stood. “Rest and put a cold compress on it. I’ll handle the rest.”
Phillipa narrowed her eyes at Yennefer. “Do you need an ambulance?”
“I’m fine, Phil.”
The sound of Phillipa’s phone ringing interrupted the exchange. She excused herself with a quick gesture and left the garage.
“Thank you,” Yennefer said quietly to Iorveth.
She reached for her boot, sliding it back on carefully. Her ankle showed no swelling or signs of injury. Nothing concerning. She’d manage. The damp, cold boot was uncomfortable, but it was the least of her problems. Especially since she could feel the intense gaze of one particular person lingering on her.
“I’ll help you,” Triss said, extending a hand and trying to mask her concern, but Yennefer could see it clearly. Triss’s emotions were written all over her face, as if it were an open book.
Yennefer accepted the offered hand and rose slowly. She leaned against the car door, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds around her. The rain continued to hammer against the garage walls, the storm still raging outside. But here, within these concrete walls, in her own world, she felt safer.
Opening her eyes, she carefully shifted her weight onto her injured leg. Slowly, under control. She could walk, she just had to be mindful of sudden movements.
“Let me support you,” Triss’s voice was soft and gentle.
“I can manage,” Yennefer replied reflexively.
“I know, but I’m worried about you, Yen.”
Yennefer stopped, meeting Triss’s gaze. There was something in her eyes, in the way she stood close but didn’t overstep an invisible boundary. It felt… right. Yennefer didn’t need to defend herself or prove her strength. Not here, not with her. Just like that day in her own home, she could allow herself to feel everything... the anger bubbling within her, and maybe a touch of fear.
“I need to change,” she said quietly, her eyes still locked on Triss’s face.
“I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’ll shower and come back down.”
They parted at the stairs. Yennefer made her way up slowly, while Triss headed toward the kitchen, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. Under the hot shower, Yennefer tried to relax, but the pounding storm outside wouldn’t allow her to fully unwind. Instead, she focused on warming up, chasing away the biting cold that had seeped deeper into her than she’d expected.
A few minutes later, dressed in clean clothes with her damp hair falling loosely around her shoulders, she descended to the first floor. The chill in the air made her shiver in just her shirt, so she headed to the gear room. It was a windowless space, completely isolated from the outside world. Here, surrounded by thick walls, at the heart of the station, she finally felt truly safe. The sounds of the storm were distant now, like an echo of a bad memory.
She opened her locker and pulled out a warm fleece sweater, slipping it on before sitting down on the bench. She didn’t want to leave. She braided her wet hair to keep it out of her face. Another rumble of thunder rolled in. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
A fucking false alarm.
She needed answers, to know what had happened. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave. This was her refuge; she wanted to stay here until the end of her shift. Yet, the images from the mountaintop flashed before her eyes with every lightning strike. She didn’t want to see them.
But that cloud… it had been so close she could have touched it.
The door opened slowly. Yennefer leaned forward, pretending to adjust her boot. The emergency pair of heavy trekking boots supported her ankle well enough to make walking easier.
“Pontar was pacing outside the door,” Triss said, her voice gentle. Moments later, the dog padded over to Yennefer, trying to lick her face. She stroked his head, grateful for his presence. “Can I stay? Does your leg hurt?”
“You can,” Yennefer replied softly, watching Triss linger uncertainly in the doorway.
Pontar settled between her legs, gazing up at her with unconditional love. Yennefer ran her fingers through his soft fur, resting her forehead against his head. Triss sat down beside her on the bench, turning slightly to face her. She scooted closer, her knee brushing against Yennefer’s thigh. After a brief hesitation, Triss placed a hand on Yennefer’s back, her fingers moving gently over the thick fabric of the fleece in a soothing gesture.
Yennefer felt the tension slowly ebb away under Triss’s touch. She still held the dog’s muzzle gently in her hands, but the warmth radiating from Triss made something inside her begin to unwind.
“Tell me if you need anything,” Triss whispered.
“I have everything I need right now.”
She heard Triss lean her head back against the metal lockers behind them but could still feel her gaze. Just as she could feel the hand on her back, tracing soothing patterns that seemed to anchor her.
“Do you know how the cave rescue is going?” Yennefer broke the silence, needing a tether to normalcy.
“They reached the injured men. They were exhausted and hypothermic and…” Triss faltered, searching for the right words. Yennefer glanced at her, allowing herself a faint smile. “Well, they stabilized them, right? Protected them from hypothermia? Set up a camp and started preparing for transport?”
“You’re asking me?” Yennefer replied with a hint of amusement, feeling another layer of tension lift. With Triss, everything felt so… easy.
“I don’t know, I was listening to their updates and…” Triss trailed off, her hand pausing momentarily. “Then I heard your terrified voice over the radio, and my brain just… blanked.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be…” Triss shook her head, moving a little closer. “The storm missed them. Roche said it only rained lightly there. They tried to reach you, but couldn’t get through. They were asking about you…”
“Such thoughtful colleagues,” Yennefer muttered, gently tapping Pontar’s nose. Their concern was touching, even if she’d never admit it aloud.
“Yennefer, what’s going on? Or… do you not want to talk about it?”
Yennefer knew exactly what Triss was asking. She considered for a moment whether now was the right time to tell the story—or if there would ever be a good time. She felt Triss’s hand still on her back, waiting for an answer. Everyone else already knew, except Triss. She deserved to know. Yennefer wanted her to know. It would help her understand.
“You say observation is part of your job. So, what do you see?” Yennefer asked, still leaning forward. She didn’t want to move, not when the comforting touch on her back brought her so much peace.
“You’re afraid of storms?”
Pontar laid down at her feet, resting his head on her boot as she stopped stroking him. Yennefer watched him for a moment, gathering her thoughts. It wasn’t fear—not entirely.
“I’m afraid of storms in the mountains,” she said at last, her voice steady. “I’m not afraid of them here or when I’m at home…”
“Right now, you’re safe…”
“Triss, that cloud at the summit... it was within reach,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact. “I felt like it would swallow us, along with the mountain. It was so close… so beautiful and so… terrifying.”
“I saw it over the station when it came out from behind the forest, and…” Triss stopped mid-sentence.
Yennefer straightened slightly, feeling Triss’s hand slowly retreat. She leaned back against the lockers, tilting her head toward the journalist.
“Do you remember when I told you about the accident that made me become a rescuer?”
“I do.”
“You had your last chance to guess back then, and you didn’t take it.”
“You didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you guessing now?” Yennefer watched Triss's face, noting how she bit her lower lip thoughtfully.
“What if I'm wrong?”
“You won't be. And even if you are, I'll tell you anyway… if you want to know.”
“Clearly it has something to do with the storm, but I can't piece it together.”
“Would getting struck by lightning be a good enough connection?” Yennefer asked in a matter-of-fact tone, as though discussing the weather. She watched Triss’s expression shift from lighthearted to horrified.
“You were… no… Yennefer, that’s…”
“Thankfully, the lightning didn't strike me directly, but that’s how it started,” she said softly. Triss moved closer, her presence quiet and steady.
Exactly what Yennefer needed.
“I was on a school trip in high school,” Yennefer began, her voice calm and deliberate, choosing her words carefully. “I was too confident, too reckless, and too proud to listen to anyone.” She glanced down at her clasped hands.
“We were climbing a peak in the Mahakam range. The summit was hidden in clouds, but hikers coming down told us it was beautiful up there. Sunshine everywhere, and you felt like you were walking on clouds.” Yennefer allowed herself a faint smile. “I had to experience that. I was there with my boyfriend, determined to reach the top. I told him it would be something we'd remember for the rest of our lives. And I do remember every second… just not the way I wanted.”
She paused, glancing at Triss. The journalist sat motionless, her eyes locked on her, full of unwavering attention.
“It was beautiful at the top,” she continued. “I stood above the clouds and felt, for a few seconds, like I ruled the world. Like a queen. I was... so different then, Triss.”
Her hands tightened, nails pressing into her skin.
“Everything changed instantly. There was a flash and a deafening crack. I thought a bomb had exploded, that it was some kind of terrorist attack. My ears rang, and I couldn't see anything. Just emptiness and pain. Fire ripped through my entire body, while every muscle seized at once.”
She spoke with an eerie calmness, as if describing a medical procedure. “When I came to, I was lying on the rocks. I saw Istredd, my boyfriend, crawling away downhill to escape... He left me there. I felt such resentment toward him then. But now I understand. In a life-threatening situation, you either fight, flee, or freeze. He ran. And I froze.”
Yennefer straightened her back. “All I could hear were screams, shrieks, terrified cries. The air smelled of burnt fabric and flesh… and the lightning struck the mountain’s summit mercilessly. People were bleeding, their clothes burned off… I saw a man thrown off the peak by a strike. Two women were taking turns performing CPR on a little boy. I got shocked several more times as electricity traveled through the rocks I was lying on. That first lightning strike had burned off my pants, and it was so goddamn cold.” Her voice trembled slightly as the memory of that icy chill resurfaced. “A man nearby took off his jacket to cover me. He was bleeding from his ears, but he… he just wanted to help.”
Triss leaned closer until her shoulder touched Yennefer’s. Her gaze held understanding, not pity.
“Every time I felt the lightning hit… I was sure I would die. There was no way to survive it. How much can a person endure, Triss? I was convinced that one more strike, maybe two, and my heart would stop, or I’d burn alive.” Yennefer paused, a faint smile crossing her lips as if recalling something pleasant. “And then the helicopter appeared. Beautiful, red and white… Despite the storm, despite the terrible visibility. I felt hope. If they saved me, I promised myself, I’d become one of them. I’d go into the mountains when everyone else was coming down. I’d repay that debt. They just needed to get me off that peak.”
Pontar shifted by her feet, and she instinctively moved her leg to give him more space, lowering her head to look at him.
“I promised them, and I promised myself. All I needed was for that damn helicopter to land and take us away.”
As Yennefer spoke, her hands fidgeted restlessly. Triss noticed and, with gentle deliberation, reached out to still them with her own. She carefully separated Yennefer's hands, taking the right one between both of hers and letting their joined hands rest on Yennefer's thigh. The warmth of Triss's touch spread through her as a thumb traced delicate circles over her knuckles. Yennefer gazed at their intertwined fingers for a moment. It felt... right. Natural. When she finally looked up to meet Triss's eyes, she found them filled with their usual understanding and sincerity.
“The helicopter circled above us and then flew away,” Yennefer continued, her voice quieter now. “Our outstretched hands dropped in despair. People lost hope again, started crying and shouting. Then there was another lightning strike, and I couldn’t react anymore. I wanted to give up when the helicopter came back.” She felt Triss’s grip tighten slightly in reassurance. “It hovered above us, in the middle of that storm, and the rescuer descended on a rope… I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
“Yennefer…” Triss’s voice was soft but firm. She didn’t let go of her hand.
“And then came the anger and disappointment again,” Yennefer went on, watching as Triss’s thumb continued to draw calming patterns on her skin. “Everyone wants to be saved first. All of us on that summit needed help immediately. That rescuer, who had descended into the middle of all that chaos, had to choose who to help and who could wait. He was the one who, after trying, gave up resuscitating that little boy. I’ll never forget the look on one of the women’s faces... it must have been his mother. I can’t imagine what I’d do…”
She broke off, swallowing hard and biting her lip. “And now, every damn time I have to perform triage, whether it’s during a drill or a real operation, I’m that rescuer on that summit. I’m standing there with my small pack, the helicopter hovering above me, the rope dangling down, and the nightmare all around me. And I’m the one who has to decide. I have to choose who gets a chance faster, and who we won’t help anymore.” Her voice still remained steady. “Spending hours extracting someone from a cave is nothing compared to putting a black tag on someone’s arm. That’s your choice. Your responsibility.”
She met Triss’s gaze.
“You never forget those faces, Triss. Never. Just like I’ll never forget that rescuer. He finally came to me, calmed me down. He was kind, smiling. He told me he’d get me out of there, that I’d be in a hospital soon, warm and out of pain. I trusted him like I’ve never trusted anyone else. I wanted him to keep talking to me... I guess that’s why I talk so much to the injured now,” Yennefer said, her eyes back to their joined hands.
“He laid me on the stretcher, covered me with a thermal blanket, and kept asking how I was feeling, if I was comfortable, if anything was pinching or pressing. Then they hoisted us into the helicopter with the rope. The wind swung us from side to side, the storm still raging around us, and I was terrified—but he was calm. That calmness was incredible.” She allowed herself a faint smile. “After I passed my exams to become a rescuer, I went back to that summit, visited the station, and found him. I told him I’d do whatever it took to repay him. He just hugged me and said I’d make an excellent rescuer.”
“He was right,” Triss said softly, her thumb pausing for a moment.
“I try…” Yennefer sighed. “I can’t imagine living any other life, even though it’s so damn hard... Especially when I get called out while I’m home and see the sadness on Ciri’s face. She tries to understand, but… sometimes there’s a moment…”
“Yennefer, she’s just scared she won’t see you again, that if you leave…” Triss’s voice was quiet. “I... I understand her.”
“That’s why I work with a dog, Triss,” Yennefer interrupted, her fingers tightening slightly around Triss’s hand. “I go out the least of the professional rescuers, and I rarely put my life on the line…”
“Like today?” Triss’s voice carried no accusation, only concern.
Their eyes met, inches apart.
“Do you know how scared I was?” Triss asked, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I were in Ciri’s place.”
“Luckily, she doesn’t know what happened today.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Triss broke it with a question:
“How did it end? They took you into the helicopter and brought you to the hospital?”
“Yes,” Yennefer exhaled and continued. “That’s when they found out both my legs were burned, but the burns weren’t severe. I had a fractured tibia from the muscle contractions. Later, at the hospital, I lost my vision and hearing for a few days.”
“What?” Triss flinched, but she didn’t let go of Yennefer’s hand.
“In the hospital, my eyes, and ears started to hurt, like someone was driving nails or shards of glass into them. The pain was unbearable… By morning, I had lost my sight… probably from the flash I saw when the lightning struck. And my eardrum was damaged too. Thankfully, it was temporary, and both my vision and hearing came back eventually. But I didn’t believe it would.” Yennefer’s tone was neutral, clinical, as though she were describing a medical case. “I tried to imagine what my life would look like after all of it, you know… blind and deaf. The thought of being dependent on my parents overwhelmed me so much that I spiraled into a deep depression. And then… lying there in that hospital bed, I thought that it should have been me who died up there, not that little boy.”
“Yen, stop,” Triss leaned closer with her soft voice.
“I don’t think that way anymore,” Yennefer quickly reassured her. “But back then… luckily I had a psychologist by my side the entire time.”
“And your parents?”
“My mother visited me... sometimes. She’d drop off some things and complain about how I’d ruined the birth of her grandchild. How I was always seeking attention... when my sister happened to be giving birth. She’d grumble about how others had it worse than me and then leave.”
Yennefer felt Triss gently wrap an arm around her, as if trying to soothe the pain of those memories. But those memories of her family didn’t hurt anymore. They left nothing behind. Only emptiness.
“I really believed I should have stayed on that mountain. But when I got my sight and hearing back, when they discharged me from that hospital, I had only one goal. I had to achieve it. I had to repay my debt, no matter what.”
Yennefer’s voice grew distant.
“Now, every mass accident takes me back to that day. Luckily, they don’t happen often. However, when they do…” She trailed off, staring into space. “I don’t handle seeing children suffer very well. That little girl we couldn’t save in the bus crash in April… she’s like a ghost. It feels like something’s hanging over me. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t try to race against death, but sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it. That this time, I won’t let it win. I lost in April, but…”
“You didn’t lose,” Triss interrupted gently. “You told me yourself. You can’t do everything.”
“They’re children, Triss,” Yennefer’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, devoid of tears, only fatigue. “Where’s the justice in this world if children have to die?”
Triss held her even tighter, and Yennefer didn’t mind. The journalist didn’t try to console her with empty platitudes, didn’t tell her it would all be okay or that it was meant to be. Instead, she simply stayed by her side, sharing the weight of it all. They sat together, close, listening to the muffled sounds of the storm beyond the walls.
Yennefer’s thoughts slowly began to settle. Maybe this was why she did it all. To make the world, despite its injustices, just a little better. To give more children the chance to make it home.
We are all children, after all.
After a moment of quiet, Triss broke the silence, her voice tentative. “So... pizza?”
“Let's stay here a little longer,” Yennefer replied softly. She felt safe in the small gear room, where the storm was nothing more than a distant echo. “You don't have to sit with me if...”
Triss snuggled into her even more, closing her eyes.
“We're friends, Yen. I'm not going anywhere.” She hesitated for a moment before adding softly, “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
Yennefer didn't respond with words. Instead, she gently tightened her grip on Triss's hand, a faint smile spreading across her face.
We're friends.
It was exactly what she needed to hear. Though unexpected at this moment, Triss's words felt right and true. She needed this.
Outside, the storm raged on, but storms never last forever. Sooner or later, the clouds would part, and the sun would return. Yennefer didn't realize yet that her sun was already here, nestled against her shoulder, chasing away the remnants of her own storm.
Notes:
The description of the storm Yennefer experienced in my story was inspired by the dramatic events that took place on August 22, 2019, in the Tatra Mountains. That day, a storm, though classified as mild, led to one of the greatest tragedies in the history of the Polish mountains. Lightnings struck a metal cross atop Giewont and the mountain's dome, conducting charges to people on the summit and nearby areas. This incident claimed the lives of five people and injured over 150. It was likely one of the most spectacular rescue operations in the history of Polish mountain rescue.
The TOPR (Tatra Volunteer Search and Rescue) team responded to the emergency despite the dire weather conditions, demonstrating extraordinary professionalism and bravery. A rescue helicopter took to the skies despite immense risks. Moreover, the rescue mission on Giewont coincided with another challenging operation – saving cave explorers trapped in the Wielka Śnieżna cave, where water had blocked the exit route for two individuals. The cave rescue began on August 17 and lasted over three weeks, but tragically, cave explorers could not be saved. The effort put forth by the rescuers during this time was unimaginable.
These events are meticulously detailed in the book “TOPR 2 – Nie każdy wróci. (Not Everyone Will Return)” by Beata Sabała-Zielińska, which served as a major inspiration for creating this story. It is a harrowing and moving report, filled with testimonies from witnesses, rescuers, and victims. Reading it, I was in awe of the work of mountain rescuers—most of whom are volunteers dedicating their free time to saving lives. Their calling and sacrifice deserve the highest respect and greater recognition.
Through this story, I aimed to highlight the exceptional work of mountain rescuers. Too little is said about their efforts, even though they are the ones saving lives in the most extreme conditions—heading into the mountains when everyone else is fleeing them.
Mountain storms, though sometimes seemingly mild, carry deadly danger. They can strike suddenly, catching even experienced hikers off guard. Lightning targets the highest points, and a person standing on a mountain peak becomes just such a target. That’s why it’s essential to check the weather forecast before any hike, and never ignore the first signs of an approaching storm. Mountains are beautiful, but they demand respect and caution from us. In the face of nature’s power, we are but small, fragile beings.
Stay safe out there!
Chapter 10
Notes:
How’s life treating you in the New Year?
While writing this chapter, I realized a mistake I’ve been making from the start. I forgot to translate the name Sheala de Tancarville to Síle de Tansarville, but I’ve decided to stick with the original version to avoid any confusion. I hope it doesn’t affect your reading experience in any way. 😅
By the way, I’ve always wondered why names like Filippa and Sheala are translated, rather than left in their original forms (this similarity makes them feel like a perfect match, doesn’t it?) When reading foreign books translated into Polish, names are usually not altered (even if they’re hard to pronounce), so why is it different the other way around? Does anyone know? Do other languages translated into English do this too? Just a little musing I had while writing.
I have to admit, I’ve gotten used to "Philippa" thanks to fanfics, but I only remembered that Sheala has an English equivalent after finishing this chapter translation. I’m pretty sure it’s been "Sheala" in previous chapters too, so I’ll just leave it that way.
Anyway, thank you so much for being here and for reading! I hope you enjoy what’s next! 💜💙
Chapter Text
Thursday brought a small reprieve. Yennefer knew Triss would be at the editorial office, but that didn’t stop her from instinctively glancing toward the station doors, expecting to see her familiar figure. After their conversation the previous evening, everything felt different. Subtly so, but she could sense it. It was as though something had shifted, leaving her mind in a strange state of anticipation, though she couldn’t quite place what she was waiting for.
Shortly after the morning briefing, she headed out with Iorveth to Owl Mountain’s peak. Where yesterday the storm had greeted them with its raw and terrifying power, today the view was breathtaking. Morning mists, remnants of the night’s rain, wove through the pines like silk ribbons. The soft, cotton-like clouds filtered the sunlight, and the limestone cliffs glowed white.
Yennefer had always loved the stark, imposing beauty of high mountains—their inaccessibility and grandeur. But there was something equally captivating about this landscape, with its limestone towers rising amidst the lush green forest. The place that had been the stage for her worst memories just a day ago now exuded serenity.
She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. It was perfect, like something from the cover of a nature magazine. Without thinking, she sent it to Triss.
'Yesterday a nightmare, today pure magic.'
She typed the words quickly, then lingered for a moment, watching the mist as it embraced the slopes.
As they gathered the ropes they had hastily left behind the day before, Yennefer reflected on the events from yesterday. A false alarm. Crach had explained to her that morning, that a group of teenagers had been testing the emergency app. When it worked, they panicked, turned off their phones, and went home. Luckily, one of them had turned his phone back on before the storm reached the peak.
A few years ago, when the app was new, such incidents had been common. People tested it from every corner of the country. Now it was rare, but evidently, it still happens.
Thankfully, the trip hadn’t been as ominous as she had feared. No one had deliberately sent them into the storm. Maybe the scratches on her car, the flat tire… maybe those really were just coincidences.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Triss.
'It’s stunning! I wish I could be there with my camera!'
Yennefer couldn’t help but smile.
They returned to the base and busied themselves with the equipment. The day passed quietly, without alarms. Late in the afternoon, Triss arrived as usual, carrying a paper box of donuts for everyone.
“Hi,” she said, approaching Yennefer's chair where she sat reading. “I brought you something sweet to cheer you up.”
“I don't need cheering up,” Yennefer replied without looking up from her book, though the corners of her mouth twitched in a smile.
“Of course not,” Triss said with a grin, opening the box as Yennefer reached for an enormous glazed donut. “You’re the picture of joy.”
Yennefer glanced up at her, ready to retort, but before she could, Syanna walked into the room.
“Hey, Triss. Can we work on that article now?”
“Of course, thanks,” Triss replied, turning toward the other woman.
Yennefer watched as the two of them sat down at a small table. Triss pulled a laptop out of the bag slung over her shoulder and began showing something to Syanna. Yennefer kept eating her donut, pretending to return to her book while carefully trying not to smudge the pages with glaze. Yet, her gaze kept wandering back to the two women bent over the laptop.
Syanna leaned closer, pointing at the screen and explaining something with visible excitement. Triss nodded, a slight furrow forming between her brows as she focused, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. They were sitting so close their shoulders touched. Neither of them seemed to notice. Only Yennefer—watching from a distance—did.
She stared blankly at the words on the page, trying to organize her thoughts. Syanna was close to Triss, far too close… She felt a sharp pang in her chest and immediately chastised herself for it. She couldn’t be jealous of her friend. And yet… wasn’t this how it always went? Whenever a relationship grew too close, she reacted with jealousy. Every friendship with another woman, even casual school connections, had ended the same way—with that irrational, painful feeling. All of them, except for Phillipa. But then, she’d had Geralt back then. Maybe that was why?
Was it normal to be this jealous of friends? Deep down, she’d always known this feeling was too intense, too consuming. She’d always felt like something about her was fundamentally wrong. Other people didn’t seem to act this way. And now, with Triss, knowing exactly where they stood, that same familiar ache was there again. It was terrifyingly recognizable. She felt as if some picture in her mind was coming into sharper focus, but she still couldn’t make out what it was or where it came from.
Damn it.
Triss laughed at something Syanna had shown her, and that sound snapped Yennefer back to reality. She closed her book with a deliberate motion and left the room, using the excuse of washing her hands after the snack. She didn’t return, though. Instead, she wandered into the duty room and spent the rest of the time chatting with Crach about his vacation plans and how Cerys would happily spend the entire summer living at Yennefer’s place if she let her.
Saturday, July 13, 8:00 a.m.
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
She was relieved when Saturday finally arrived, the last day of her shift. This week had been unusually intense, and Yennefer had reached her limit for both the chaos and the flood of emotions. It felt as though her capacity for everything—stress, tension, adrenaline—had been completely maxed out.
The first call came quickly, barely a few minutes after the briefing. The rescuers were still checking their gear when Crach’s slightly distorted voice echoed through the speakers, summoning the climbing team for a response. They moved quickly toward the corridor, eager to get to the duty room and find out what had happened. Meanwhile, the rest of the rescuers stayed in the garage, opening gates and preparing everything, so the team could depart without delay.
When they returned to the garage, Chireadan, visibly energized, glanced at Triss, who was standing beside Yennefer near the backpack rack. As always in moments like these, Triss looked utterly captivated by what was happening, as if trying to absorb and memorize every detail.
“Coming along, Triss?” Chireadan asked briskly, grabbing his gear.
“Can I?” she replied, looking first at him, then at Yennefer, as if seeking her approval.
“I won’t ask twice,” he said with a grin, nodding toward the red off-road car.
Yennefer reached for a helmet she had set aside for Triss some time ago. When she turned back to hand it to her, she caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes and offered a reassuring smile. She knew Triss would be fine.
“Take care of yourself,” she said, handing over the helmet and gently nudging her toward the truck. “They won’t wait for you, hurry.”
Triss brushed Yennefer’s hand as she took the helmet. Her fingers were cold, a clear sign that adrenaline was already coursing through her veins, taking control. Without saying a word, she nodded and ran to the vehicle. Moments later, the sound of sirens cut through the air, and the vehicle sped off.
Yennefer stood with her arms crossed, chewing her lip as she watched the vehicle disappearing beyond the station gates. She was surprised that Triss had been invited to join the mission. But if anyone was going to make such a quick decision, it was Chireadan.
After a moment, she turned on her heel and headed to talk Crach. She needed to know exactly what had happened and what the mission entailed. Her curiosity grew with every step.
“The boy called, panicking on the wall,” Crach explained as soon as she approached. “He’s stuck. Can’t climb up or down.”
Yennefer felt a wave of relief wash over her. It was a straightforward technical rescue. If the boy was holding on and properly secured, all he needed to do was wait for someone to help him descend. No injuries, no blood, no worst-case scenarios.
“That’s good,” she said calmly.
“Everything’s under control, Yenna. Chireadan asked if Triss could join,” Crach replied. “It’s a perfect chance for her to see something other than a dog running through the woods.”
Yennefer gave him a playful swat on the arm, feigning indignation. Her eyes shifted to the shepherd lying in his usual favorite corner.
“Come on, Pontar, let’s train while it’s still cool out,” she called to him. If Crach had brought up the dog, she thought a quick training session might be the perfect way to occupy her mind.
Pontar lifted his head to look at her, but his expression clearly lacked enthusiasm. Slowly, he got up, stretching lazily before padding over to her. Yennefer smirked to herself and scratched him behind the ears.
“She won’t even let you nap, huh?” Crach commented, his eyes still on the documents in front of him.
“We’ll finish quickly, and then he’ll be free,” she explained, looking at Pontar. “Besides, it’s still nice out now.”
“The heat’s not coming back until next week,” Crach added. “Just in time for our night shifts.”
“Perfect,” Yennefer said, gesturing for Pontar to follow her. They walked out calmly, but as she entered the corridor, she caught the faint sound of the radio crackling and Iorveth’s voice reporting that they had arrived at the scene.
For a brief moment, she considered going back to grab her own radio but dismissed the thought quickly. The call was simple, low-risk. There was no reason to worry.
Still, as she stepped outside, she couldn’t shake the nagging sense of responsibility she felt for Triss’s safety. No one had officially tasked her with looking out for her, yet the protectiveness lingered, like an instinct she couldn’t quite ignore. Why did she feel so responsible for her?
The climbing team returned from the rescue over three hours later. Yennefer was in the middle of organizing equipment in the gym when she heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. Moments later, Triss appeared in the doorway, her face glowing with excitement. She was flushed and sweaty from the effort, but Yennefer couldn’t help but notice how incredible she looked. The pink in her cheeks, the damp hair sticking to her neck… It stirred a familiar warmth in Yennefer, one she didn't try quite as hard to suppress this time.
Yen! You should’ve been there! It was spectacular!” Triss exclaimed breathlessly, stepping closer. “They took these ropes, did… something with them, and suddenly this fantastic mechanism was built that lowered the rescuer so smoothly and precisely! They combined three ropes into one… I have no idea how it works, but it does! Chireadan went down to get the guy, while Roche and Iorveth managed everything from above and had Syanna watching the knots. Then Chireadan clipped the guy to himself, like he was some kind of backpack—” she giggled, “—and they both came down together. Slowly, of course, but still. Everyone’s safe.”
Yennefer felt her lips tug upward into a wider smile. Triss’s enthusiasm was contagious, and her joy had an oddly calming effect. All those physical reactions Yennefer had once tried so hard to suppress now felt inconsequential compared to the simple pleasure of listening to Triss’s voice and seeing her genuine excitement. She had stopped trying to fight it; there was no point. It didn’t work, and the effort it required had drained her far more than just accepting her feelings. Once she let go, Triss’s presence had become natural, even comfortable. And surprisingly normal.
“For a moment, I thought I might get to go down on the rope too,” Triss laughed, leaning against the wall. “But honestly, I think I would’ve been scared. And being strapped to one of the guys? That would’ve been weird. I don’t think Syanna could’ve lifted me, either. The way they packed up afterward, joking like nothing had happened—it’s so typical of you all. That ridiculous sense of humor. Then we had to hike back down. The wall wasn’t that tall, but to get to the top of the mountain, we had to take this roundabout trail. Seriously, I’ve done more steps today than I usually do in a week,” she added, glancing at her fitness tracker.
Yennefer didn’t say anything at first, letting Triss catch her breath, though the silence didn’t last long—as was always the case with her.
“You can do that too, right?” Triss asked, looking at Yennefer with curiosity.
“Do what?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow, amused.
“All those tricks with the ropes and everything.”
Yennefer smirked, allowing herself a little provocation.
“You have no idea what I can do with ropes, Triss.”
Triss blinked, then replied without hesitation, “So, rescue work isn’t your only talent?”
“Definitely not,” Yennefer said with a grin. “What else did you like about the mission?”
Triss perked up, springing from her spot and starting to pace the room. She dove into the details of the operation with such energy that Yennefer found herself sitting down on a bench, crossing her legs and propping her hands on its edge. She just listened. She knew every step of this kind of mission by heart, but the way Triss described it, with her chaotic enthusiasm, made it feel new.
In truth, this version of the story—messy, exuberant, and vibrant—was one she was hearing for the first time. And it felt like the perfect way to close out the week.
She jolted awake, her heart pounding too fast. Fragments of the dream swirled in her mind, disjointed and impossible to piece together. A storm, sharp flashes of lightning splitting the sky, blue eyes staring at her—too close. Heat spreading through her body, not painful but exquisitely pleasant. Then the flashes again, those eyes, and a warmth that had nothing to do with fever or fear.
She rubbed her face with her hands, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. A quick glance at the clock told her it was a few minutes before eight. Far too early for her first day off, but maybe it was for the best… She didn’t feel eager to linger in the clutches of that restless dream.
For a moment, she stayed in bed, savoring the quiet and the softness of the sheets. The cornflower-blue curtains blocked out the morning sun, leaving the room bathed in a soothing dimness. Pontar, noticing she was awake, lifted his head and looked at her hopefully.
“Not yet,” she murmured, rolling onto her stomach and sinking deeper into the pillows.
Still, sleep wouldn’t return. Maybe that was just as well—she wasn’t sure she wanted to know where the dream might have led. Geralt was supposed to bring Ciri back before noon, and she needed to get up anyway. The house needed tidying after a week of day shifts, though it wasn’t particularly messy. It was just that with everything else going on, not everything had been left perfectly in place, and the floors had collected a light layer of white dog hair.
With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed. Coffee. Coffee was non-negotiable. The kitchen was spotless, as usual, but she wiped down the counters anyway, finding a strange kind of calm in the routine. The odd dream still clung to her like a faint shadow. It was those eyes and the lightning—so vivid.
Pontar returned from his morning jaunt around the yard and promptly curled up on the rug in the living room, blending seamlessly into its snowy white color. Yennefer opened the gate in preparation for Geralt’s arrival. Once the house was clean, she sat down at the kitchen table, scrolling through the news on her phone while she waited.
When Geralt’s car pulled into the driveway, she got up and went to the door. As soon as it opened, Ciri jumped out and ran toward her, throwing her arms around Yennefer’s waist and pressing her face into her.
“Can we make lunch together today?” she blurted out suddenly.
Yennefer smiled involuntarily. The lack of a proper greeting was clearly something Ciri had inherited from her, though she’d only realized it after Triss pointed it out at the station.
“We can,” she replied, stepping back and tucking stray strands of her daughter’s hair back into her unruly braid.
“Great! I’ll go change!” Ciri dashed upstairs, stomping as usual. So much for the quiet in the house.
“Hey,” Yennefer said, turning to Geralt, who was making his way toward her.
“Hi,” he greeted her with his usual calm smile. “Can we talk?”
“Sure. Want some coffee?”
Geralt followed her inside and sat at the kitchen island while she pulled mugs from the cabinet. The familiar hiss of the coffee machine filled the kitchen as Yennefer worked.
“Out with it. That sounded ominous,” she said, not turning around.
“You remember the trip I planned with Ciri? To my parents’ cottage by the sea?”
“End of August, right? I remember. What about it?” she asked, handing him a steaming cup.
“We’re short on staff. I have to be on shift.”
Yennefer scoffed, shaking her head as she returned to her own cup.
“Fantastic. Ciri must be thrilled.”
“I checked the schedule. You have night shifts then. Maybe you could take some time off and go with her?”
“What?!” Yennefer spun around abruptly. “Did you already tell her about this?”
“I told her I’d ask you, and…”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” her voice trembled with restrained anger. “If I say I can’t, it’ll all be my fault?”
“Yen…”
“Couldn’t you have asked me first and then talked to her?” Yennefer crossed her arms defensively, glaring at him. “For God's sake, Geralt! If I canceled plans, there’d be hell to pay! But you just say ‘I have a shift,’ and it’s fine?”
“Ciri was happy…”
“Exactly!” Yennefer slapped the countertop. “That’s the problem! She’s happy when it’s you, but with me, it’s always an issue! And if I say I can’t go, I’ll be the villain in this whole situation!”
She realized she was yelling. The tense week behind her didn’t help her keep her emotions in check. Fortunately, Geralt knew her well enough to wait, letting her vent without adding fuel to the fire. Pontar lifted his head, concerned, but didn’t move from his spot. She knew she was overreacting, but the double standard in how Ciri treated them infuriated her.
“Are you done?” Geralt asked at last, once Yennefer slumped into a chair.
“No,” she muttered, though more quietly this time. “No matter what I do, it’s always wrong.”
“No one thinks that.”
“Oh, please!” she shot him a skeptical look, rubbing her temples. “I know what I see. I know how Ciri reacts when I cancel plans or have to leave…”
“If you don’t want to go, my mom will take her, but…”
“No way,” Yennefer cut him off sharply.
“Exactly,” he said, meeting her gaze pointedly. “Neither of us will feel at ease if that happens, so I’d rather you go. You both need the break, Yen. Is that such a bad idea?”
Yennefer huffed, taking a sip of her hot coffee.
“The coast is so boring,” she groaned after a moment.
“You’ll have Ciri. She won’t let you be bored.”
“Won’t let me do what?” Ciri had just come back down to the kitchen, stepping between them. Her presence instantly lightened the mood.
“You want me to go to the coast with you?” Yennefer asked, glancing at Geralt out of the corner of her eye. She did it deliberately, now that Ciri was standing there. If her daughter reacted with an outburst, Yennefer could say, I told you so, and maybe he would finally understand.
“Yes!” Ciri’s face lit up. “We can take Pontar and teach him to find amber!”
Geralt shot them both a satisfied look over the rim of his coffee mug. Yennefer felt the last traces of her anger ebb away.
“I’ll ask Phillipa about the time off, but she might not agree.”
“I know, but you’ll ask, right?” Ciri gave her a searching look. “Unless… you don’t want to go.”
“I do, Ciri,” Yennefer said, brushing her hand over her daughter’s shoulder.
“Good. So, are we making lunch?”
“Yes, check if we have everything for burritos.”
Ciri immediately turned to the fridge, approaching the task with a seriousness that suggested the fate of the world depended on whether they had all the ingredients. Yennefer noticed Geralt’s pleased expression, though he was still trying to hide it behind his mug. She wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, she didn’t understand why Ciri was being so unusually cooperative this time. On the other, it was a relief to avoid a fight.
“Here are the tomatoes and peppers,” Ciri announced, placing the vegetables on the counter. “Do we have beans?”
“I think so,” Yennefer replied, pulling two cans from the cupboard and handing her the corn as well. “Dice the vegetables, and I’ll handle the meat.”
Ciri chopped the vegetables with intense focus, while Yennefer cooked the meat. Once everything was perfectly prepared, Ciri insisted she sit down and finish her coffee while she took over sautéing the rest of the ingredients. Geralt, of course, stayed for lunch. Saying no to Ciri was nearly impossible.
It was one of those moments when an outsider might not understand why the three of them weren’t together as a family. Yennefer cherished these moments, knowing full well they were fleeting. More time together would only break the spell.
After lunch, Geralt said goodbye and left. Yennefer closed the gate with the remote and opened the doors to the terrace, letting Pontar out into the yard. To her surprise, Ciri quickly cleaned up the kitchen mess, then happily ran outside with a book and settled into the hammock.
Yennefer thought how wonderful it would be if they always got along like this. She knew better, though—Ciri was just entering her teenage years, and these moments would become rare. But being a parent had taught her to treasure the good days. Tomorrow, Ciri might wake up grumpy, and Yennefer would regret not making the most of today.
She grabbed two juice cartons, a blanket, and her own book. Stepping outside, she spread the blanket over a lounge chair to make it more comfortable and settled in near the hammock. She handed Ciri one of the orange juice cartons. They read in silence for a while, but soon Ciri started talking. Her energy reminded Yennefer so much of Triss—it was impossible not to notice. The same enthusiasm, the same zest for life, and the same endless stream of words.
They stayed outside, talking for a long time. It was Sunday, and they had all the time in the world.
On Monday morning, Yennefer took her car to the repair shop Triss had recommended. Unfortunately, the paintwork repair was going to take a few days. The scratch was deep, but the mechanics assured her they would do their best to have the car ready by the following Saturday. When she mentioned that she was a mountain rescuer, one of the younger workers gave her a look of admiration that quickly shifted to obvious interest. But he was far too young, and she definitely didn’t need another child to look after.
One positive thing about the situation was that the mechanics reassured her these kinds of scratches happened all the time. If it wasn’t the work of a jealous ex, it was likely just bored kids. With school out for the summer, children often looked for ways to pass the time, and her Volvo was elegant enough to draw attention. It wasn’t as intimidating as a brand-new BMW might have been.
The next few days passed peacefully. Ciri lit up at the news that they’d be without a car for a while. Yennefer suspected her daughter was pleased that this meant her mother couldn’t rush off to respond to alarms during her off-duty hours. She tried not to dwell on that thought too much. The weather had also settled, with warm, pleasant days stretching ahead.
They spent many mornings in the kitchen together. Ciri had a knack for cooking, and Yennefer genuinely enjoyed these shared moments.
Afternoons were often filled with long walks with Pontar. Behind their house lay golden fields of wheat and wide dirt paths, stretching all the way to a dense pine forest several kilometers away. During their walks, Ciri would take countless pictures of Yennefer and Pontar. Later, Yennefer would see them on her daughter’s Instagram stories. For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to post something herself—just to see if Triss would leave a little heart under the photo. But she kept that thought to herself, locking it away where it couldn’t surface.
Still, in the evenings, lying alone in her perfectly arranged bedroom, she found herself scrolling through Triss’s Instagram. The journalist posted several stories a day, and Yennefer felt like she was getting to know her better through them. She didn’t need to ask how Triss was doing—everything was there, on her phone screen.
On Friday, Yennefer picked up her car. It looked brand new, as if nothing had happened. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that more had happened than it seemed. She felt herself slipping into a mild paranoia. Before getting into the car at the shop, she walked around it twice, inspecting every inch. Once she got home, she took photos of it from all angles before parking it in the garage. Checking the car from every side before driving became a new habit—one that irritated her deeply. She knew it was a clear sign something was wrong, but she felt powerless to stop it.
Sunday, July 21, 8:00 p.m.
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
Driving to her first night shift on Sunday, Yennefer reflected on how quickly time was passing. Her week off had flown by in the blink of an eye, and the end of July was a stark reminder that half of summer was already behind them. Soon enough, the season would end, Ciri would return to school, and with her would come the daily chaos and stress of their usual routine.
Triss had been with them at the station for almost two months now. The weekly shifts, divided into their steady cycles, made time feel strange. Events, though separated by days or even weeks, blurred together into one continuous narrative, as if everything were happening simultaneously.
Yennefer wondered if Triss would be on the night shift tonight. After the last incident, which had ended in an argument with Phillipa, the journalist had plenty of reason to stay home.
Night shifts, unfortunately, were breeding grounds for emotional outbursts. Yennefer herself often felt more sensitive during them—or more human, as her teammates would joke. At night, anyone who needed something from her could count on fewer cutting remarks and less sarcasm.
But the flip side of night shifts was their unbearable monotony. For Triss, sitting at the station was almost pointless. Not that Yennefer minded her presence—far from it. In fact, she felt a strange sense of relief at the thought of seeing her. Still, the reality was that Triss could spend a couple of hours at the station and then head home to get some sleep. If Yennefer were in her shoes, she wouldn’t hesitate. She certainly wouldn’t stay here voluntarily, especially if her girlfriend treated her the way Phillipa did.
As she pulled into the station’s parking lot, something caught her attention. A white, city Mercedes was parked next to Phillipa’s massive SUV. On the terrace near the entrance, Yennefer spotted Rience and Eskel, leaning over the railing in conversation.
“Do we have guests?” she asked, approaching to greet them with a handshake.
“Yeah,” Eskel sighed, nodding toward the doors.
“Hiding out here?” she teased, though her tone held a note of suspicion.
“Not at all,” Rience replied, exchanging a telling grin with rescuer.
“I get the feeling even Phillipa's afraid of her,” Eskel added.
“Her?” Yennefer arched a brow.
“Long black hair, confidence that could crush you, and she's got Phillipa wrapped around her finger. Lawyer, right?” Rience said, sharing a knowing look with Eskel.
“Mhm, it's tense in there,” he answered, gesturing toward the doors. “Not sure what's going on or why we need a lawyer, but—”
“Is Triss here?” Yennefer cut in, her curiosity shifting.
A black-haired lawyer who could intimidate Phillipa? It had to be Sheala. The realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind, sharp and undeniable. Yennefer felt her heartbeat quicken.
“She is, but considering how things went last time…”
“Thanks,” Yennefer cut Eskel off and moved forward, motioning to Pontar.
She opened the door, letting the dog enter first. The station felt eerily quiet. Unnaturally so, though perhaps that was just her imagination. With five minutes until the briefing, the hallways stood empty. As she passed the duty room, she nodded to Crach and the other duty rescuer during their shift exchange.
Pontar, as usual, headed straight for the briefing room, while Yennefer quickly changed in the locker room. She hoped that if Triss was there, the sight of the dog might brighten her mood—even just a little. Maybe it would give her the support she needed.
As she entered the briefing room, Yennefer immediately noticed what was unusual. At the head of the long table sat Sheala. It had been years since Yennefer last saw her, but the unmistakable posture and confident gaze left no room for doubt. Sheala was elegant, impeccably dressed in a tailored women’s suit. Her appearance and cool demeanor always commanded respect. Even Phillipa seemed a bit juvenile in her presence, which was ironic given Phillipa’s typically flawless professionalism.
Phillipa stood behind Sheala, leaning over and showing her something on a tablet. Her smile was overly genuine, and her relaxed posture made her look uncharacteristically casual. The usual distance she maintained when working with Triss was conspicuously absent. Yennefer narrowed her eyes, a familiar anger bubbling up inside her. There was something so blatantly unfair about the situation that she had to look away for a moment.
Her eyes scanned the room. Triss was sitting to the side, on one of the chairs, her legs crossed. A notebook rested on her knee, held in place with one hand, while the other gently stroked Pontar behind the ear. Her gaze seemed fixed on the dog, as if looking into those wise, calm eyes gave her some measure of peace. Even when Yennefer entered, Triss didn’t lift her head. She was physically present, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.
For a moment, Yennefer debated what to do. Sheala, or Triss? Fuck. Whatever she chose would have its consequences, but social protocol dictated she greet the guest first. Sticking to general rules was usually the safer option.
She began walking along the wall toward the table, consciously avoiding looking in Triss’s direction for too long. By the time she reached the two women, Phillipa had already noticed her, though her demeanor didn’t shift for even a moment. There was a glimmer in Phillipa’s eyes, something Yennefer recognized from their university days. And she hated it.
Yennefer approached the table with a neutral expression and a polite, frosty smile.
“Sheala, it's good to see you.”
“Yennefer.” Sheala inclined her head, her confidence emanating superiority. “It seems you've achieved exactly what you wanted. A rescuer. Impressive.”
“What brings you here?” Yennefer asked, ignoring the condescending tone.
She wouldn't take the bait. She didn’t know what infuriated her more… Sheala’s smug composure, Phillipa’s faux indifference, or the way their dynamic seemed deliberately designed to test her patience. Or Triss patience…
“Phillipa asked for my assistance,” Sheala replied, glancing at the woman hovering too close behind her. “I live in Montecalvo now. I couldn't refuse her.”
“Still so eager to support Phil. Impressive,” Yennefer said coldly, and fixed Phillipa with a pointed look. “We need to talk.”
Phillipa shrugged, trailing her hand across Sheala's shoulder in a way that made Yennefer's jaw clench.
“I'm not sure if I'll have time today,” she said with calculated indifference. “I'm… busy.”
Sheala’s subtle smile suggested she was in complete control of the situation. Yennefer refused to play their game. Without another word, she turned and walked to Triss, who sat with one leg crossed over the other, absently stroking Pontar.
Yennefer sat beside her, deliberately letting their knees touch. She stayed there, the thick fabric of her pants brushing against the lighter material of Triss's. She wanted her to feel her presence.
“Everything okay?” she asked quietly, knowing how trite the question sounded.
Triss shifted slightly, catching her gaze.
“Let's just say yes,” she replied, her voice tired but steady.
Yennefer glanced toward Phillipa and Sheala. The two were still talking, their voices too low to hear, but their intimate body language spoke volumes. Even Yennefer, who had known Phillipa for years, felt anger rising within her.
Then she noticed Triss's reaction.
For just a moment, Triss cast a glance toward Phillipa and Sheala. Though fleeting, the annoyance in her expression was unmistakable. Her mouth tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing just enough to betray her irritation before she looked back at Pontar, her hand smoothing over the dog's fur.
Yennefer blinked, caught off guard. It wasn't the reaction itself that surprised her, but the quiet strength behind it—the way Triss expressed her frustration so subtly, yet with a sharpness that left no doubt about her feelings.
There was something impressive about it.
Yennefer felt a surge of admiration for the woman beside her. Triss wasn't one to openly challenge Phillipa or Sheala, but that glance, that tiny shift in expression, revealed her resilience. It was a reminder that Triss was far more than the warm, kind-hearted woman most people saw. Beneath that surface was a strong, worthy woman.
Yennefer's lips quirked into a faint smile. “She's lucky she didn't catch that look,” she murmured, more to herself than to Triss.
“What?” Triss asked, glancing at her with faint confusion.
“Nothing.” Yennefer shook her head, leaning back in her chair and letting her gaze drift to the front of the room. But her admiration for Triss lingered, warm and steady.
When everyone had finally gathered and the room settled, the scraping of chairs and the shuffle of footsteps quieted. The air grew still, expectant, as the briefing began as usual. First came the standard updates: a summary of the previous shift, the weather forecast, and the assignments for the day. Philippa's voice carried in the room, blending with the faint hum of the air conditioner.
Then came the introduction of the guest.
“This is Sheala de Tancarville,” Phillipa announced, gesturing toward the lawyer with visible pride. “She’s a legal consultant who works with me and will be assisting with one of our current cases.”
Sheala rose with an elegance that was almost irritating. Her tailored suit fit perfectly, accentuating her flawless figure, as her sharp gaze swept across the room, seemingly assessing everyone present.
Yennefer couldn’t help but think back to two months ago, when it had been Triss standing in Sheala’s place. Triss had been visibly nervous but genuine. Now she sat beside her, silent and calm. They were friends. She wouldn’t trade that for anything—or anyone.
“Thank you, Phillipa,” Sheala began smoothly. “A few weeks ago, there was a climbing rescue on Witch’s Hill. One of the individuals rescued has filed a complaint regarding the cutting of his climbing pants, claiming it was an unnecessary destruction of expensive equipment.”
Yennefer sat up straighter, along with the other rescuers. This was new. They’d heard of such lawsuits against rescuers in Eredath for cutting through ski suits, but she hadn’t expected it here. Then again, people are people—once they’re safe, they start acting like smartasses.
“Ms. de Tancarville has graciously offered to assist us in her free time,” Phillipa said, placing a hand on the lawyer’s shoulder. “We’re grateful for her support and personal involvement.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Phillipa,” Sheala said with a smile that twisted Yennefer’s stomach. “In situations like this, understanding is what truly matters. Since you also volunteer, I can help you in the same way. Let’s hope we can wrap this up quickly and without complications.”
“It could happen to any of you, so it’s good for us to know how to handle it properly, and…” Phillipa replied with confidence.
“One more thing for all of you,” Sheala raised her hand, cutting Phillipa off mid-sentence. “A bit of advice for the future: when cutting clothing, it’s best to follow the seams. It makes any necessary repairs much easier later.” Her gaze swept across the room before she added, “Of course, I understand that filing a complaint over damaged gear while rescuers risk their lives is… unusual. But in my practice, I’ve seen stranger cases. Very little surprises me anymore.”
Yennefer watched her closely, unable to shake the feeling that Sheala’s tone lacked sincerity. Especially in that part about volunteer work and saving lives.
“Thank you,” Phillipa smiled at her, then addressed the rest of the room. “Briefing dismissed. Those who weren’t on the call can return to their duties. Chireadan, Iorveth, Syanna, and Roche—please stay behind.”
Triss was the first to rise, her steps decisive as she left the room. Yennefer followed her with her gaze, hesitating before finally getting up and heading after her. She found Triss waiting in the corridor, a notebook in hand. Without a word, the two of them made their way to the terrace together.
Yennefer couldn’t ignore the shift in Triss’s demeanor. She had expected sorrow or regret, as before, but now there was something else—a weariness mixed with relief, as if she had finally shed a burden she had carried for far too long. Even her posture, though upright, seemed more relaxed, exuding a quiet confidence.
When Triss stepped out onto the terrace and gazed at the distant horizon, Yennefer noticed a small detail: the collar of Triss’s navy-blue blouse, buttoned up to her neck, framed her pale skin in a way that highlighted its delicate hue. It contrasted perfectly with her hair, a subtle yet striking combination. It was such a minor thing, yet Yennefer found herself thinking how well that color suited her.
Pontar appeared at their feet, proudly carrying his beloved green ball on a string in his mouth. Triss offered him a small smile, but it was Yennefer who took the initiative, throwing the ball far into the grass. The shepherd dashed after it with single-minded focus, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
“Is everything really okay?” Yennefer asked as she stepped closer to her.
Triss glanced at her, a faint smile on her lips.
“Yes. That whole spectacle I witnessed in there only confirmed a decision I should’ve made a while ago… Phillipa and I… It’s been over for some time, Yen. It’s just…” She trailed off, hesitating, as if weighing her words. “I don’t know if I want to be alone.”
“You’re not alone, and you won’t be,” Yennefer replied firmly, her gaze steady.
The journalist shrugged, her eyes drifting to Pontar, who had returned with the ball.
“I don’t know… I’ve always clung to this illusion that I was in a relationship, that I was building something. And now…”
Yennefer didn’t respond. Instead, she picked up the ball and threw it again, watching as Pontar bounded after it with unrestrained joy. She stayed close to Triss—that was all she could do for now.
“I’m not even sad. Really, I’m not. I think I’m finally… free,” Triss said at last, breaking the silence herself.
Yennefer looked at her out of the corner of her eye, observing the way she leaned against the terrace railing. The light of the setting sun cast a soft glow on her profile. She didn’t look like someone broken or defeated. She looked like someone who had closed one chapter and was cautiously stepping into the next.
“Just remember, if you ever need me, I’m here,” Yennefer said, hoping to convey the sincerity behind her words.
Triss smiled warmly, but this time it was a smile filled with gratitude.
“I know. For now, I just want to sit out here and watch the sunset. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, or the day after. At this point, it’s just a formality.” Triss glanced at Yennefer. “Will you sit with me?”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood.
“I don’t know… I am on duty, you know,” she teased, taking a seat on the steps.
“Oh, right, I forgot how grueling night shifts are,” Triss quipped back, sitting down beside her.
It was a good sign, Yennefer thought. Triss seemed to be doing better than she had expected.
Pontar reappeared at their feet, the green ball once again dangling from his mouth. This time, Triss reached for it instinctively and tossed it, though not as far as Yennefer had. The dog gave her a puzzled look for a moment before darting after the ball with renewed enthusiasm.
“Tell me something, Yen. Were they together in college?” Triss asked suddenly.
Yennefer threw her a brief look before turning her gaze back to the horizon. The setting sun was slowly disappearing behind the mountain range, painting the sky in warm hues.
“Yes,” she admitted calmly.
Triss’s fingers tightened on her knee.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Yennefer took a deep breath, considering how to explain.
“We never talked about Phillipa,” she said, turning toward her. “And besides, it wasn’t my story to tell, Triss.”
“Why did they break up?” Triss asked, her tone seemingly indifferent, but Yennefer recognized the question came from a need to understand, not simple curiosity.
“Sheala got an offer to study abroad. She went, Phillipa stayed. It was as simple as that.”
“So, Sheala was the one who ended it first?” Triss lifted her gaze to meet Yennefer’s.
“Triss, does that really matter?” Yennefer asked gently.
Triss sighed, then offered a faint smile. She turned her attention back to the horizon, the mountains rising like a protective wall against the rest of the world. It felt good to look at them, grounding.
“No… not anymore,” she murmured after a moment. Then, quieter, almost to herself, she added, “It wasn’t my fault, right?”
“No,” Yennefer answered immediately, without hesitation.
“You once said that you and Phillipa are alike,” Triss said softly. “I don’t see it, you know.”
Yennefer shrugged.
“Maybe Ciri softened me up a bit,” she replied lightly, though she knew it was true.
Ciri had taught her many things, often at the expense of Yennefer’s energy and tears.
She threw the ball again, watching as Pontar sprinted after it with all the joy and purpose only a dog could muster. His unbridled happiness felt like the only certainty at that moment. As he ran toward the hedge to retrieve the ball, a thought formed in Yennefer’s mind. Perfect.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then come on. Let’s make a fire.”
“A fire? Here? Where?” Triss looked at her, intrigued, a spark of life returning to her eyes.
“We have a special spot, just beyond the hedge,” Yennefer explained as she stood up. “Thought you knew all the secrets of this base?”
“I did,” Triss replied with a faint smile, a spark of curiosity lighting up her voice for the first time that evening.
“Come on, I’ll show you where it is, and I’ll grab the firewood while you claim the best seat. The rest will show up as soon as they smell the smoke. You’ll see,” Yennefer added as she descended the steps.
Beyond the hedge, the ground sloped gently before leveling out. They passed meticulously trimmed bushes to find a solid fire pit nestled just beyond. It was a large circle, over a meter in diameter, surrounded by a low stone wall. Everything about it was thoughtfully designed and safe, as one would expect from a group of rescuers.
Triss looked around with evident interest. Under a small covered storage shed attached to the fence, neatly stacked firewood awaited. Around the fire pit stood sturdy benches made of thick, naturally curved planks, some with tall backs. Triss immediately picked one and settled in comfortably.
“This place is wonderful,” she said, running her hand over the rough wood grain. “Who built it?”
“The rescuers, back when the unit was first established,” Yennefer replied, heading toward the woodpile. “We just make sure it stays in good shape.”
As she stacked wood in the pit, Yennefer glanced at Triss. In the light of the setting sun, Triss’s hair seemed to glow as if lit from within. She radiated a calm that Yennefer found mesmerizing.
“Can you take my notebook to the duty room?” Triss asked as Yennefer stood up and mentioned she’d be back shortly.
Yennefer grabbed the notebook and headed briskly toward the station, first stopping by Crach’s office.
“We’re setting up a bonfire,” she announced as she stepped inside. “I’ll keep the radio on.”
Crach gave a simple nod in acknowledgment. Yennefer took a radio from its charger and then made her way to the lounge to grab some blankets. She chose the two softest and warmest ones she could find.
When she returned, Triss was still sitting on the bench, her attention fixed on Pontar as he dashed around the grass, seemingly playing with an invisible companion. Yennefer handed her the blankets.
“One for sitting, one for covering. The night air can chill your back,” she explained.
She set about preparing the fire, using birchbark as natural kindling. Triss unfolded the blanket for the bench and neatly folded the other, placing it beside her.
“Someone knows their way around a fire pit,” Triss teased, watching Yennefer work.
“You’d be surprised how much time we spend around a fire between calls,” Yennefer replied, lighting the first piece of bark.
“Great idea,” came a voice from behind them.
“You found us so fast?” Yennefer asked, feigning annoyance.
“Crach spilled the beans,” Eskel explained. “Think we should send one of the rookies for some potatoes? I’d kill for fire-roasted potatoes.”
Triss perked up instantly.
“Yes! I can go if you two can’t.”
Yennefer glanced at her brightened face, marveling at how simple things could bring her so much joy.
“Stay and relax. I’ll talk to the volunteers,” Eskel said, disappearing behind the hedge.
Gradually, everyone gathered around. Two young volunteers returned with a bag of potatoes, and, as expected in a group of alpha personalities, a debate quickly arose over the best way to roast them perfectly. Yennefer watched the discussion with amusement, seated next to Triss. Knowing Yennefer well enough by now, Triss had scooted to the middle of the bench, leaving her space on the edge.
Yennefer stretched out her legs, letting the warmth of the fire seep through the thick fabric of her pants. She enjoyed the sensation, letting the atmosphere wash over her.
Syanna joined them on the bench, and the three of them watched the antics of the guys at the fire pit. Then came the stories—the same ones as always—but Triss listened with rapt attention. Scary tales mixed with funny and intriguing ones, and by the end, when everyone was more relaxed, the truly absurd stories surfaced. Triss had to swear she wouldn’t repeat their complaints to anyone.
Shortly after midnight, Phillipa appeared with a pack of glass-bottled drinks. Yennefer stole a glance at Triss, but she seemed completely unfazed by Phillipa’s presence.
“You wanted to talk?” Phillipa asked, handing a bottle of soda to Yennefer.
“Will I get time off?”
Chireadan chuckled from across the fire.
“You? Time off?”
Yennefer shot him a warning glare, but she doubted her disdain was visible in the flickering firelight.
“Fill out the request and leave it with me,” Phillipa said calmly, passing bottles to Triss and Syanna.
“I need to know whether it’s approved or not,” Yennefer pressed, her gaze steady on Phillipa.
“When?”
“The next week of night shifts.”
“You’ll get it.”
Phillipa handed out the remaining bottles and sat down on the opposite side of the fire, next to Eskel. The flames crackled softly, and the potatoes roasted quietly in the embers.
“Where are you headed?” Chireadan asked, looking at Yennefer across the fire.
“The coast, near Novigrad,” she replied curtly, taking a sip of her drink.
“With Ciri?” Eskel inquired.
“Mhm.”
“What about Pontar?” Triss chimed in, glancing at the dog sprawled next to their bench. “Is he coming too?”
“Of course. I can’t leave him behind,” Yennefer explained. “Besides, Ciri’s already planning to teach him how to find amber on the beach.”
“That might actually work,” Eskel laughed. “These dogs are smart, though I’m not sure amber has any distinctive scent.”
“Someone check the potatoes?” One of the young volunteers called, leaning over the fire with a stick in hand. “We need more fire.”
“No, more embers, not fire,” Rience corrected, shaking his head. “They’ll burn in the flames.”
“Here we go again,” Yennefer muttered under her breath, taking another sip of her drink. Syanna and Triss burst into laughter, understanding her jab about how every rescuer always thought they were the expert.
The night was peacefully. The potatoes were roasted in several batches. Not all of them came out perfect, but they were eaten nonetheless. The fire gradually died down, leaving behind glowing embers, while above them stretched a star-filled sky.
Yennefer occasionally glanced at Triss, who sat comfortably beside her, laughing and joining in the conversations. There was no trace of the tension she’d carried earlier in the evening. Eventually, Phillipa excused herself, citing unfinished work, and no one commented on her departure.
As the first rays of dawn began to brighten the sky, no one seemed eager to move. The warmth of the embers still made the air around the fire pleasant and cozy. Everyone sat in silence—some younger rescuers sprawled on benches, playing games on their phones, while others dozed lightly. Yennefer watched it all with a sense of calm.
Triss leaned against her, giving the impression she might also be dozing. Yennefer couldn’t see her face, hidden beneath the cascade of her thick hair. She knew how hard it must have been—working with someone you were with, or at least had tried to be with. And now? It was over. Triss was free but still here.
That didn’t change anything, did it? And yet, the thought felt like a moment of relief, like coming up for air after being underwater too long. Not because Yennefer was glad for her freedom—it wasn’t about that. She just wanted Triss to be happy, to no longer feel trapped in a relationship that wasn’t right for her. It was about caring for her, nothing more.
The fact that Triss was free didn’t change anything between them. It wasn’t important. It shouldn’t be.
Yennefer took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax. It was a good moment, for both of them.
Chapter 11
Notes:
I'm sick of winter, I want spring already...
But I also have a new chapter, enjoy the read! 😊
Chapter Text
Monday, July 22, 8:00 p.m.
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
Triss didn’t show up for her next shift. Again. Just like the last time, she had an argument with Philippa. Yennefer noticed her absence immediately. This time, though, Triss had everything under control, right? At least that’s what she claimed. But was that really possible? Did Yennefer truly believe that the journalist could handle the formidable Philippa Eilhart on her own?
Yennefer watched Philippa during the briefing, feeling her fingers tighten involuntarily on the edge of the chair. The woman was as impeccable as ever. Poised, confident, with that distinctive aura that caught the attention of everyone in the room. Sheala was gone, so now it was Philippa's presence that filled the entire space. Where was the different, atypical Philippa that everyone had seen yesterday? The one with the slightly childish, almost unsuitable attitude? Today there was no trace of her.
Yennefer sat with her arms crossed, watching her from beneath her lashes. Her gaze was icy, carrying a silent warning. If she did anything to Triss… No, she wouldn't let it slide this time. The thought struck like lightning, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Had she made a mistake by letting things go before, by staying out of it and pretending it wasn't her problem? She'd believed Triss knew what she was doing, that stepping back was the best choice. She had been wrong. Mistakes happen to everyone, after all.
After the briefing ended, Yennefer left the room and reached for her phone. She typed a quick message to Triss, barely noticing the people passing by in the hallway—though her trained instincts still tracked every movement. An unsettling feeling crept into her thoughts, like poison seeping through her veins.
'Are you okay?'
She hit send and watched the screen, her finger hovering over the keyboard. The reply came instantly, tightening the knot in her chest.
'No.'
Yennefer didn't hesitate. She tapped the call button and strode quickly toward the terrace, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridor, matching the growing tension in her gut. The ringing in her ear made her breath quicken. Just yesterday, they'd talked here, and everything had seemed fine. Triss had been confident, determined—Yennefer had admired that strength in her. But she'd forgotten who Triss was up against.
She should have warned her.
Triss answered, but remained silent. The silence chilled Yennefer more than any words could have.
“Triss, may I help you somehow?” she asked carefully, masking the tension in her voice as she leaned against the terrace railing.
A bitter laugh answered her.
“No… Everything's perfect. I'm sitting on some rock, admiring the sunset. What more could I want?”
Her tone revealed everything. She'd been crying. The tremor in her voice, the fragility... It pierced Yennefer's chest like knives. She clenched her free hand into a fist, nails digging into her palm as her anger toward Philippa intensified.
“It's going to get dark soon, Triss. Be careful.”
“I know, but I'm not moving. My leg hurts. I can't…” Her voice faltered into silence. Yennefer could picture the tears on her cheeks, hear the wind whistling in the background.
But one word cut through the storm of emotions: hurts.
“Where are you? I'll come get you.” Yennefer straightened, instantly alert.
“I'll find you with Pontar, whether you want me to or not,” she interrupted firmly. “You know that. You can't stay out there alone tonight.”
“I can. I…” Triss's voice cracked, but Yennefer cut her off, feeling her chest constrict.
“I'm worried about you, Triss.” The words came out softly, almost a whisper, costing her more than she cared to admit. She clenched her teeth, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and exhaled slowly. “I'm really worried. Just tell me where you are. Please.”
The line went quiet except for the whisper of wind. Finally, Triss spoke, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
“The red trail up to Yew Hill, but…”
“I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't move.” Yennefer was already heading toward the building's entrance, unconsciously quickening her pace. “I won't leave you, remember?”
Triss answered with a quiet, “I remember,” followed by a soft sniffle that made Yennefer's chest ache.
Yennefer ended the call and headed straight for Crach. They had to sort this out… somehow. He would figure it out. All she knew was that she needed to go. She quickly checked the dinning room. Empty. The briefing room? Empty.
Fuck.
Relief washed over her when she spotted Eskel standing with Crach in the duty room. Perfect. Exactly who she needed. Her shoulders relaxed, if only slightly.
“Guys, we've got a problem.” Her voice was steady, professional, though her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest. She reached for the radio. “I need your help.”
Both men turned toward her with clear interest. Eskel raised an eyebrow, his face taking on that familiar look of intense focus she knew so well. Crach tilted his head, waiting for her to explain.
“Triss is up on Yew Hill,” Yennefer began, maintaining her professional tone even as her fingers twisted the radio nervously. “She called, and she can't make it down because her leg is hurt.”
“Why didn't she call me?” Crach asked, his fingers flying over the map screen. His efficient movements and calm focus had a strangely soothing effect. “Which trail?”
“The red one.” Yennefer hesitated, her jaw tightening. “She didn't call because she broke up with Philippa. Let's just say… she's a bit upset.”
What else could she say? How could she explain everything?
“Finally,” Eskel muttered, setting down his mug of tea. The porcelain clinked against the tabletop, loud in the tense atmosphere. He stood, grabbed the radio, and added, “I never understood what she saw in her. I'll go with you. We'll handle it carefully.”
“Thanks.” Yennefer felt some tension leave her shoulders. “I was just about to ask.”
“Take the quad and head out,” Crach instructed, gesturing toward the garage, his eyes fixed on the map. “If she needs an ambulance, it'll be difficult to keep this quiet.” He shot Yennefer a meaningful look. “But this is just a regular accident. No need to complicate it.”
“I know, but…”
“I'll handle it, Yennefer,” Crach interrupted, his tone warm with reassurance. “Just go get her. And tell her that next time, she owes me two donuts for not calling me first.” He gave a slight smile before turning back to his work.
Typical of them.
For the rescue team, everything had its playful context. But Yennefer wasn't sure if she should pass that comment on to Triss. Not now. Not after hearing the bitterness in her voice.
She and Eskel headed to the garage, their hurried footsteps echoing through the silent station. Preparing the equipment took only seconds, everything was in its proper place. Yennefer double-checked the medical bag and secured the splints on the trailer herself.
Check everything. You can't afford a mistake. Not with Triss.
“She'll be fine, Yennefer,” Eskel broke the silence as they climbed onto the quad. His calm tone suggested he understood more than she'd said.
“Can you give us some space?” Yennefer glanced at him meaningfully as she adjusted her helmet. “I need to talk to her.”
“Of course.” There wasn't a hint of hesitation in his voice.
“Thanks.” She settled in behind him, feeling the familiar comfort of the rescue gear. She patted his thigh lightly, signaling she was ready. Her body fell naturally into position.
Eskel said nothing more. He started the engine, and the quad hummed to life. They switched on the lights and headed out, the sirens wailing only once they reached the road.
Yennefer felt her stomach tighten in that familiar pre-rescue way. But this time was different. This time, it was about Triss.
The road up seemed to take an eternity. Every turn, every hill, reminded her how far she was from her goal. Finally, she spotted the silhouette of Triss sitting on one of the white rocks near the main trail.
The sight knocked the breath out of her. The sunset in the mountains, the golden hour bathing the slopes in light, the pale stone of the rocks... and Triss among them, her hair aflame like fire. She was beautiful, yet wounded.
Triss didn't turn toward them or react to the approaching quad. She sat motionless, like a statue, her eyes fixed on the orange orb of the sun sinking in the sky.
Eskel stopped the quad at a respectful distance. Yennefer dismounted, set her helmet on the seat, and approached Triss. Each step was deliberate, cautious. Eskel, true to his word, busied himself with the equipment, though she could sense his watchful presence behind her.
She reached for her radio and turned it off. The silence felt right.
“Triss, look at me,” Yennefer said, her voice gentle. She placed her hands lightly on Triss's shoulders, as if touching something fragile that might crumble under pressure.
Triss didn't respond, only pressing her lips together more tightly, a faint crease forming between her brows. Yennefer studied her, noting every sign of exhaustion. Though Triss wasn't crying now, her red, puffy eyes and swollen cheeks revealed how long she had been. The freckles on her face were nearly lost in the flush of redness. Two freckles near the corner of her lower lip caught Yennefer's attention before her eyes returned to Triss's.
“Triss, please.” Her voice softened further, like the tone she once used with Ciri. “Let me see that you're okay.”
Triss's shoulders were taut as bowstrings. She shook her head.
“There's nothing to see.” Her voice was hoarse from crying. “I'm pathetic, sitting here and...” She trailed off, biting her lip until it turned white.
“You're not pathetic,” Yennefer interrupted firmly, her throat tightening. “You're hurt. There's a difference.”
“I shouldn't be,” Triss whispered, still staring at the setting sun. Her profile cut sharply against the orange sky. “I knew what she was like. And still…”
Yennefer sighed and drew her hands back from Triss's shoulders. She crouched before her, focusing on the woman in front of her rather than the tangle of emotions between them. The small rock forced Triss into an awkward position—one foot on the ground, the other bent at the knee against the stone's edge. Yennefer made herself concentrate on what mattered most: the injured knee.
“What about your leg?” Yennefer's voice shifted to a professional tone, though it took effort. “Where does it hurt?”
“My knee,” Triss said, her voice barely audible, trembling. “I tripped…stupidly… like everything else I did today.”
“Stop that,” Yennefer cut her off sharply, then softened her tone. “I need to check your leg, okay? It might hurt a little.”
She shouldn't be here. Yennefer knew that. Philippa would be furious, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Now she understood why rescuers were discouraged from responding to emergencies involving loved ones. This was an exception—a one-time exception. Besides, no one outside the rescue team knew about their relationship. And she could be professional. Right?
She began rolling up Triss's leggings, but the fabric was too tight. Her hands trembled slightly.
“Triss, I need to cut the legging,” she said, feeling oddly awkward. Just yesterday, Sheala had told them about a situation like this. Triss responded with only a soft, bitter laugh. The absurdity wasn't lost on either of them.
Yennefer pulled on gloves and took scissors from her bag. She cut carefully along the seam to mid-thigh. Triss's knee was swollen, the skin tinged red and purple. Yennefer touched her thigh gently, struggling to maintain her composure and professional distance.
“Does this hurt?” she asked, pressing lightly.
“No.”
“The knee?” She moved her hand lower and carefully manipulated the joint.
Triss hissed in pain and pulled back instinctively, her hands gripping the rock's edge.
“It hurts. A lot.”
“All right. Don't move it,” Yennefer said, keeping her voice steady and reassuring. “I'll need to immobilize it in this position. Eskel, can you hand me the splints?” she called over her shoulder, eyes fixed on Triss's knee.
Eskel passed her the equipment wordlessly. Yennefer gave him a grateful glance before returning to Triss.
She knelt, taking out the first splint. She adjusted it carefully to the bend of Triss's knee, avoiding any unnecessary movement. After sliding the splint under Triss's thigh, she pressed it against the rock for stability. Her heart pounded as she reached for a bandage roll.
The silence between them grew heavy, uncomfortable. Yennefer said nothing. Because what could she say?
She wrapped the bandage with careful, delicate movements, starting at Triss's thigh and working downward. When she glanced up, Triss still wouldn't meet her gaze. Yennefer pressed her lips together and returned to her work, pushing down her anger and hurt.
She felt her energy draining.
Why was this happening? What was the point?
Yennefer wrapped mechanically, focusing on the task. In the background, Eskel spoke on the radio. The sun had nearly vanished, painting everything golden. One more bandage to ensure everything stayed secure.
Why was this affecting her so deeply?
She bit her lip and wiped her forehead. She was tired... too tired for all of this. Emotions belonged at home, not during a rescue.
“Triss…” she said quietly, trying one final time.
“I'm fine, Yennefer. Really,” Triss responded, her voice soft and trembling. Her lips twisted in pain. “Philippa was right…”
“Right about what?” Yennefer asked, checking the splint once more. Everything was perfect, better than during training.
“That I'm… that all of this was…” Triss shook her head, her hands clenched white-knuckled on the rock.
"Triss, look at me," Yennefer asked again, even though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t push. As always, when it came to this woman, her resolve didn’t last.
She shook her head. Yennefer finished inspecting the splint but remained kneeling beside her.
“Philippa could make anyone believe anything. She'd do it in under a minute. No one stands a chance in her games. Don't let her words get to you. They weren't true.”
“They were,” Triss whispered, still watching the dying sun. “I'm childish. Look at me.”
“Yes, taking a mountain hike is terribly childish,” Yennefer replied sincerely, eyes fixed on her.
“I wrecked my leg.”
“That happens to the best of us.”
At last, Triss met her gaze. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
“Why did she do this to me?” she asked softly. “If I'm so insignificant, why couldn't she just let me go like a normal person? Was that really too much to ask?”
Yennefer stood, responding firmly but quietly.
“Because she's Philippa. She always needs control. She always has to show she holds the cards.”
“She didn't have to do this to me,” Triss muttered, her gaze dropping as her shoulders sagged.
“I know.” Yennefer offered her hand. “Can you stand and lean on me? Or should I bring the stretcher?”
“I can walk. I made it this far.”
“Which is why it's so bruised. Come on.”
Yennefer helped her up, slipping an arm around her waist. Though she felt Triss's warmth, she focused on the leg. Ensuring slow movement and a secure splint.
Meeting Eskel's eyes, she watched him come over to support Triss's other side. His reassuring smile stayed steady as they guided her steps. Together, they made their way to the stretcher in the quad's trailer. Triss kept her lips pressed tight, refusing to show pain.
“We'll drive you to the ambulance,” Yennefer said once they'd seated Triss. Eskel stepped away to gather equipment, giving them privacy.
“I don't want to…” Triss slumped, wiping tears from her cheek.
“Triss… you've likely sprained your knee. You know it needs treatment,” Yennefer said, gentle but firm.
“What about my car? God, I'm such a mess…” Her voice was quiet, bitter.
“I'll help you. After they discharge you, call for transport and go home. I'll come once my shift ends, all right?” Yennefer's voice stayed steady but soft. “We'll figure out what's next.”
“I don't want to burden you,” Triss muttered, looking down as she picked at her jacket.
“Stop that nonsense. I'll come. Unless you need rest—then I'll visit later. Just message me,” Yennefer said, helping Triss toward the trailer. “But I'm coming, whether you like it or not.”
“Why?” Triss's voice held genuine surprise.
“Because you matter. You're important to me.” The words escaped Yennefer, raw and unfiltered.
Triss looked at her, gratitude flickering in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You need to lie down.”
“No, it's pathetic…”
“Think of it as a new experience,” Yennefer said, trying to lighten the mood.
Triss slowly shifted deeper into the trailer, and Yennefer carefully helped her injured leg. She eased it onto the stretcher as gently as possible, making sure to avoid causing any additional pain. Triss sighed heavily as she lay back, but she avoided Yennefer’s gaze.
Eskel approached, having finished gathering the equipment. He handed everything over, and Yennefer nodded in thanks.
She secured the bag with the splints and the medical backpack next to Triss’s leg, creating additional support. Then she fastened the stretcher straps, doing her best to avoid direct contact. Even though this was purely a rescue operation, it felt strange. Like she was crossing some invisible boundary.
“Everything okay?” she asked when she was done.
“It’s awful,” Triss groaned, shooting her a long, drawn-out look.
“We’ll drive slowly, don’t worry.” Yennefer offered a faint smile before turning away to take her place on the quad. She put on her helmet and sat behind Eskel, facing backward, so she could keep an eye on Triss. Once again, she gave the signal by tapping his thigh, letting him know they were ready to go.
The quad moved at a slow, steady pace, and Yennefer’s eyes stayed on Triss, who lay motionless on the stretcher. Her heart pounded too quickly, her thoughts racing with ideas of what else she could do to help.
When they reached the main road, the ambulance was already waiting. Eskel walked over to the paramedics, quickly informing them that the patient was one of their own. Meanwhile, Yennefer stayed by Triss, helping her off the stretcher.
“Triss…”
“Don’t say anything, Yennefer. I know, and I’ve had enough.”
Yennefer obeyed. She didn’t say another word. She stepped back and let the paramedics move Triss into the ambulance. For a moment, she just stood there, watching the white vehicle slowly drive away toward the hospital.
“Come on, let's head back,” Eskel said gently, touching her arm.
“Thank you,” she said softly, meeting his eyes.
“There's no need to thank me,” he replied with a warm smile.
They quickly secured the trailer and climbed back onto the quad. Yennefer remained silent the entire way. Inside her helmet, she felt like she was trapped in a glass bubble, alone with her thoughts.
It wasn’t fair. She could still hear the pain and confusion in Triss’s voice when she’d asked, Why did she do this to me? Yennefer wished she had an answer. She wished she knew why Philippa had felt the need to inflict so much pain.
But this time, she wouldn’t let Philippa get away with it.
When they returned to the base, Yennefer didn’t waste a moment. Eskel assured her he’d handle everything, as if he could sense her intentions. She marched purposefully toward Philippa’s office. The door clicked softly behind her as she stepped inside.
Philippa was seated behind her desk, impeccably perfect as always. The same uniform Yennefer wore looked flawless on her, the sharp tailoring hugging her figure. Her hair was pulled back into a pristine bun, and her striking makeup framed her piercing gaze. When Yennefer stopped in front of her, hands planted firmly on her hips and fury burning in her eyes, Philippa slowly looked up.
“Well, go ahead, Yennefer,” Philippa said calmly, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave her a challenging stare. “What do you have to say this time?”
Yennefer clenched her fists. The surrounding air seemed to crackle with the tension of her anger, but she fought to stay composed. There was too much at stake to let her emotions run wild. She knew she’d have to play Philippa’s game.
“Triss…” she started, but Philippa cut her off with a wave of her hand.
“Of course. Triss.” her tone carried a hint of amusement, her smile cold and humorless. “I should’ve known. You’re here to defend her honor, I assume? Or is this just to vent because she broke free of her leash and caused a little chaos?”
Yennefer inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself.
“She’s a person, not one of your playthings.”
Philippa leaned forward, and there was a spark in her eyes. Irritation? Or was it amusement?
“A person, you say?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “So, what, you’re her spokesperson now? That’s… adorable. It seems the two of you understand each other all too well.” Her tone was icy, every word a deliberate jab.
Yennefer gritted her teeth, her anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface.
“You know what you did was wrong. Triss deserved to leave with dignity. Why the spectacle? Can’t you just end this game of yours?”
Philippa leaned back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh, as if the entire conversation was little more than an entertaining diversion.
“Dignity. What a noble word, Yennefer,” she said mockingly. “But dignity has to be earned. Triss knew exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to the terms. If she’s feeling hurt now, perhaps she should reconsider whether she’s really suited for arrangements like these.”
“Really, Philippa? That’s your excuse? That she should’ve known better?” Yennefer’s voice dropped, her tone cutting. Her eyes narrowed as her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
Philippa shrugged, as if the entire matter was trivial.
“Yes, she should have. Triss is a sweet girl with a good heart, but she lacks… experience,” she said, her lips curling into an ironic smile. “She always has those big, hopeful eyes, like the world owes her better treatment than she deserves. If she wants to achieve something, she needs more than that.”
“Do you really believe that?” Yennefer took a step forward, her body taut with tension.
Philippa raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly to the side.
“Yes, Yennefer. I believe emotions are tools. And if someone lets them control them, that’s their weakness, not mine. Triss needed to learn that.”
Yennefer stared at Philippa.
“Is that why you humiliated her? Why you staged that whole show with Sheala in front of everyone, knowing it would break her?”
“Humiliated her?” Philippa repeated, shaking her head in feigned disbelief. “Please. It was a lesson, Yennefer. A lesson she should’ve learned long ago. If she wants to play in the adult world, she needs to understand that no one is going to handle her with kid gloves. I wanted to see if her word was worth anything, and as it turns out—it wasn’t.”
Yennefer’s voice sharpened, her irritation no longer concealed.
“Or maybe you just wanted to prove that you’re the one in control. That no one can leave without your permission.”
Philippa smiled, her expression growing colder, almost predatory.
“Because that’s exactly how it is, Yennefer. I don’t need to prove something that’s self-evident.” She tilted her head, studying Yennefer intently. “But honestly, your moral crusade is beginning to bore me. Where is all this concern coming from? For some girl? I hardly recognize you…”
“If you think I’m going to stay silent and accept your behavior, you’re wrong,” Yennefer replied, straightening her posture. Her voice was now firm and unyielding. “I won’t let you treat people like this, Philippa. Triss is my friend, and she deserves better.”
Philippa stared at her for a moment, as if weighing her determination.
“Your friend, you say?” She shook her head in disbelief. “From the beginning, you let me treat her however I pleased. You saved her in your own peculiar way, but you still let me do as I wanted. But you know what, Yennefer? I don’t have the time or the inclination to care about your opinion. So, unless you have something to say about our actual work, the door is right there.” She nodded her head toward the exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to. And I need to decide whether or not to punish you for your little stunt with that unauthorized trip.
“Punish me?”
“Yes.” Philippa leaned forward slightly, as if she were sharing something of great importance. “As it happens, I’m the chief here, and I’m the one in charge, Yennefer. If little, poor Triss decided to go into the mountains just to get attention, it only proves I was completely right about her. As for her work in this unit, I’ll need to reconsider that too. So far, her articles haven’t brought in a single sponsor or caught the eye of anyone important. I expected professionalism, not theatrics.” She paused, her gaze fixed on Yennefer. “Is that clear?”
“It is. But don’t think for a second that this is fine,” Yennefer replied, turning slightly away. Her voice was icy, though she was trying to feign indifference. “If you can’t handle your own feelings for Sheala...”
“Watch your words, Yennefer.” Philippa’s voice sliced through the room like a whip, sharp and threatening, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You could lose this job faster than you think. Do what you’re supposed to, and stay out of matters that don’t concern you. Understood?”
Yennefer met her gaze, her teeth clenched. “Understood, Ms. Eilhart.”
“In that case, you may go.”
Yennefer didn’t reply. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her with a loud crash that echoed through the quiet hallway. For once, she didn’t care what Philippa—or anyone else—might think. She wasn’t going to stay silent. She wasn’t going to back down.
Still fuming, She found herself heading straight for the climbing hall, her feet carrying her on autopilot. She wasn’t consciously aware of where she was going, but her body seemed to know. Pontar appeared out of nowhere like a ghost and walked beside her, his calm step and the rhythmic tapping of his claws against the floor had a strangely calming effect. Yennefer had the distinct feeling that the dog understood her emotions better than she understood them herself.
The climbing hall was silent, its varied shapes of walls absorbing the sounds from the outside world. It was a place that cut you off from everything. The tall, narrow structure had an almost claustrophobic quality, faintly reminiscent of caves—but only faintly. Real caves were different: cold, damp, and oppressively dark. Nowhere else was as dark as a cave.
Yennefer stood at the base of the wall, meticulously checking her equipment. Was the harness too tight? Was the rope secured properly? Inhale. Exhale. Every movement had to be calm and deliberate.
Don’t get distracted. Don’t think about Triss, or Philippa, or the emotional storm brewing back at the unit. Don’t dwell on what you can’t understand.
Lately, she didn’t understand much. Triss—or, rather, her reactions to Triss—confused her. She overanalyzed every gesture, every word, every message. Even now, standing under the climbing wall, she wondered whether she should send Triss another text. Since when had sending a simple message become so complicated?
She grabbed a green hold, pulled herself up, and placed her foot on a yellow one.
Focus on the movements. Not on Triss. Not on that strange calm you feel when she’s nearby. Not for that specific anxiety that creeps in when you see your car.
The last few days had felt like a parabola, Moments of peace followed by chaos. Or maybe it had been weeks. Work made it hard to keep track of time.
She climbed higher, wondering if she was at the peak of that parabola now—or at its lowest point. How did she feel?
Strange.
That was all she knew. Emotions had never been her strong suit. In school, they had taught her how to solve equations, not how to name feelings. And she had excelled at math.
Strange with Triss. Strange in her own car. Strange as a mother. Strange as an ex-girlfriend and the current friend of her child’s father. Strange with the idea of vacationing in a seaside cabin owned by Geralt's parents.
And now, after her confrontation with Philippa, she felt strange even here. Once, she and Philippa had been equals when they joined the unit. Now Philippa was reminding her that she could fire her at any moment. It all felt… surreal. Naïve. Was this how Triss had felt with Philippa? Believing there was something more to her than cold calculation? Believing that any sort of relationship with her meant anything?
Her foot slipped off a hold, and her hand failed to grasp the next one securely. Her heart pounded as her body tensed, suspended momentarily by the safety line.
Focus, Yennefer. The wall. The goal a few meters above you. Leave those thoughts down below.
She steadied herself, gathered her strength, and climbed to the top. Sitting on the final platform, she felt the burn in her muscles from the effort. Climbing had drained her, leaving her aching from her fingers to her toes. She leaned her head back against the wall and adjusted her hair, ready to look at everything from above, with some distance. But the ringing of her phone interrupted her plan.
Sliding down the rope quickly—no time for a slow descent—she reached for her phone. At this hour, it could only be Geralt or Triss. When she saw the journalist’s name, she allowed herself a small, fleeting smile.
‘Sprained knee, just as you said. Waiting for discharge. I’m stuck at home for 3 weeks.’
Yennefer might have been relieved by such an outcome—three weeks at home sounded like a reprieve. She could take time off, sure, but that wasn’t the point. Sometimes she liked not having a choice—rarely, but still. Now, with life slipping through her fingers in strange ways, maybe that’s what she needed. But she wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking about Triss. For Triss, being stuck at home would be a nightmare.
Still, she didn’t want to say anything that might add to her burdens. Instead, she opted for a version of herself that was safe—someone Triss might need right now more than someone full of sarcasm or dark humor.
‘Rest and take care of yourself. Knees aren’t something to mess around with.’
She sent the message and immediately added another:
‘Can I come by after my shift? Do you need anything?’
Writing messages like this at night came easily. She could have even added that she was worried, but she suspected that might annoy Triss. She needed to pull herself together after what had happened and what Philippa had said. Her hike, which was supposed to be a form of cleansing, had backfired. Now she needed to rebuild herself. Alone. Triss didn’t need someone worrying about her or offering help. She needed time to get back on her feet.
Literally.
‘Yes. I’ll be fine.’
Of course, she’d be fine. Yennefer knew that. But she still wanted to be sure everything was okay. Had the doctors fitted the brace properly? Did Triss know how to use it and what to do? Yennefer could be useful. She wanted to be useful. She wanted to matter. Just like Triss mattered. She’d told her that, hadn’t she?
‘Can I bring Pontar with me?’
Holding her phone, she glanced down at the dog, who was peacefully napping beside her. She envied him. His life was simple—full of motivation and rewards for a job well done. He had an intuition that always guided him to the right people. Pontar knew whom to trust. Yennefer trusted his instincts and always took his reactions to others seriously.
‘Yes, I need to hug him. He understands.’
For a brief moment, Yennefer wanted to reply, to say that she understood too. That she understood her.
‘Rest, Triss. We’ll be there in the morning.’
‘Thank you, take care of yourself.’
Yennefer smiled, a little wider this time. Triss was safe. She set the phone down on the shelf, feeling a small wave of relief. The climbing wall began calling to her again. Why not? She could try a different wall, a harder level. Now, she didn’t have any distractions.
She focused on the movements, on the controlled rhythm of her breath. Every hold she reached for was deliberate, every step intentional. Climbing was exactly what she needed—a challenge that demanded absolute focus. Movement by movement. Inhale. Exhale.
She reached the top faster than she expected.
At the end of her shift, she headed for the shower, pausing briefly to send Triss a quick message asking if she was sure she wanted her to come over now. She didn’t wait for a reply—the hot water washed away the remnants of the night and the weight of her uniform. She felt her muscles loosen with each passing moment under the stream.
By 8:00 a.m., she was dressed in fresh clothes when she saw Triss’s reply.
‘Come over, I can’t sleep anyway. I’ll be waiting with coffee.’
Yennefer smiled involuntarily, slinging her gym bag over her shoulder. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was tired, her face giving it away more and more lately. The shadows under her eyes seemed darker each day. At least her hair looked good. And she felt refreshed after the shower, which always gave her a little boost of confidence.
She headed downstairs, exchanging brief goodbyes with the rescuers from the incoming shift. Calling for Pontar, she made her way to the parking lot. Once again, she circled her car, checking every detail… tires, bodywork, everything was fine. She ignored the shiver that ran down her spine. This had become a habit, that unsettling feeling she couldn’t shake but couldn’t act on, either. She wondered how long she could keep ignoring it.
She turned on the music, dialing up the volume to her usual limit. She liked listening to it loud. The sounds filled her mind, effectively blocking out unwanted thoughts. It really worked, except on days when those thoughts were too persistent, and then the music only irritated her. Fortunately, today wasn’t one of those days. The volume had to be perfectly balanced—loud enough to feel the music throughout her body but low enough to still hear what was happening around her: sudden braking, a horn, or the sirens of emergency vehicles.
She skipped through tracks until the opening chords of a familiar song filled the car. She had this habit—of finding meaning in music, explanations for what was happening around her. She liked uncovering lyrics that seemed to speak directly to the chaos in her life.
And right now, the song she was listening to felt like it was about Triss and her relationship with Philippa. She was certain of it. About how Triss must have felt—unseen, unnoticed. Yennefer often sang this song; she liked it, even though it didn’t apply to her at all. Because it couldn’t apply to her.
Could it?
“Cause I threw you the obvious
To see what occurs behind the
Eyes of a fallen angel,
Eyes of a tragedy
Oh well, oh well
Apparently nothing,
Apparently nothing at all
You don't, you don't
You don't see me.”
She stopped on the way at her favorite bakery, clipping Pontar’s leash to the post outside. He didn’t need a leash, he was obedient and perfectly trained, but the people milling around certainly did. Without it, they’d snap pictures or remark about how “dangerous” it was to leave a dog unattended. His wide red collar, marked with the words “RESCUE DOG,” elicited mixed reactions.
She entered the bakery and was immediately struck by the sweet smell of baked goods. She had a weakness for them, a huge weakness for sweets, even though she had raised her daughter teaching her that sweets were the greatest evil of all. That they are empty calories and that it is forbidden to take care of sorrows with sweets. She knew that what she was teaching was true, but she herself could not combat badly instilled habits and behaviors. And right now she was about to support her friend with something sweet. Something Triss likes.
But what was her favorite?
There were two people ahead of her in line. Yennefer glanced through the glass display case, rubbing her neck with one hand while clutching her wallet with the other. You’re such a great friend, she thought wryly. She had no idea what Triss liked. And yet, Triss knew exactly what she liked. That thought stung, leaving a faint pang of guilt.
She considered cinnamon rolls. Or maybe a rose-filled donut? Triss smelled like wild roses—Yennefer loved that scent. Anything rose-flavored was her favorite. Triss also smelled like raspberries. Maybe a raspberry danish? Or blueberry? It was blueberry season, after all. Or maybe…
“What can I get for you?” The elderly woman behind the counter interrupted her spiral of indecision.
“Um… I’ll have…” Yennefer hesitated but forced herself to decide. “That raspberry danish. And two of those cinnamon rolls.”
She watched as the woman packed the pastries into a paper bag. Then, on impulse, Yennefer added another raspberry danish and a few small croissant—she remembered sharing them with Triss once. And a cream puff. A big one, filled with whipped cream and fruit. Triss had to like at least one of these.
Leaving the bakery with her hands full, she still felt unsettled. She had probably overdone it. She could always leave half of it in the car and just bring one—or maybe two—things to Triss. Definitely the cream puff.
She glanced at Pontar, balancing the bags in her arms.
“I’ll be right back for you,” she said, raising her hands slightly to show him the burden she was carrying. “I overdid it, didn’t I?”
The dog gave her his version of a response, and she smiled. She jogged to the car, set the bags carefully on the passenger seat, and returned to Pontar.
A woman was taking pictures of her child standing nearby. Pontar sat obediently, not moving an inch. Yennefer offered them a faint smile, grateful that the boy had kept his distance and hadn’t tried to pet the dog.
“Is that your dog? Are you a rescuer?” the boy asked, ignoring his mother’s attempts to hush him as Yennefer approached to unclip the leash.
“Yes,” she replied calmly.
“He’s beautiful! What breed is he?” The boy’s curiosity was relentless, undeterred by his mother, who was gently tugging at his hand, clearly a bit uncomfortable.
“A White Swiss Shepherd,” Yennefer answered, smiling as she straightened up. Pontar, even on the leash, instantly aligned himself with her side.
“Wow… that’s so cool! Look, Mom!” the boy exclaimed, glancing at his mother.
Yennefer gave him a small wave as she walked away. She could feel his gaze following her all the way to the car. She was certain the boy was already begging his mother to get a dog—and not just any dog.
She stepped out of her car in the beautiful parking lot of the estate where Triss lived. She parked in her usual spot. Triss had never said she couldn’t park there, so Yennefer took it as tacit approval. Letting Pontar out, she clipped the leash onto his collar, tucking the rest into the pocket of her sweatpants. She knew her hands would be full of the bags of pastries, and the leash was more for appearances than necessity. Pontar, as always, walked obediently at her side, his steps perfectly synchronized with hers.
I bought too much, she thought again. Oh, well. Maybe Triss will laugh at her and, at the very least, smile.
They took the stairs up to the sixth floor, because elevators were for the weak. And the lazy. Life these days was far too convenient, and Yennefer, who refused to give in to all those conveniences, always chose the stairs when she could—even though a few muttered curses often accompanied her climbs.
When she reached Triss’s door, a small wave of unease washed over her. These were her doors, right? If not, she could just ask for the charming red-haired woman with the wild curls, and surely, someone would point her in the right direction. She was certain everyone in this building knew Triss and adored her. Because how could they not?
She pressed the doorbell with her elbow, her arms full of bags. The voice on the other side was unmistakably Triss’s.
“Come in.”
Yennefer glanced at Pontar and her occupied hands.
She pushed the door open with her elbow and let the dog enter first before stepping inside.
“Stay,” she instructed him immediately, then took a moment to look around.
The narrow hallway was neat and organized. To the left stood a slightly ajar door, likely the bathroom. Built-in closets nestled into wall recesses, and the hallway opened to the right, revealing the living room. There, a television, floor-length airy curtains, a modest coffee table, and an olive-green couch came into view. Plants adorned every corner, some lush and green, others dried and ornamental.
Closing the door behind her with her hip, she slipped off her shoes and moved deeper into the apartment. The living room blended seamlessly with the kitchen, where everything was a palette of white and black, accented with wooden textures. Olive-green details were everywhere—walls, chairs, and even the fridge. A fridge in such an unusual color. Yennefer smiled at the sight.
"What is all this? Have you lost your mind?" Triss greeted her as she emerged from the hallway. Triss was leaning against the counter near the coffee machine, barely touching the ground with her right foot as she moved toward Yennefer.
"Breakfast," Yennefer replied, her face tightening as she noticed Triss's limp. "Can you walk?"
She set the bags on the table and stepped forward, reaching out instinctively.
"I'm supposed to rest, but staying completely off my feet isn't an option," Triss admitted. "Coffee?"
"Yes, but sit down," Yennefer said firmly, guiding her to one of the olive-green chairs around the round wooden table. "I'll make the coffee. Let that leg rest."
She gently pressed Triss into the chair and turned toward the coffee machine, rolling up her sleeves as if preparing for battle.
Triss laughed softly and nodded as Yennefer approached the coffee machine. Two mugs were already set out, so she knew exactly what to do. She heard Triss calling Pontar, who immediately got up and trotted over, as if he had been waiting for the command. He placed his front paws gently on Triss's lap, following her instruction. Her leg, stiff and extended in its brace, was tucked slightly under the table. Yennefer hoped Pontar would be calm enough not to cause her any pain.
Triss buried her face in his thick, soft fur, murmuring something under her breath. Yennefer bit her lip at the sound and turned her attention back to making the coffee. She gave them a moment alone, letting them share that brief comfort. In Triss's modest apartment, Pontar seemed enormous.
"How are you feeling?" Yennefer asked after a while, setting the coffee mugs on the table.
"Tired. I think that's the best way to describe it... and a little sore," Triss admitted, reaching for the bag of pastries. "Could you grab some plates? They're in the cabinet near the fridge."
Yennefer did as Triss asked, feeling strangely at ease in her apartment. The plates were either white or olive-green. Naturally, she chose the latter.
She placed the plates on the table and sat down, tucking her leg beneath her.
"I didn't know what you liked..." she began sheepishly as Triss gave her a surprised look, taking in the sheer quantity of baked goods.
"You'll help me eat all this, right?" Triss laughed, pulling out a raspberry danish.
"On one condition: you tell me which one's your favorite."
"Deal." Triss smiled warmly and shifted to face Yennefer more directly. "How are things at the unit? Did Philippa say anything?"
"She threatened to fire us," Yennefer said with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent as she sipped her coffee. "Other than that, nothing important."
"Us? She threatened to fire you too?" Triss's voice was full of surprise.
"Yes."
"Because of me? Yennefer, I didn't mean to…"
"No, because of me and my remarks about Sheala," Yennefer interrupted.
"Could she actually do that?" Triss leaned forward, tearing a small piece from her danish.
"She's the chief, so... yes, she could." Yennefer watched her closely, noticing how much the thought weighed on her. "I never thought it would be possible, but if she said it, she's considered it."
She reached for one of the small crescent rolls that Triss had placed on a plate and slid it closer. Taking a bite, she hummed in satisfaction.
"These are delicious." She brushed the crumbs off her fingers. "Anyway, Philippa has been acting really strange lately. I have no idea what's going on, and I probably never will."
"I've noticed it too. It's not just about Sheala, is it?" Triss bit her lip, her gaze growing distant.
"Definitely not. She only mentioned work, but..." Yennefer trailed off, searching for the right words. "What could possibly be so complicated about running a rescue unit? I just don't get it..."
"Well, she does have a lot on her plate. Securing funding, managing your training..." Triss, as always, was trying to find justification, even for Philippa.
"That's still not the kind of thing that keeps you awake at night, Triss," Yennefer said, looking at her meaningfully.
"No, you're right." Triss sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "Did I pick the wrong time to break up with her? Is that why she's so angry at me?"
Yennefer felt a pang in her chest at the worry in Triss's eyes.
"Maybe," she admitted softly.
"I was so sure of myself when I went to her..." Triss leaned back, though her posture remained tense. "I had it all planned out. The perfect script, a million ways to answer her questions. But, dammit..." She looked at Yennefer with a sad smile. "It's Philippa. She looked at me with one of her perfectly practiced expressions, and I forgot everything. And she... she had her own script for the scene, and somehow, without realizing it, I played right into her game perfectly."
"You know that's all it was, right? A game. Don't take her words to heart," Yennefer said, leaning forward slightly, hoping to offer comfort.
"She said the same thing," Triss laughed bitterly, her gaze falling to her coffee. "That it was all just fun, and if I hadn't put my emotions on the table, we'd still be having a great time. But... I don't think my emotions are a bad thing. I know it was stupid of me to think there could be something more between us. But emotions aren't a weakness... I can't agree with Philippa on that. I just can't."
Yennefer bit her lip but didn't respond immediately. Her thoughts wandered. What was she supposed to say to Triss? That she didn't know? That she herself hid behind walls, thinking that as long as she maintained control, she was strong? That holding everything in made her strong? But maybe it didn't look like that at all. How hard was it for her to admit she cared about someone? Even when it was genuine, how difficult was it to say it out loud? Was someone who openly showed their emotions and spoke about them stronger? Was Triss stronger than both her and Philippa combined?
“I don’t even know when I started thinking there could be something more,” Triss continued, running her finger along the rim of her mug. “But I don’t think it was all my fault. Philippa had moments… moments of tenderness.” She winced at the word. “She let me hope, and I just let that hope grow. I was shocked that someone like her would even notice me. She offered me something—anything. A little piece, and I clung to it like it was everything. Like it was the whole world. Someone as perfect as her couldn’t possibly give me more attention than that.”
Yennefer snorted, unable to fathom how Triss could think Philippa was perfect. The thought irritated her to no end.
“Do you really think she’s perfect?”
Triss shrugged and took a sip of her coffee.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said after a moment, her voice soft.
“It matters,” Yennefer replied, her voice carrying a fiery edge she couldn’t suppress. “Because you deserve more than Philippa could ever give you.”
“Everyone says that. It’s nice of you, Yennefer, but I’m not…”
“I’m not saying it to be nice.” Yennefer cut her off with a scoff. “Don’t you know me better than that by now?”
Triss smiled faintly and reached for her raspberry danish. There was a flicker of amusement in her eyes, breaking through the sadness.
“Thank you for coming,” Triss said after a moment, her voice softer now. “I wanted to keep ranting about Philippa, but… maybe it’s a waste of time. Because… this wasn’t all in my head. She could’ve handled it differently, right? If I didn’t matter to her, if she has Sheala, she could’ve spared me the spectacle. She didn’t have to make me feel like garbage.”
"She could have and should have," Yennefer said, leaning in slightly, her voice softening. "She should've let you walk away and end things on your terms, without resorting to manipulation. I should've warned you this might happen."
"Stop, it wouldn't have changed anything," Triss replied, shaking her head. "But I do need to ask you for something else."
"Hmm?"
"Could you bring me my car?" Triss asked hesitantly, glancing at her nervously. "I know I can't drive, and I won't, I promise. But it's still parked out by the woods, and..."
"Of course," Yennefer said immediately. "Let me finish my coffee, and if you're okay with it, I'll head out and get it. Will you stay with Pontar?"
"Sure, I will." Triss glanced under the table, where Pontar lay sleeping peacefully between their legs. "I think he likes it here, don't you? Will he stay with me alone?"
"It looks like he likes you..." Yennefer said, her tone tinged with light sarcasm but entirely genuine. She knew Triss could tell.
Triss smiled, this time as sincerely as only she could. They talked for a while longer—well, Triss talked, and Yennefer mostly listened. Three weeks off from work meant Triss wouldn't be at the station. She seemed relieved about that, saying she didn't feel like seeing Philippa anyway, and she had enough notes to write her articles without visiting the unit. Plus, she had Yennefer—she could always help, right?
After finishing her coffee, Yennefer cleared the table, taking the mugs and plates to the sink. She wrapped the leftover pastries in their paper bags and placed them on the counter as Triss had directed. Meanwhile, Triss slowly made her way to the hallway closet for her car keys and registration documents. She handed them to Yennefer, carefully explaining the car's location and where to return it. Yennefer nodded—she understood, and if not, she could always call.
Before leaving, she helped Triss settle on the couch. The redhead asked for a book, promising to wait patiently. Yennefer commanded Pontar to stay with Triss and watch over her. The dog's tail wagged enthusiastically as he trotted over.
Triss patted the couch cushion, inviting Pontar up, but he paused to look back at Yennefer for permission. She shrugged and gave him a nod. Pontar clambered onto the couch with endearing clumsiness, turned in circles, and finally settled with his head on Triss's thigh.
They looked adorable, Yennefer thought as she grabbed her bag and left the apartment.
Outside, she weighed her options: call Geralt for a ride or order an Uber. She chose the latter, and thankfully, a driver was nearby. The trip to the forest parking lot where Triss's red Toyota waited was quick.
Yennefer hesitated at the car door, her hand on the handle. Cars were such personal spaces—at least for her. But there was no other choice.
She opened the door and slipped inside. The familiar scent of raspberries—unmistakably Triss—enveloped her immediately.
Settling into the driver's seat, she adjusted it for her shorter legs. Triss had longer ones. She checked the mirrors, ensuring everything was positioned correctly, then took a breath before turning the key in the ignition.
The car started smoothly, its engine humming quietly. After fastening her seatbelt, Yennefer reached up to adjust the rearview mirror. Her fingers brushed against a small charm—a tiny fox plush.
She couldn't help but smile, giving the little fox a gentle flick.
So very Triss.
Switching into reverse, she began backing out of the spot. The car was nimble and compact, a far cry from her own long station wagon that always needed more space to maneuver. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she got used to the feel of the smaller vehicle.
Before pulling onto the road, she reached for the radio and turned it on. Some station Triss had preset began playing. Maybe it was her favorite? Yennefer didn’t bother changing it; she didn’t like driving in silence anyway.
She pulled onto the road, adjusting quickly to the slightly higher clutch. It only took her a moment to get used to it. She leaned forward slightly over the steering wheel, not sitting as comfortably reclined as she did in her own car. The unfamiliarity of it all made her feel just a bit unsettled. The car was small—more spacious inside than she’d expected, but still a little too cramped for her liking.
Focusing on the road, she made her way back to Triss’s apartment. Parking was a breeze. The car seemed like it could fit just about anywhere, and lining it up neatly between the lines didn’t require much effort. Proud of herself for completing the task smoothly, she slid the driver’s seat back slightly but left the mirrors as they were—Triss would need to adjust them to her own preferences anyway.
Yennefer got out, locked the car, and double-checked the door to make sure it was secure. She bit her lip and walked around the car once, scanning it out of habit. Everything’s fine, she reassured herself, shaking her head at her own overthinking. With a brisk pace, she headed back to Triss’s apartment.
When she knocked, she heard Triss call out from inside. As she stepped in, she saw Triss still lounging on the couch, Pontar taking up most of the space beside her. The dog didn’t even lift his head when Yennefer entered, still asleep and clearly at ease in Triss’s presence.
“I think I parked it well,” Yennefer said, placing the keys on the low table near the entrance to the hallway.
“Thank you. I’ll feel better knowing it’s here,” Triss replied warmly.
“No problem. If you need anything else, just call.” Yennefer sat down beside them, running her hand over Pontar’s soft fur. “I could swing by in the mornings after work, just to check in and make sure everything’s okay.” She glanced at Triss’s leg and the brace on her knee.
“If you like, sure,” Triss said with a laugh, her hand also stroking Pontar’s fur. “I could use the company… and the professional care.” She grinned. “You won’t leave him here, will you? He’s like therapy just by being around.”
“I can bring him with me when I visit. That much I can do.”
“Maybe I should get a dog of my own…”
“A red cocker spaniel? It’d suit you.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious,” Yennefer teased, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “Alright, we should go. I need to get at least a little sleep before my night shift.”
“You’ll just sleep on duty. I know you,” Triss teased back.
“Probably.” Yennefer stood reluctantly. “Come on, Pontar.”
The dog opened one eye and gave her a look that said he wasn’t ready to move. Triss laughed, and despite Yennefer’s protests, slowly stood up from the couch.
“You don’t have to get up…”
“I want to see you off,” Triss insisted, leaning lightly against the wall for support. “It’s just a few steps.”
Pontar finally hopped off the couch, padding toward the hallway as he stretched. Yennefer couldn’t help but notice the fur left behind on the olive-green couch, shaking her head slightly at the sight. The dog waited by the door, wagging his tail.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Yennefer asked, pausing to look at Triss as she noticed her limping slightly.
“Yes, stop worrying.”
“I’m not worried.”
They lingered in the hallway for a moment, neither of them wanting to say goodbye first. Finally, Triss stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Yennefer.
For a moment, Yennefer froze, surprised by the gesture. But then she returned the hug, letting herself relax as the scent of wild roses and raspberries surrounded her.
“Thank you for everything,” Triss whispered, holding on a little longer.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Yennefer replied softly, letting the moment stretch a little longer. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” Triss said, stepping back slowly. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
“And don’t buy so many sweets next time!” Triss called after her as Yennefer reached the door.
“I can’t promise that,” Yennefer replied with a smile, clipping Pontar’s leash onto his collar.
She opened the door slowly and stepped out even more slowly. Part of her didn’t want to leave... not yet. She wanted to stay just a little longer to be absolutely certain Triss was okay.
She waited until she heard the sound of the door closing behind her before heading toward the stairs.
As she drove home, the midday heat had become unbearable. The sun hung like a blinding white dot in the perfect blue sky, glaring into her eyes and reflecting off every surface. Even a few moments in the hot car drained her energy, and she knew her long-haired shepherd must be feeling it even more.
She yawned repeatedly, sleep tugging at her with each passing minute. The coffee with Triss had barely dented her exhaustion from so many hours without rest. The warmth of their shared morning was fading into fatigue, and even the fresh air from the open window had lost its bite.
Her sluggishness vanished the moment she reached her house. Something glinted on the driveway in front of the gate. Sharp flashes of light bouncing off the ground. Glass. The thought hit her like a bullet, sending her foot straight to the brake. The car jerked to a stop, engine stalling.
"Shit," she muttered through the windshield. The morning's calm evaporated like mist.
Her driveway looked like a teenage rebellion's aftermath—beer bottles smashed for sport. She restarted the car and backed up, parking farther down the street. Her heart raced as she clipped Pontar's leash on and stepped out. The dog was no longer the relaxed companion who'd napped on Triss's lap an hour ago.
The sight of the shattered intercom panel and ripped-out mailbox twisted her stomach into a knot. She closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and opened the gate, allowing Pontar onto the property. Her hands trembled, but she clenched them into fists.
If life wants to test my patience, fine! Bring it on. She wouldn't back down.
She retrieved a broom from the garage and began sweeping up the glass shards, careful to avoid cuts. A steady stream of colorful curses accompanied her cleaning, though no one was around to hear them.
Yennefer had only two neighbors: to her left, a small house owned by an elderly woman who likely couldn't remember her own name; to her right, a large villa hidden behind tall walls, thick bushes, and towering trees that blocked even her balcony's view. Behind her house stretched open fields, and across the road lay vast meadows—typical for the city's outskirts. More homes would surely come, but for now, the area remained quiet.
So much space, yet she felt trapped.
This had always been peaceful, but perhaps that's what made it perfect for petty vandalism. Though nothing like this had ever happened before.
Or maybe it wasn't random at all.
She froze, that unsettling tension creeping back. That strange fear she was missing something, failing to see the whole picture. She glanced at her car. Another shiver ran down her spine. Closing her eyes, she tried pushing the thoughts away. She couldn't let them take over. Obsessively checking her car was paranoid enough—should she now inspect every inch of house and yard too?
But what if someone was here... what if this was intentional...
Shaking her head, she dumped the glass into the trash. Her hands still trembled, and despite the scorching midday sun, cold sweat trickled down her neck.
Once certain everything was in order, she opened the gate with the remote and pulled the car onto the property. She parked in the garage, telling herself it wasn't because of what had happened. It's hot, and the car won't heat up as quickly in the garage. That's all.
That makes sense, doesn't it?
As she stepped out and closed the gate, Pontar caught her attention. He was pacing near the gate, sniffing the ground intently.
Fuck...
If he smells something, there can be no mistaking it. She couldn't allow herself to believe it that much.
"Pontar, inside," she commanded, her voice steady despite her twisting gut. The dog obeyed instantly, turning toward the house.
If it were serious, he wouldn't have listened so quickly, right? Maybe he just caught a random scent? Or...
Damn it, screw this. She'd lose her mind thinking this way.
She poured a glass of cold orange juice, took a few gulps, and put it back. Her appetite had vanished. Leaving the kitchen, she headed upstairs. She needed a quick cold shower and sleep—both.
The silence hit her with each step. This wasn't the peaceful quiet of Triss's apartment. Here, every sound felt suspicious, every shadow too long. The house felt cold and empty, its stillness oppressive. She needed someone... anyone. The solitude was wearing her down.
And those damned "accidents" that wouldn't leave her alone. It couldn't be coincidence. She wanted to believe it was, but that felt impossible.
But why her? Who would want to do this?
She stopped halfway up the stairs, chest tightening. It wasn't just the glass or the broken intercom. It was everything—the loneliness within these walls and the unease lurking in every corner. Even Pontar had seemed more at ease at Triss's, curled up on her lap.
She stepped into the shower, letting cold water wash away her exhaustion. But the thoughts wouldn't rinse away. How quickly everything had shifted—from warmth and laughter to this suffocating silence. From safety to this strange, creeping fear.
Sleep. She needed sleep. But could she rest in this silence? Was it just fatigue and loneliness, or was there something real behind her paranoia?
Chapter 12
Notes:
A new chapter is here!
Thank you to everyone who reads and leaves feedback, as well as to those who read silently - I hope you're enjoying the story.
Happy reading everyone! 💜
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Without even thinking about it, Yennefer found herself driving straight to Triss’s place after every night shift. At some point, it had simply become part of her routine. These morning visits felt like a breath of fresh air, helping her maintain a sense of inner calm amidst the chaos of daily life. She dreaded going straight home, unsure of what she might find there. So instead, she stayed at Triss's, savoring the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and listening to her endless questions about details for her articles.
She told herself it was mostly for Triss. That the journalist would go crazy sitting at home alone with her immobilized knee. It was a convenient excuse, a safe pretense to hide behind. It was much easier to convince herself that she was doing Triss a favor than to admit how much she needed these quiet mornings herself. How much they had become her anchor.
Triss always greeted her with a steaming cup of coffee and a warm, genuine smile. Despite the relentless summer heat outside, Yennefer never felt like it was too much warmth. Sometimes, Triss needed help with her writing—technical details, explanations of complex rescue procedures. But more and more often, Yennefer caught herself losing focus on the text, instead watching her… The way Triss leaned over her notes, tilting her head in that familiar way, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way her chestnut hair cascaded around her face, forming a fiery curtain. How she was always surrounded by that unmistakable scent… Wild roses with a faint trace of raspberries.
Pontar loved these visits just as much. Every time Yennefer pulled into the parking lot outside Triss’s building, his tail would start wagging with puppy-like excitement. He knew exactly what was waiting for him. Not just a cozy spot on the soft couch, but the endless affection and attention that Triss always showered him with.
Yennefer felt needed, and focusing on helping Triss kept her mind occupied. Only after those visits would she return home. Still tense, but at least exhausted enough to fall asleep right away.
Nothing else had happened. No more incidents. But the tension never left, and that only made her need Triss even more.
By the middle of the week, the storms arrived, just as she had expected. Triss always remembered to check in on her, sending messages to ask if everything was alright, how she was feeling. Sometimes, she even called, chatting about anything and everything just to distract her. Yennefer wasn’t afraid of storms when she was in the building, but she never told Triss that. She liked hearing her voice, and this time she was fully aware of it.
On the night of her last shift before time off, Yennefer arrived at the station early. She couldn’t sleep, and there was nothing for her to do at home. Another storm was looming, heavy clouds gathering above the mountains, rolling forward like great, restless spirits. Slowly, inevitably, they were moving toward them. She preferred not to drive in the middle of the downpour.
She checked in with the Chief from the previous shift, and filled out her leave request. She dropped it off on Philippa’s desk, making sure to do so when the woman wasn’t there. She had no interest in facing her directly.
Afterward, she settled into the duty room, where the dispatcher was finishing up reports. The team had been busy that day, with multiple call-outs. They chatted for a while, waiting for the rest of her team to arrive—and for the storm to finally break. The first rumbles of thunder rolled in just as her shift mates started showing up.
Later that night, after the storm had fortunately passed farther west, Yennefer, along with Roche and Eskel, was dispatched to a woman experiencing chest pain. The unusual part was that she wasn’t in the mountains.
Yennefer was always assigned to these types of calls because she actually had a medical background. At least this time, the woman was at home, so she was technically safe. But chest pain was never something to ignore. Unfortunately, with no ambulances available and no emergency medical team free, their unit had been sent instead. The fact that the woman lived just a few hundred meters from their station had likely factored into that decision.
They arrived at the given address in under three minutes.
Yennefer quickly grabbed her medical bag and was the first to step toward the house.
An older man opened the door, ushering her inside. The woman sat in an armchair beside the bed, conscious but breathing heavily. One hand rested on her chest.
“Good evening, my name is Yennefer, and I’m a rescuer,” she said, approaching the woman, who was slightly breathless and sweaty. “Can you tell me what’s happening? Are you in pain?”
“Yes,” the woman answered weakly. “It hurts… here, on the left side… and my neck…”
Yennefer could hear Roche and Eskel entering behind her, greeting the older man. But just as they stepped inside, the woman lost consciousness.
Their reaction was immediate. They caught her and carefully laid her down on the floor.
“I don’t feel a pulse or breathing,” Yennefer said after checking for signs of life.
Roche immediately began chest compressions while Eskel prepared the AED. Yennefer knelt behind the woman’s head, her own heart pounding. She hated this moment. Just seconds ago, she had been talking to her, and now everything had changed instantly. But this was common. The moment a patient saw rescuers, they often felt relief, and the adrenaline keeping them stable would suddenly drop. Their condition could deteriorate within seconds.
“Central to Yennefer.”
“Go ahead.”
“We have a cardiac arrest, initiating resuscitation.”
“I will get an ambulance to you as soon as possible.”
Yennefer placed a mask over the woman’s face and tilted her head back to open the airway. Roche continued rhythmic compressions as Yennefer prepared the resuscitation bag. On his signal, she delivered two breaths, gently squeezing the Ambu bag.
Meanwhile, Eskel cut open the woman’s blouse and placed the electrodes in the designated spots. The AED’s mechanical voice filled the room.
'Stay clear of patient, analyzing heart rhythm.'
All three of them froze, watching the device, making sure not to touch the patient.
'Shock advised. Don't touch the patient. Charging.'
A sharp beep followed before the next command.
'Deliver shock now.'
“Hands off,” Eskel instructed.
Yennefer shifted slightly to ensure she wasn’t touching the patient with her knees, and both she and Roche raised their hands, signaling Eskel that it was safe. He pressed the button on the device, sending a jolt of electricity through the woman’s body, making it jerk slightly.
'Shock delivered. Continue CPR.'
No one spoke. Roche resumed compressions, this time following the steady beeping rhythm from the AED. Thirty compressions, two breaths.
'Analyzing the heart rhythm.'
The mechanical voice interrupted them again.
'Do not touch the patient.'
They pulled back once more.
'Shock advised. Charging.'
Another beep, followed by the final command.
'Deliver shock now.'
As usual, they raised their hands, making sure no one was touching the woman. Eskel, operating the AED, pressed the button again.
'Shock delivered.'
They repeated the cycle once more, and after the next shock, as Roche continued compressions, the woman’s breathing and circulation returned.
“We’ve got a pulse,” Eskel announced, glancing at the pulse oximeter clipped to her finger.
Yennefer exhaled, relief washing over her as the guys stabilized the woman and continued to monitor her condition. She reached for her radio.
“Central to Yennefer”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve restored vital signs, but we need transport to the hospital.”
“Ambulance ETA approximately 10 minutes.”
“Copy that, thanks.”
Those were always the longest 10 minutes.
She saw that the guys had everything under control. They covered the woman with an NRC thermal blanket and secured her onto a spine board. Yennefer hooked up an oxygen supply to the mask and then turned toward the terrified man standing nearby.
She reassured him, explaining everything that had happened in as much detail as possible, though she could tell her words didn’t make much of a difference. He was scared for his wife—and angry at himself. He knew she was sick, but didn’t even remember whether she had hypertension or hypotension.
People often found themselves realizing just how little they knew about the ones they lived with in moments like this. So, she took down whatever history he could provide—at least enough to pass on to the paramedics.
The woman’s condition remained stable.
When the paramedic team arrived, they reassessed the patient, disconnected the AED, and swapped out the pads for their own equipment. Everyone hoped it wouldn’t be needed again. The handover was quick and efficient, and moments later, the ambulance pulled away, sirens wailing into the night.
They packed up their gear, making a final effort to comfort the shaken man, who had by then called his son.
The ride back to the station was silent.
After calls like this, Yennefer always heard the AED’s commands echoing in her head for a while—that distinct, robotic voice stuck in her mind. She stared out the window, watching the wet sidewalks and massive puddles left behind by the storm. Just moments ago, that woman had been talking to her. And in a single heartbeat, her life had been hanging by a thread.
It happened so often… The sudden shift from everything’s fine to a fight for survival.
It never stopped shaking her.
Life was terrifyingly fragile.
She had already come face to face with death twice. And she couldn’t help but wonder—how many chances did she have left? She should have more, right? If she risked her life, saving others, surely that meant she deserved a few extra? That would be fair. It would be right.
But deep down, she knew she had probably already used them all. She didn’t want to think about it. And she definitely didn’t want to test it.
The rest of the night was quiet.
After work, Yennefer didn’t drive straight to Triss’s like she had every morning for the past week. This time, she turned in the opposite direction, heading toward Geralt’s house. It felt strange—breaking her routine, taking a different road, as if something in her world had shifted out of place. But she was going to pick up Ciri. That was what mattered.
She stopped at a red light. Without thinking, she reached for her phone, unable to resist the urge. She wanted to text Triss. She needed that brief connection, even if it was just a few words. She had spent entire nights waiting for these mornings.
'Had a cardiac arrest case.'
She stared at the screen before setting the phone down. The reply came almost instantly, as if Triss had been waiting for her message.
'What? In the mountains? The one time I'm on medical leave?'
The corner of Yennefer's lips lifted in a faint smile. She swiped her thumb across the screen and typed back:
'Fate's mocking you, Merigold.'
The green light forced her to put the phone down and focus on the road. But as she continued driving, it wasn't the route that occupied her thoughts—it was their conversation, filling the space in her mind.
At the next stop, her phone buzzed again. She looked at the screen.
'More like it's mocking you! At least I got a full night's sleep.'
Waiting for another light to change, she typed a quick response, keeping an eye on the shifting signals.
'Sleep is for the weak.'
'I'll remind you of that when you pass out reading in your chair again!'
Yennefer raised an eyebrow and sent a two-word reply:
'Shut up'
'Miss you too. Now go get some rest!'
She smiled, this time more openly, something warm settling deep inside her. She didn't reply, just pressed the gas as the light turned green. Taking the next left, she turned up the volume, letting the strong chords of the music fill the car.
The smile lingered, smaller now but still there.
All because of one stupid text from Triss.
Geralt opened the door with a coffee mug in hand. One look at her face, and without a word, he turned back to make another.
“Ciri still hasn’t dragged herself out of bed,” he said as she followed him inside. “You know how she is.”
Yennefer accepted the coffee with quiet gratitude. She was exhausted, and today, she’d missed her usual morning dose of caffeine at Triss’s. Settling at the kitchen table, she inhaled the familiar aroma. Geralt’s coffee was different from Triss’s, stronger. Once, it had been her favorite.
“Tough night?” he asked, sitting across from her.
“Tough week,” she admitted, then briefly mentioned her clash with Philippa, Triss's accident, and the late-night call. She blamed it all on exhaustion—because that was always at least partly true—but Geralt gave her that knowing look, the one that said he saw right through her.
“You don't have to tell me, but I can see something's weighing on you,” he said calmly. “If you need anything, you can count on me. No explanations necessary.”
“I know, Geralt, and I truly appreciate it.” She gave him a small, tired smile. “There are just some things I need to figure out for myself first.”
“I get it,” he murmured, sipping his coffee without pressing further.
That was one of the things she valued about him. He knew she'd come to him when she was ready. For now, they sat in comfortable silence, waiting for Ciri.
“Honestly,” Geralt said after a moment, “maybe this vacation will be good for you. You're exhausted, Philippa’s pissing you off…”
Yennefer glanced at him over the rim of her mug.
“It is strange that I'm going to your parents' cabin…” she admitted.
“Yen…” His tone was gentle. “It's not like they live there—they just rent it out to tourists. Besides, if you're staying there, they wouldn't dare show up.”
That earned him a small, amused smirk. His parents adored Ciri, but they had only ever tolerated Yennefer when she and Geralt were together. She preferred to avoid them, and she was certain the feeling was mutual.
“Maybe you're right about the vacation,” she conceded quietly. “I could use some peace and time with Cir… far away from all this.” She made a vague gesture in the air.
From the stairs came the sound of footsteps, and moments later, Ciri's long, skinny arms wrapped loosely around Yennefer from behind.
“So early? “ Ciri mumbled in greeting.
“You can sleep in at home,” Yennefer kissed the top of her head. “I missed you, my pretty one.”
“Me too,” she admitted softly. “I just want to be at the sea already.”
Yennefer smiled at her, feeling a strange mix of emotions stirring inside. On one hand, she did want to leave—she longed for the salty breeze, the open horizon, the time alone with her daughter. But on the other, the thought of breaking her routine, of pausing her daily mornings with Triss, unsettled her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Like today—skipping that morning coffee with her friend had left her with an odd sense of incompleteness.
She sighed inwardly, realizing how often lately every solution felt imperfect. There was always something missing, always something to give up.
She finished the last sip of her now lukewarm coffee and bid Geralt farewell with a warm smile. Then, together with Ciri, she headed home, where they both went straight to their bedrooms.
The morning greeted her with sunlight and silence. Yennefer opened the terrace doors, letting fresh air fill the house. Pontar slipped outside immediately, stretching before trotting off into the yard.
Summer mornings always held that fleeting magic. A moment when the dew hadn’t yet evaporated, but the sun was already promising another scorching day.
In the kitchen, she turned on the radio, lowering the volume, so the music was just a whisper in the background. The familiar rhythm of making coffee, the comforting scent of pancake batter—small, ordinary things that grounded her, made the world feel normal. Safe.
When Ciri was home, everything felt easier. Like her presence alone could chase away the shadows that had been creeping into Yennefer’s life lately.
She smirked to herself because it was ridiculous. She was the one who was supposed to make her daughter feel safe, not the other way around.
And yet… Ciri filled the house with life. With something that made the silence feel a little less suffocating. Was that love?
Definitely love.
What would happen when Ciri grew up and moved out? Would she be left alone with just Pontar? The thought hit her unexpectedly as she flipped a pancake. Her life revolved around shifts, rescue operations, and taking care of her daughter. Where in all of that was there room—time—for someone new? Did she even want that? She barely managed to find time for coffee with friends.
Who will fill that void with love once Ciri is out of the house and has a life of her own?
“Smells amazing,” Ciri appeared in the kitchen, yawning, her hair a complete mess.
“Good morning, sleepyhead” Yennefer smiled warmly. “How about a trip to the pool today?”
“Nah,” Ciri shook her head, sliding into a chair.” Maybe… I wanted to hang out with Cerys, but she's going on some trip tomorrow… to the movies and then a ropes course. She said there are open spots and that I could go too if you agreed.
“I'll call her mom and check the details, okay?” Yennefer said, placing a pancake on Ciri's plate. “If there's a spot, and you want to go, I don't see a problem.”
“Thank you.”
“So, we're staying home today?”
“Yep. I need to finish that book I borrowed from Cerys. It's about dragons!”
“Dragons again?” Yennefer rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lips twitched into a smile.
“Don't start,” Ciri stabbed her fork into the pancake. “You only read crime novels.”
“Not true.”
“Totally true!”
“At least my books are realistic,” Yennefer said, setting a warm mug of milk with honey in front of her.
“And the one I'm reading is super realistic!” Ciri perked up. “It's about a hunter who was supposed to catch a dragon because everyone thought it was evil. But it turned out people were the real villains, and the dragon was wise and noble. You should read it, Mom.”
“You won't convince me to like dragons, young lady,” Yennefer said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“He was a golden one! Can you imagine?”
“And let me guess… he could shape-shift?” Yennefer raised a playful brow.
“No… A dragon is a dragon, Mom. You should go on a dragon adventure sometime, I'm telling you.”
“What do I need dragons for when I have Pontar?” Yennefer gestured toward the dog, who had just entered the kitchen, drawn by the sound of their voices. “Look at him… he practically breathes fire the moment he sees food.”
Yennefer watched as Ciri laughed at Pontar's expression. He sat there, tongue hanging out, looking utterly ridiculous.
The next morning, they pulled up in front of the Montecalvo cultural center a little before nine. The moment Ciri spotted her friend waving from beside the bus, she practically leaped out of the car. Yennefer quickly signed the paperwork prepared by the trip supervisors. Cerys' mom had already taken care of everything after their phone call the previous day. All Yennefer had to do was drop Ciri off, sign a few forms, and pick her up at five.
She watched as her daughter melted into the group of laughing kids, feeling that familiar mix of pride and a touch of apprehension that always surfaced whenever Ciri took another small step toward independence. She waved at her once she was seated inside the bus, waiting for them to pull away. Ciri looked absolutely thrilled, and that was all that mattered.
Leaning against her car, Yennefer suddenly became acutely aware of the long, empty hours ahead. She didn’t want to go home… not yet. Two days had already passed since she’d last seen Triss.
She pulled out her phone, hesitating as she turned it over in her hands. Text or call? It felt a little silly to just invite herself over, but on the other hand… Triss was stuck at home with a messed-up knee.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit dial.
“Who calls at this ungodly hour?” Triss's laugh came through the speaker, though there was a slight tension in her voice.
“Me.” Yennefer felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile. “That strange?”
“No, but definitely a nice surprise. What's up?”
“I'm in town. Thought maybe you needed something?” Yennefer tightened her grip on the phone, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea.
“Yeah, I need to get the hell out of this apartment,” Triss sighed. “These little strolls around my building are driving me insane.”
“I'm free until five. We could grab coffee or…” Yennefer trailed off, leaving the suggestion open.
“Seriously?” Triss's voice instantly brightened. “You'd come pick me up?”
“I can be there in ten minutes.”
“You're amazing! Thank you!”
Triss's excitement was infectious, and Yennefer found herself grinning wider than she had all morning.
Hanging up, she slipped into the driver's seat and headed straight for Triss's.
Triss opened the door with a wide smile, motioning for Yennefer to come inside.
“Come in, I just need to grab my bag and phone,” she said, leaving Yennefer in the hallway.
Yennefer leaned against the wall, watching as Triss moved around the apartment. Her steps were steadier than they had been a few days ago, though the brace still limited her movements.
“You won't believe what I did yesterday,” Triss started, rummaging through her bag. “I went downstairs to buy bread and somehow ended up talking to all my neighbors. I was gone for two hours. Even chatted with someone's dog.”
“Talking to a dog? That doesn't surprise me at all,” Yennefer raised an amused brow.
“Where's Pontar, by the way?”
“Stayed at home,” Yennefer explained.
“And Ciri? Is she coming with us?”
“She's on a trip with Cerys,” Yennefer said, watching as Triss nodded.
“Oh, that's great! Though, kind of shame. She could've come with us. Actually, everything's all wrong lately…” Triss sighed, leaning against the counter. “Did you know there's a plant festival this week? I really wanted to go, but with this knee… I just don't feel like taking the streetcar in this heat. The brace makes everything so much harder, even though my leg hurts less now, and…”
“We can go,” Yennefer cut in.
Triss blinked, stopping mid-sentence.
“What?”
“The plant festival? We can go there,” Yennefer said with a small smirk.
Triss’s eyes lit up.
“Seriously? Oh gods, wait, I need my camera!”
“You're dressed perfectly for the occasion,” Yennefer noted, looking down at her airy dress.
White with pink and blue flowers, like a watercolor painting. Perfect for summer—the loose sleeves extended to her elbows, protecting her shoulders from the sun, while the high neckline managed to maintain the dress's overall airy feel. She moved with such grace that even the black knee brace seemed to disappear.
Yennefer couldn't tear her gaze away from Triss. Something about her movements was oddly captivating, almost hypnotic. When she realized she'd been staring too intently, a twinge of embarrassment crept over her. Had she actually gotten flustered? She cleared her throat, surprised at herself, and sat down at the kitchen table to regain her composure.
Grinning even wider, Triss flitted around the apartment, momentarily forgetting her injury. Yennefer watched in amusement as she gathered her photography gear, checking settings and tucking lenses into her bag. Despite trying to appear nonchalant, Yennefer found herself following Triss's every move, a mix of fascination and confusion stirring within her.
“Apparently, they'll have some really rare specimens! And there's supposed to be a stunning exhibit of carnivorous plants!” Triss was saying, her voice brimming with excitement as she checked her camera. “Oh! And handmade pots and macramé stands…”
She suddenly stopped, looking at Yennefer with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry… I think I got a little carried away.”
“Relax,” Yennefer replied.
She had a feeling this was going to be a great day. First, she had seen Ciri happily climbing onto the bus, and now Triss was practically glowing as she debated which camera lens to take.
“It's at the university's sports hall,” Triss said casually, glancing around her apartment. “I think I'll take my backpack…”
“I've got one in the car too,” Yennefer said, rising from her seat. “You can put some of your stuff in mine, it's almost empty.”
“Seriously?” she looked at her in disbelief.
“Yeah,” she confirmed, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I…” Triss lowered her gaze, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “I'm just happy.”
“I can tell,” Yennefer said with a warm smile. “Ready?”
Monday morning was perfect. Most people were already at work, so the roads were clear, and the parking lot by the university was nearly empty. Yennefer sighed in relief—she was never fond of crowds.
The moment they stepped out of the car, Triss was already leading the way toward the sports hall, limping slightly but far too excited to care about the brace. Yennefer found herself quickening her pace just to keep up.
“We have to check out the exotic specimens first—the entire exhibition!” Triss was saying, walking ahead with determination. “Apparently, they brought in some incredibly rare species…”
“I remember. You mentioned that…” Yennefer replied.
“Oh, I'll be talking about them a lot today, so you better prepare yourself,” Triss teased, throwing her a playful grin as she grabbed Yennefer's hand and tugged her forward.
“I think I'm ready for that challenge,” Yennefer said in an overly serious tone, matching her stride.
Before entering the main hall, they stopped in the lobby. The typical white university corridor had turned into an exotic jungle. Large windows illuminated special terrariums and display cases filled with the rarest specimens—ones that couldn’t be bought, only admired. The sunlight streaming through the glass created perfect conditions for photography. Triss looked happier than ever.
She had prepared her equipment in the car. Her camera hung across her shoulder, while the rest of her gear had been handed over to Yennefer, who wordlessly tucked it into her backpack. Years of carrying rescue equipment had taught her that a few extra kilograms made no difference. She herself carried only a phone and a wallet.
Yennefer watched as Triss moved between the exhibits, pausing every few moments to capture another shot.
“There are many stalls outside too,” Triss remarked, momentarily pulling away from her photography. “I saw some posts on Instagram, but first, we have to see everything in here.”
Yennefer hadn’t noticed when she herself started slowing down to observe the exhibits. Each one was meticulously arranged—illuminated display cases, a delicate mist floating inside closed terrariums, carefully arranged pots showcasing rare species. The green leaves shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the large windows, and the delicate flowers, some barely visible, looked like tiny masterpieces of nature.
She stopped by a display of carnivorous plants, intrigued by their unusual appearance. They were both beautiful and… dangerous. The slender pitchers of the nepenthe glistened with moisture, their interiors filled with a sticky substance meant to lure prey. Beside them stood Venus flytraps, their tiny “jaws” symmetrically open, waiting for movement. Even the sundews, seemingly fragile, drew the eye with glistening droplets of adhesive fluid, shining like dew-covered spiderwebs.
For a moment, Yennefer studied them in contemplation. They were built to survive. Deceptive in appearance—beautiful, yet lethal. She smirked slightly. There was something hypnotic about them.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Triss appeared beside her, lifting her camera. “Fascinating how nature can create something so elegant yet so deadly.”
Yennefer nodded, still gazing at the plants.
“A bit like people,” she murmured with a faint smile.
Triss gave her a curious look but didn’t comment. Instead, she leaned closer to the glass, searching for the perfect angle.
“If you ever decide to own plants, Yen, I think a Venus flytrap would suit you perfectly,” she teased, winking playfully.
Yennefer rolled her eyes, though the corner of her lips twitched.
“Oh? And what would I feed it with? Catch flies for it?”
“I don’t know, but it just fits you somehow,” Triss replied with a mischievous smile.
“I like these better,” Yennefer said, nodding toward a row of plants called the signature Sarracenia.
Triss glanced at the plants, then back at her with a spark in her eye.
“Oh, so you prefer the ones that pretend to be innocent before they strike?” she quipped.
Yennefer let out a quiet chuckle. She bit her lip lightly, consciously avoiding Triss's gaze.
“At least they do it with class,” she replied with feigned indifference, though her voice held a hint of playfulness.
Triss raised an eyebrow and shook her head with a grin before returning to her camera.
Yennefer pulled away from the display, moving on.
Beyond the glass doors, they could already see the heart of the event—rows of shelves filled with plants for sale. The spacious sports hall, modern, with a high ceiling and rows of windows letting in natural light, had been completely transformed. The shiny parquet floor was covered with black mats, carefully arranged shelves stood in neat rows, and designated pathways guided visitors through the lush greenery.
Near the main entrance, cash registers had been set up, and a small line had already formed. To the side, Yennefer noticed open emergency doors leading outside. Through them, she caught a glimpse of the sports field, where colorful tents housed craft stalls.
The typical character of a sports hall had disappeared beneath the dense vegetation. The air carried a pleasant scent of damp earth and fresh leaves, nicely with the scorching July heat outside.
Yennefer took in the scene, pleasantly surprised by the calm that filled the space. Most of the visitors were waiting in line at the registers, leaving the aisles nearly empty. The greenery seemed to absorb the sounds, creating a soothing, almost intimate atmosphere.
She didn’t have long to enjoy the moment, though—Triss immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her to the right, beginning a methodical tour of the entire exhibition, inspecting every single shelf. Without even asking if she needed it, she handed Yennefer one of the two red baskets she had picked up.
Every few moments, unfamiliar names poured from Triss’s lips—words that to Yennefer sounded like a foreign language. She recognized maybe a few basic species, but watching Triss, who spoke with an excited flush on her face as she described each plant, she was certain her friend knew them all.
Triss kept snapping photos, both with her camera and her phone—not just of the plants, but also of the care instruction cards attached to them.
“Oh, I have one of these at home!” she would exclaim now and then, eagerly showing Yennefer different plants. “And this one is in my bedroom! And that one—I got that from my mom…”
Yennefer couldn't help but smile. Seeing Triss so completely immersed in something she loved was simply… fascinating.
For the next half hour, they wandered through the aisles, with Yennefer watching as Triss paused at different plants, admiring them, taking pictures. Eventually, Triss stopped in front of a shelf full of succulents, let out a heavy sigh, and looked at Yennefer with sadness in her eyes.
“What's wrong?” Yennefer asked, concern immediate in her voice.
“How am I supposed to choose?” Triss spread her hands helplessly. “I'd love at least two new plants, maybe some succulents for the bathroom, but…” She glanced wistfully at a row of tiny, pink rosettes. “There are so many beautiful ones. How do I pick just a few?”
Yennefer felt the tension leave her shoulders. This was such a Triss thing, wanting to adopt every plant at once.
“Which ones do you like the most?” she asked as they entered another aisle, filled with fleshy-leaved plants.
Triss took a deep breath, savoring the heavy scent of damp earth.
“All of them!” she groaned, throwing her arms up.
Yennefer burst into laughter, stopping beside a small plant with thick, dark green leaves speckled with white spots.
“Do you have one of these?” she asked, pointing at the Haworthia that had caught her eye.
Triss stepped closer behind her and, before Yennefer could react, rested her chin on her shoulder, leaning in to examine the plant.
"I don't," she finally replied, jutting out her lower lip in her usual pretend-sad, offended expression, though her eyes sparkled with joy. "It's lovely. It'll look beautiful in a white pot. I wonder if it can survive in the bathroom."
Yennefer cleared her throat, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Triss's proximity. The faint scent of raspberries suddenly cut through the earthy smell of the plants, becoming unexpectedly intense. Everything felt… intense. It shouldn't, right?
“I don't know… read the tag,” she said, keeping her tone neutral despite the sudden flutter in her chest.
“I'm getting it anyway,” Triss declared, reaching for the pot. “It's gorgeous.”
“I like it too,” Yennefer admitted, but Triss was already moving on.
Suddenly, Triss spun around, eyes bright with excitement.
“Yen!”
“What?”
“Pick a plant for me!”
Yennefer blinked, caught off guard by the request.
“I don't know what you already have.”
“That doesn't matter!” Triss waved a hand dismissively. “Want to make it fun? I'll pick one for you, and you pick one for me. What do you say?”
“Should I get you a flowering one?”
“I don't know,” Triss laughed. “That's for you to decide!”
“Should we look through everything again?”
“We can circle back at the end.”
“How's your knee holding up?”
“It's fine, let's keep going. Just one rule, ok? Choose something small, like mug-sized or smaller, okay? I'm running out of space at home.”
“I was wondering where you'd fit anything new.”
“I'll make it work,” Triss muttered, scanning the area. “What about yours? Can I pick something bigger?”
“Maybe, but I prefer smaller plants.”
“Perfect! Let's go!”
Whenever she stopped to examine a shelf, Triss would peek at her and quickly look away with a giggle, her eyes alight with pure joy. Yennefer found herself drawn to this side of Triss again—her genuine excitement and love for life were captivating.
While browsing, Yennefer listened to other visitors' conversations and studied their selections. She considered a flowering plant—Triss loved color—but the choices seemed endless. The purple and white blooms caught her eye, yet something was missing
Then she spotted the violets. She'd always loved them. Without hesitation, she picked up two: one pink, one blue. Moving on, she tried to keep the basket out of Triss' sight, stopping only at the palm tree rack.
“Is that for me?” Triss shot her a mischievous glance.
“For Ciri and Cerys,” Yennefer replied, placing two Chamaedorea palms into her basket. Their feathery leaves perfectly hid the colorful violets. She’d surprise the girls when they got back from their trip. They were easy to care for, purified the air, and if looked after properly, could bloom with tiny yellow flowers. “You have one of these at home, I’ve seen it,” Yennefer added.
“I do, that’s right. They’re beautiful,” Triss agreed, then looked around eagerly. “Shall we keep shopping?”
“Got anything else besides that little plant?”
“No, it's not that simple, Yen.”
“I barely have any plants at home.”
“But you're quite particular.”
“You're exaggerating…”
“And it needs to be safe for the dog…”
Yennefer looked at her in surprise.
“Oh, right.”
Triss smiled and shrugged as if it were the most natural consideration.
“I'd think about my favorite canine friend. Many plants are toxic to pets, though with his training, I doubt he'd try eating your flowers…”
Yennefer bit her lip. It touched her that Triss would consider him.
“Pontar will definitely appreciate it.”
Triss nodded and returned to browsing through the plants.
Yennefer wandered between the shelves until one particular plant caught her eye. The pots were placed quite low, and this one was tucked away behind larger specimens. Philodendron Micans. Her gaze lingered on its deep green, velvety leaves that absorbed the light, reflecting it with a soft, silky glow.
She stopped and gently touched the leaves. Though she knew plants preferred not to be touched, these felt special. The plant was modest yet captivating—it didn't demand attention with bright colors or try to stand out. Instead, it possessed a hidden beauty, subtle and understated, as if waiting for someone to discover it.
She picked up the pot and turned it in her hands. Though the vines were still short, she could tell they would eventually cascade down in delicate, trailing tendrils. Yennefer glanced at the small tag attached to the pot- 'hanging plant.'
Triss had mentioned something about macramé. Yennefer smiled to herself. This plant practically begged to be hung in the perfect spot. She had found exactly what she was looking for.
She was just about to carefully place the plant into the basket when a little girl stopped beside her.
“Ooh, Grandma, look! The leaves are shaped like little hearts!”
Yennefer froze.
Hearts?
She glanced at the plant again. Only now did she notice that each leaf was gently rounded, resembling small, imperfect hearts.
“They really are,” said the elderly woman standing next to her. “A plant like that brings joy to a home.”
Yennefer suddenly felt a wave of warmth spread through her. Had she just picked out a heart-shaped plant for Triss?
She knew it was just a coincidence, but still… something twisted in her stomach. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to put it back.
It suited Triss, and she wanted to give it to her.
Without thinking any further, she discreetly shielded the pot with the palms, as much as she could, trying to act as casual as possible. Though, she had the strange feeling that everyone around her could somehow read her thoughts.
A moment later, she caught up with Triss, who was clearly ready to see what she had chosen. Yennefer felt a slight warmth on her cheeks, though she wasn't quite sure why.
“What do you have there?” Triss tried to peek into her basket, keeping her own hidden behind her back.
“Nothing interesting.” Yennefer playfully nudged her aside with her hip, laughing.
The sound of her own laughter surprised her. It had been a while since she’d laughed so freely.
“Not true!” Triss tried to circle around her from the other side, hobbling in an exaggeratedly dramatic fashion. “Then I won’t show you mine either!”
“Careful with your knee.” Yennefer grabbed her elbow, still smiling, but there was a note of concern in her voice. “Leave my secrets alone.”
“Secrets?” Triss widened her eyes theatrically. “Now I have to see!”
“Not happening.” Yennefer shook her head and shielded the basket with her arm. “You’ll have to wait.”
Triss pouted in mock disappointment.
“Fine… Then you’ll have to wait too!”
They wandered between the aisles for a while longer. Triss stopped at nearly every new plant, examining it with fascination, while Yennefer's attention drifted from the flowers to her companion. She had already found what she was looking for.
Eventually, Yennefer herself came to a halt in front of a display of carnivorous plants. There were several varieties of Sarracenia lined up on the shelves.
“Found your plant?” Triss stood beside her. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s nice and small,” Yennefer replied, not taking her eyes off the plant. “I’ll take it.”
Triss leaned in to read the label.
“They’re easy to care for. And it’ll look great in your kitchen window.”
Yennefer placed the small Sarracenia into her basket.
“Shall we keep going?” Triss asked, slowly moving ahead.
“Don't chase me Merigold”
She looked over her shoulder, smiling teasingly.
Time passed peacefully. By the time they finally reached the checkout with their baskets full, Yennefer noticed the hall was growing more crowded. The cashier was handling Triss’s plants, listening attentively as she excitedly explained each choice.
Yennefer kept slightly to the side, making sure her basket stayed out of Triss’s sight—just as she tried not to look at what Triss had picked out for her.
Earlier, they had agreed to pay separately, since the plants were meant as gifts.
The cashier placed their plants into small plastic crates to make it easier to carry them to the car.
When they finally reached the parking lot and opened the trunk, they could at last exchange their choices.
“These are for my little girls.” Yennefer took out the two palm trees and set them aside. She glanced at Triss, who was already rummaging through her basket. “Wait… I have something for you first.”
Gently, she pulled the philodendron from behind the palms. The velvety leaves shimmered in the sunlight as she handed it to Triss.
Triss looked at the plant and fell silent for a moment.
“Yen…” she exhaled softly after a while, slowly turning the pot in her hands. Her fingers delicately traced over the heart-shaped leaves. “It's beautiful.”
“You mentioned macramé… I thought it might go well with one.” Yennefer shrugged slightly, trying to sound indifferent.
Triss beamed and continued gazing at the plant as if it were something precious.
“It's perfect.”
“Before we move on…” Yennefer pulled out both colorful violets. “Pick one. It’s for you.”
Triss looked at her in surprise.
“Really?” She leaned over the pots as if she were making a decision as serious as the ones she made inside the hall. “They’re gorgeous! But… which one do you like more?”
Yennefer shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter. You choose.”
Triss finally reached for the pink violet, carefully lifting the pot in her hands.
“I’ll take the pink one,” she said softly, running her fingertips over the soft petals. “It’s lovely.”
“And this one will be mine.” Yennefer announced, placing the blue violet into her basket.
Triss looked up at her, and for a brief moment, her eyes seemed even bluer than usual.
“In that case…” She reached into her own basket and pulled out two small pots. “A Sansevieria, simple and easy to care for. A perfect decoration for your bedroom, but keep it away from Pontar," she added, lightly biting her lip.
“I will.”
“And the second one is a small cactus, so you’ll remember me.”
Yennefer arched her eyebrow, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“A cactus to remember you by?”
“Of course!” Triss grinned widely.
“That’s not very fitting, Triss. You’re not prickly.”
“Maybe not, but did you know cacti can bloom if you treat them right?”
Yennefer studied the tiny plant, its delicate spines glinting in the sunlight. A familiar spark of interest flickered to life within her.
“Is that a challenge, Triss?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Maybe,” Triss replied, her voice playful. She pointed at the tag on the pot. “But that's also just what the label says.”
Yennefer's lips curved into a slight smirk. Challenge or not, she found herself drawn to the idea of coaxing a bloom from this tiny, prickly plant. For some reason, this exchange of gifts felt more significant than it should.
After securing the plants in the trunk, they returned to the artisan stalls. Yennefer watched as Triss meticulously examined the macramés, feeling their textures and testing the strings. Meanwhile, she browsed a ceramics stand featuring hand-painted pots with delicate patterns, each one unique. She selected two small green ones for Ciri and Cerys, then chose a white pot with black ornamental designs for the tiny cactus—which, perhaps one day, really might bloom.
Triss finally decided on two woven macramés in shades of ecru. She explained how their natural colors would perfectly complement both the philodendron and her apartment. She had a clear vision for it, and though Yennefer couldn't quite picture it herself, she found herself nodding along, simply enjoying listening to Triss talk about things that excited her.
They took their time exploring the stalls, moving at a leisurely pace as Triss chatted enthusiastically and struck up conversations with vendors, radiating pure joy. By the time they returned to the car, they were famished.
Triss couldn't stop talking about hanging her new plant, and Yennefer felt unexpected happiness knowing her gift would have a special place in her friend's home.
After the festival, Triss suggested a cozy restaurant with a garden near the city center. Her knee, though well-supported by the brace, would appreciate the rest. Yennefer agreed without hesitation, suddenly aware of her own hunger after their leisurely exploration. She had almost forgotten about Triss's injury, having been so caught up in their time together, and hoped their slow wandering hadn't aggravated it. Triss quickly eased her concerns with a reassuring smile, saying her knee felt perfectly fine.
They chose a shaded table away from the main entrance. Triss ordered a large salad with grilled salmon, while Yennefer chose pasta with spicy sauce. Their conversation flowed naturally from topic to topic.
When dessert time came, Triss insisted that Yennefer had to try their famous tiramisu. They lingered over coffee and cake in the cool shade, talking about everything and nothing. Yennefer couldn't remember the last time she'd sat with someone for so long. She was usually mindful of time, always with somewhere to be or something to handle. And yet, here she was, sipping her coffee, simply… being.
Only a message from Ciri and the time flashing on her phone screen jolted her out of that perfect bubble.
“Oh, shit,” she nearly jumped out of her chair. “It’s quarter to five!”
Triss burst out laughing at the look on her face.
“Stop laughing, I'm going to be late picking up Ciri!” Yennefer scanned the restaurant for their waitress.
“How did the time fly by so fast?” Triss glanced at the empty dessert plate.
“I didn't even notice the time passing,” Yennefer shook her head in disbelief. “Will you come with me to pick her up? I'll drop you off later.”
“Of course,” Triss smiled.
Yennefer quickly gathered her things and went to ask for the check.
When Yennefer pulled into the parking lot in front of the center, the bus was already there, and parents were picking up their children. She stepped out of the car, reaching into the trunk for the plant she had picked for Cerys. Triss got out with her, and together they headed toward the girls.
Ciri and Cerys were sitting on a low wall next to the chaperones, deep in conversation, as if the whole day spent together hadn't been enough. Yennefer glanced at Triss. She now understood that feeling; she had spent the entire day with Triss and wasn't the least bit tired of her company.
“This is for you,” she said when the girl looked at her in surprise. “The same as Ciri's. You can take care of them together.”
Cerys' eyes lit up with excitement. Ciri, who had just stood up, approached Triss, but her mood was noticeably off.
“Where have you been?” She asked, glancing at Triss unusually intently.
“At a plant exhibition,” Triss replied with a smile.
“What happened to your leg?” Ciri eyed the brace carefully.
“I went to the mountains and turned out to be too difficult for me,” Triss smiled at her and winked. “Luckily, your mom saved me.”
They chatted for a while until Crach arrived to pick up Cerys. After saying their goodbyes, the three of them headed to the car.
During the drive to Triss' apartment, Ciri sat quietly in the back seat. Yennefer kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror, noticing her unusually subdued expression.
“Everything okay?” she asked gently.
“Don't feel like talking,” Ciri muttered, staring out the window.
“Okay. I love you, remember.” Yennefer nodded, respecting her choice.
When they pulled up in front of Triss' building, Yennefer got out to help with the plants.
“I got it,” Triss shook her head with a smile. “These baskets were a great idea.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Triss glanced toward the car, where Ciri was still sitting. “Stay with her. I think she needs you more.”
Before Yennefer could respond, Triss added softly, “Thanks for today. You saved me from going crazy in that apartment.”
“Me too. Thanks for the plants… and the company.”
After saying goodbye, Yennefer returned to the car. On the way home, Yennefer kept glancing at Ciri through the rearview mirror, noticing her unusually subdued expression. As the silence stretched on, Yennefer finally broke it.
“Do you want to talk now?”
“There were… two girls. Older,” Ciri finally said, her voice quiet. “And they laughed at me.”
Yennefer felt her grip on the steering wheel tighten.
“What were they laughing at?”
“Everything,” Ciri shrugged, but her voice wavered. “At my hair. That I’m tall. That my legs are skinny…”
She paused. Yennefer waited patiently.
“And then Cerys and I won at climbing. We were the best and fastest on the whole course,” she added, even quieter. “And… they laughed, saying we were like boys…. and… and that climbing is not for girls….”
In the mirror, Yennefer saw Ciri wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to pull over, hug her, tell her those girls were idiots. But she knew that wouldn’t help.
“What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
Yennefer asked gently, though inside, she was boiling with anger at those girls.
“I don’t know… can we just stay home?”
“Of course. We can invite your friends, the nice ones, not some little divas,” she added, trying to lighten the mood.
Ciri let out a quiet snort, exactly like Yennefer did when she was upset.
“Maybe we can finally watch that movie on the projector in the yard. You promise me every summer…”
“But you always fall asleep early…” Yennefer reminded her with a smile.
“Mooom…”
“We can do a movie night under the stars. We’ll make snacks, and you can invite whoever you want, okay?”
“Triss too?”
“You want me to ask her?”
“If you like…”
Yennefer was surprised by the question but quickly realized it was actually a good idea. She just wondered if Triss would be up for spending an evening with a bunch of girls who thought they were grown-ups. But knowing her… she’d probably love it.
When they pulled into the driveway, Pontar was waiting for them, his tail wagging wildly as he barked at the approaching car. Ciri immediately ran to him, wrapping her arms around the big, fluffy dog. Yennefer watched them, grateful for Pontar's presence in their family. She knew how much she herself appreciated his company.
This day had been exceptional. Even though Ciri hadn't returned from her trip in the best mood, she knew it would be another valuable lesson for her daughter. Ciri had a safe place to process her feelings, with Yennefer there, genuinely trying to understand, and Pontar unknowingly doing his part.
Had she learned anything today? Perhaps that with proper care, even a cactus could bloom. She smiled as she reached into the trunk for the tiny plant. She would definitely invite Triss to their outdoor movie night. She was incredibly curious to see her reaction.
Notes:
Yes, yes, I know the plant Yennefer chose for Triss sounds a bit like her ex's name (Philodendron... Philippa... see what I mean?), but let's not dwell on that! Yennefer didn't make that connection either...
Let's just say she wasn't exactly thinking... straight. 😉
Chapter 13
Notes:
There's a new chapter! ☺️
I wanted to get it done by this weekend, and I (almost) made it just in time. Enjoy reading, and thank you to those who are still here with me despite the word count and slow pacing.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Yennefer drove with her focus split between the road and the heated debate about what movies were appropriate for teenagers. Were eleven-year-olds even teenagers? When did that stage actually start? She barely remembered how she’d felt at that age… It was a strange time in life.
Ciri and Cerys sat in the back, firmly voting for a horror movie. Not surprising for their age, at least according to some parenting guides. The need for controlled fear, the thrill of safe terror. Horror movies could satisfy that need, but finding an appropriate one for… children was tricky. Because that’s what they still were, no matter how desperately they tried to be grown-up.
In the passenger seat, Triss turned slightly toward the girls, listening to them with mild surprise.
Yennefer was grateful she had agreed to this backyard movie night, despite the inevitable challenge of entertaining four teenagers demanding horror films.
She needed Triss to help her stay sane and keep up her energy through the chaos. Yennefer genuinely enjoyed hosting Ciri’s friends and organizing these little events, but they drained her. Social gatherings required her full attention—focus, emotional presence, and the ability to solve problems that, most of the time, shouldn’t even be problems. How did you fix an issue that didn’t actually exist? Sometimes, it felt just as exhausting as a rescue operation.
Triss’s presence always helped her breath, so this arrangement felt perfect for both of them. Triss got out of the house for a bit, and Yennefer had another adult with her. A sane adult.
Though, watching Triss effortlessly bond with Ciri and Cerys, she started to wonder if she really had an ally when it came time to enforce the rules.
She slowed to a stop at the red light and glanced in the rearview mirror, fully expecting the yellow motorcycle in the next lane to speed up and slip through the changing signal.
To her surprise, it stopped right beside them.
Triss let out a quiet sigh, completely mesmerized.
“Damn, it’s a woman…” Her voice had a tone that made something twist in Yennefer’s chest. Sting of jealousy. Again.
“That’s so cool!” Ciri leaned toward the window. “Mom, I need a motorcycle like that!”
“Don’t even think about it,” Yennefer replied automatically, and just then she had this ridiculous idea.
Unable to hide her smirk, she reached for the door panel and rolled down the passenger window.
Triss, who had been staring at the motorcyclist with unfiltered fascination, turned to her with wide, horrified eyes.
“Triss is blushing!” Cerys called out from the back seat.
The motorcyclist noticed the motion and Triss's reaction, lifting her hand in a casual wave and tilting her head. Like something from a movie, she cut a striking figure—her yellow helmet matched her bike perfectly, while her black leather riding suit hugged her frame, and a long blonde braid spilled out from beneath the helmet.
Triss returned the wave hesitantly before immediately sinking into her seat, as if willing herself to disappear. She covered half her face with one hand, trying to hide both an utterly adorable smile and the deep blush spreading across her cheeks.
Yennefer was certain that all this flustered embarrassment only made her look even more attractive.
When the motorcyclist blew Triss a playful kiss through her helmet visor, the girls in the back seat erupted into delighted squeals and laughter.
“This is just like a romance movie!” Cerys cried, while Ciri giggled.
The light turned green.
The motorcyclist sped off, raising a hand in farewell, and Yennefer rolled the window back up before driving forward—barely holding back her own laughter.
“What was that?!” Triss smacked her thigh in mock outrage.
“Triss is in loooove!” Cerys sang from the back seat.
“I am not!” Triss spun around to face the girls. “That was… that was…”
“A total crush!” Ciri finished. “Just like in those movies Mom watches…”
“Ciri!” Yennefer tried to sound stern, but amusement colored her voice.
“What?”
“Maybe we should watch a romantic movie instead of horror,” Yennefer suggested.
She wasn't particularly fond of romance films, but in this case, they'd be better than some gruesome horror.
“No!” both girls protested in unison.
“Don't change the subject,” Triss pointed accusingly at Yennefer, who only smiled. “You can't do that.”
“I can't make any promises.”
“Yennefer!”
“If I had known you swoon at the view of female motorcyclists, I would have rolled down windows sooner.”
“I was not swooning!”
“Almost,” Cerys giggled.
“Mom, can we please get a motorcycle?” Ciri leaned forward, eyes hopeful.
“No. And sit properly, unless you want to go back to a booster seat.”
Ciri grudgingly adjusted her position, mumbling something that made Cerys snicker. But she wasn't ready to let go of the motorcycle dream.
“What if I'm older?”
“No.”
“But if…”
“No, no, and no.” Yennefer shook her head firmly.
“When I grow up, I'll buy one anyway.”
“No.”
“Give her a break,” Triss cut in, grinning. “Weren't you supposed to leave your weirdness at home?”
“I never said that.”
“Well…”
“Maybe I should catch up to that motorcyclist?” Yennefer mused.
“No!” Triss burst out laughing, while the girls in the back erupted in excited shouts.
“Yes! Go after her, Mom! Do it!”
Yennefer shook her head, grinning.
Triss turned back toward the window, feigning composure, but her twitching lips gave her away.
It was one of those moments that made everything feel lighter, easier. Deep down, she felt a strange pang seeing Triss smile—especially when that smile was meant for someone else. But that was the point, wasn't it? To make Triss smile again, to help her move past Philippa and all the other toxic relationships.
They pulled into the driveway, where Pontar ran freely around the yard. Yennefer had left him outside as a watchdog, though his oversized plush toy appearance might undermine his effectiveness as a deterrent.
The girls tumbled out of the car immediately, racing after the dog. Yennefer and Triss grabbed the grocery bags from the trunk—filled with snacks and ingredients she'd picked up earlier—and headed inside.
Their mission was to prepare snacks and dinner before everyone settled in for movie night. And, of course, pick the right movie.
In the kitchen, Triss sliced fruit and prepped vegetables while Yennefer worked on the pizza dough. Two massive homemade pizzas were on the menu—healthy, filling, perfect for a movie night.
She loved how naturally they moved together in the kitchen. Without discussion, they had split the tasks and now worked side by side, sipping iced coffee and talking about everything and nothing.
“So,” Triss began, expertly slicing strawberries, “about those romances Ciri mentioned…”
Yennefer rolled her eyes.
“Don’t start,” she muttered, kneading the pizza dough with more force than necessary.
“I’m just saying, if you’re watching romantic movies alone at night…” Triss’s voice took on a teasing tone.
“At least I don’t swoon over random motorcyclists at traffic lights.”
“I did not swoon!” Triss pointed the knife at her in mock warning, but the barely suppressed smile on her face ruined the effect entirely. “And she wasn’t random. Did you see that motorcycle? It was incredible.”
“No, I was too busy watching you turn into a tomato.”
“You’re the tomato!” Triss shot back with a laugh, shaking her head before returning to the strawberries. “But more importantly… what are we actually watching tonight? Something that won’t give them nightmares but still scratches their need for a thrill.”
Yennefer paused mid-knead as an idea struck her.
“Jurassic Park?”
“Oh!” Triss’s eyes lit up. “Actually, that’s perfect. A classic.”
“It’s scary enough! Who isn’t afraid of Rexy?”
“Rexy?” Triss looked at her in amused disbelief.
“That’s the T. rex’s name, come on! Everyone knows that.” There was an unexpected hint of excitement in Yennefer’s voice.
“I’m pretty sure no one knows that, Yen. How do you even…”
“I loved that movie as a kid,” Yennefer admitted, her eyes flashing with rare enthusiasm. “Rexy is the best, but after watching it, I was terrified of going to the bathroom at night.”
“I was always scared of the raptors in the kitchen,”
“Really?” Yennefer grinned. “Should I warn you before opening the cabinets?”
“Shut up and make the pizza,” Triss laughed, tossing a strawberry stem at her. “But I’ll admit, it’s a genius choice. We might even sneak in a little learning.”
“Oh, no way, Triss. That movie is full of inaccuracies.” Yennefer shook her head.
“For you, the only thing that matters is that it teaches proper safety measures,” Triss teased, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “That’s basically your life motto, isn’t it? Safety first? You should get a tattoo.”
“Are you mocking me, Merigold?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
From outside came the sound of laughter and Pontar’s excited barking. Yennefer glanced through the window, watching as Ciri and Cerys chased each other around the yard. Despite her feigned irritation, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of their carefree joy.
They were still working on the food in the kitchen when Iola appeared, her long dark hair tied into a messy braid. Not even ten minutes later, Katja arrived as well, bringing extra snacks her mother had insisted on sending. Together with Ciri and Cerys, the four girls immediately got to work, building a nest of blankets and pillows. The sun was slowly dipping toward the horizon, but no one intended to go to sleep anytime soon.
Sleeping arrangements had been carefully planned. Ciri and Cerys would share Ciri’s room, while Iola and Katja would take the guest room upstairs—technically, Ciri’s second room.
Triss was sleeping downstairs, in what Yennefer called her study. Though it wasn’t exactly an office—she rarely worked there—the room was lined with bookshelves filled with books she had been collecting since childhood, a massive armchair, and a rather comfortable couch where Yennefer often napped after long shifts. She loved that space, especially in winter, when she could curl up under a blanket with a book, away from the open kitchen and living room. The study was smaller, cozier, wrapping around her in its four walls. It was the perfect place to rest.
For the movie night itself, she and Triss had claimed the lounge chairs. Triss needed something comfortable for her still-healing knee, and given the conditions Yennefer endured at work, she had no intention of denying herself some comfort either, so she grabbed the second chair for herself. Meanwhile, the girls had transformed the space into something wonderfully cozy, though Yennefer had no idea where they had found such an impressive collection of blankets and pillows in her house.
They carried out the food, covering everything with mesh to keep the bugs away, and lit two torches to fend off mosquitoes. It created the perfect atmosphere. They set up their lounge chairs behind the girls’ blanket nest. It was a nest—a dragon’s lair. At least, that was what she gathered from all the excited shouting. And apparently, they were the dragons. Four dragons, each representing a different element. Such mature teenagers. Yennefer smirked to herself.
Ciri, however, wasn’t fully convinced when Yennefer announced Jurassic Park as the movie of the night, but Triss somehow swooped in and worked her mysterious magic, managing to persuade her to give it a chance. The other girls were thrilled.
Yennefer let them handle the last round of popcorn, salty snacks, and colorful cups with straws. Once everything was ready, she pulled out the projector and her laptop, hoping the internet connection would hold. She should have checked earlier. If there were any issues now, four teenagers could turn out to be just as dangerous as velociraptors.
Luckily, everything worked perfectly, and the creamy color of the garage wall didn’t even affect the picture quality much. The back wall of the garage had no windows, was completely smooth, and large enough to make the movie feel like something special.
Finally, everyone settled into place, and the film began. Pontar crawled into the middle of the girls' nest, most likely lured in by the sheer number of blankets and pillows. The laptop speakers did an okay job with the sound, but that wasn’t the point. They were watching a movie outside, under the open sky. That alone made it magical.
Yennefer kept an eye on the flickers of lightning in the distance. They had started the film late. Early August days were still long, and the projector needed dusk to work properly.
She spotted a flash of lightning just as she glanced at Triss, the storm building behind her in the distance. It gave her an excuse to look that way. Obviously, she was just watching the weather. But she also caught Triss’s reactions to certain moments in the movie. They tried to whisper a few comments, but the girls quickly reminded them that talking during a movie was strictly forbidden. They both shook their heads, but had no complaints. The night was too perfect to argue.
Fortunately, the weather held until the credits rolled. The girls wanted to stay outside, sleep under the stars—transforming from dragons into dinosaurs—but Yennefer wasn’t willing to take that risk.
Keeping a pleasant tone, she firmly ushered all four of them inside. They had to go to bed, though she knew they’d likely spend at least another hour running around upstairs. That was fine, as long as they stayed upstairs. Let them do what they wanted.
The girls took their blankets and pillows with them. Yennefer turned off the laptop and projector before folding up her lounge chair. Triss stood up and stretched, glancing over at her.
“You could’ve let them stay outside. It’s a nice night,” she said, gathering her blanket and pillows. “The storm will probably miss us.”
“I’m not taking that chance. I’d rather have them under a roof. It’s safer that way.”
Triss simply nodded and helped her clean up.
It was so simple.
They collected everything, Yennefer stowed the chairs in the garage, and Triss slowly put out the torches. The girls had already tidied up after themselves, so all that was left for them was to gather the dishes from the table. They carried everything back inside. Triss walked at a slower pace with her brace, but Yennefer didn’t mind. She matched her step without a second thought, not wanting to rush anyway. There was something soothing about this—this slow rhythm at the end of the day when everything settled down.
They left everything in the kitchen, and Yennefer led Triss upstairs, offering her a hand as they climbed the stairs. She showed her the bathroom, pausing briefly to gently remind the girls that it was actually bedtime.
While Triss got ready for the night, Yennefer returned downstairs to prepare the room. Spreading out fresh sheets and fluffing the pillows on the couch, she caught herself wanting everything to be perfect. As if it mattered. As if this wasn’t just one night.
She went back to the kitchen and tackled the dishes, listening to the soft sounds of Triss moving around upstairs. The house was slowly winding down for the night, and with it, she felt a strange sense of peace.
“Don’t be startled if Pontar comes looking for you,” Yennefer said as Triss slowly made her way back downstairs to the room prepared for her, still moving carefully. “He sometimes seeks company at night.”
“I can’t blame him for that,” Triss replied with a soft smile.
Yennefer joined her and switched on the tall floor lamp, filling the room with warm, honey-colored light. She watched as Triss took in the space, and suddenly, everything here felt more personal.
“How many books do you have?” Triss asked, stepping closer to the bookshelf and tilting her head slightly to read the titles.
Yennefer felt a sudden urge to stand beside her.
“This is just a small part,” she replied, moving closer. “The rest are upstairs, and…” She stopped mid-sentence when Triss reached out for a book, her fingers brushing against the spines of others.
“Can I borrow one?” Triss turned to her, holding a book in her hands, and that’s when Yennefer realized how close they were standing in the soft glow of the lamp.
This light suited Triss.
“If you like,” Yennefer shrugged, feeling her heartbeat quicken as Triss absentmindedly ran her fingers along the book spines. “But I have one condition.”
“Oh?” Triss glanced at her with a twinkle in her eye.
“I’m…” Yennefer hesitated, searching for the right words. “…pretty particular when it comes to books.”
“Pretty particular?”
“Fine, I’m ridiculously obsessive,” Yennefer admitted, allowing herself a small smirk. “I’ve been terrorizing Ciri for years. No dog-eared pages, no tea stains, no cracking the spine, and absolutely no reading in the bath.”
“In the bath?” Triss looked genuinely horrified at the suggestion, and Yennefer barely stopped herself from laughing. It was ridiculous how much she enjoyed this reaction. How much she enjoyed everything Triss did.
“Ciri tried. Once,” she said, shaking her head in mock seriousness. “Never again.”
Triss let out a quiet laugh, and for the first time, Yennefer didn’t try to ignore the way that sound affected her pulse. It just happened, and she had no idea why.
“I solemnly swear to treat them like the most precious treasure,” Triss lifted her right hand in a theatrical gesture. “Satisfied, Madame Librarian?”
“Hmm.” Yennefer pretended to consider it, though her voice was soft. “That’ll do.”
She watched as Triss skimmed through more titles, and she felt—really felt—like she was losing control of something bigger than herself. She needed to step back, even though she was never one to run.
“Do you have everything you need?” she asked, taking a step away. “Extra blankets are in the dresser, in case you…”
“Yes, everything is perfect,” Triss turned to her with that quiet certainty of hers. “Thank you.”
“Then… goodnight.” Yennefer took another step back toward the door, trying to keep herself composed. Normal. “If you need anything…”
“Don’t worry, Yen. Goodnight”
Yennefer left, closing the door behind her, maybe a bit too quickly. She climbed the stairs, feeling her heart hammering in her throat. She didn’t want to think about this. Not now.
She paused by the girls’ rooms. Silence. At least they were already asleep.
Sliding into the bathroom, she let the cool water cleanse her body.
By the time she collapsed onto her bed, exhaustion hit her harder than she’d expected. Within moments, she was asleep.
Morning pulled her out of sleep with a restless dream, yanking her back into reality abruptly and unkindly. A dull pressure settled in her head—she either needed coffee or just a little more sleep. She turned onto her other side, burrowing deeper into the pillow. She loved slow mornings, but then she remembered: the girls were here. And Triss. She should probably get up.
With a sigh, she threw on loose shorts and a tank top before heading downstairs.
She found Triss sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee, scrolling through her phone. Pontar lay at her feet, his tail lazily thumping against the floor the moment he spotted Yennefer.
The sight made her pause. Her usually empty kitchen felt different. It was… a nice change.
“Morning,” Yennefer said, finally making her way to the coffee machine. “Everything okay?”
Triss looked up from her phone with a soft smile. “Yeah, thanks. Hope you don’t mind. I made coffee.”
“How dare you make coffee in my kitchen,” Yennefer said dryly, reaching for a mug. “This is definitely breaking and entering.”
Triss laughed, her earlier hesitation disappearing.
“What now? Are you going to lock me here with a pack of velociraptors?”
“You’re never letting this go, are you?” Yennefer rolled her eyes, reaching for the bread.
“Absolutely not,” Triss grinned over her coffee.
Yennefer shook her head with a secret smile. She didn’t really mind. She liked this.
She busied herself with preparing breakfast, not wanting to leave the kitchen in silence. Then, one thought crossed her mind—tomorrow, she was back on shift.
“So… you won’t be at the station this week?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“No… technically, I’m still on medical leave. And I have a few articles to write.”
“Mhm.”
“But I hope you’ll be sending me daily reports.”
“If you remind me,” Yennefer smirked, though that wasn’t exactly the kind of… cooperation she had in mind.
“Oh, I will.” Triss’ smile was playful, but then she hesitated. “I’ll be back after your vacation. If I come back at all…”
“If?” This time, Yennefer couldn’t quite hide the disappointment in her voice as she looked at her.
Triss gave a small shrug.
“I don’t know if Philippa even wants me there anymore. And even if I do come back, I probably won’t be at the station all day… Feels like a waste of time.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s different when being on standby is your job. I’m just there to write.” After a beat, she added softly, “I… don’t really need to be there.”
“If you say so.” Yennefer hummed, just as she heard footsteps on the stairs. She was sure it was Cerys. That girl was always the first one up.
Breakfast turned out to be… loud. Triss effortlessly joined in the girls’ chatter, as if she were eleven herself, enthusiastically discussing the idea of dressing Pontar up as a dinosaur. The dog must have understood the suggestion because the moment Yennefer opened the terrace door, he bolted outside.
After Katja and Iola’s parents picked them up, Yennefer drove Cerys and Triss home along with Ciri. When she returned, the slight mess and misplaced things around the house served as a reminder of the time well spent.
That evening, she still had to take Ciri to Geralt’s, and tomorrow marked her first day shift.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t miss work that much.
Sunday, August 4, 6:50 a.m.
Yennefer's house, Zamirath
The sound of rain drumming against her bedroom window didn’t surprise her at all. She had seen the forecast and expected this, the clouds had already gathered the evening before, dark and heavy. For a moment, she longed for the warmth of the weekend, for the girls' laughter and Triss’s presence. But that was two days ago. Today, she had only the rain… Monotonous, relentless, as if nature itself had no better idea for this Sunday. She just hoped the weather would improve for their vacation because by the end of August, it sometimes felt like autumn had already arrived.
She got ready quickly. Pontar jumped into the car, clearly displeased with his damp fur. She decided to skip her usual breakfast stop—she would have oatmeal at work, and she tossed a few pieces of fruit into her bag.
The downpour didn’t promise a particularly busy day. Few people hiked in such weather, and those who did usually have at least some common sense, or at the very least, good shoes.
Sunday turned out to be brutally boring. Yennefer was still strangely angry at Philippa. It was because of her that Triss was stuck on medical leave instead of being here with them. She felt her absence even in something as mundane as making coffee.
Theoretically, everything was just as it had been before Triss joined them as a media liaison. The problem was that Yennefer had already grown used to her, and without her, everything felt… off.
Triss had appeared out of nowhere and stirred things up. That’s exactly what had happened.
Chaos. But an exceptionally pleasant kind.
The vibration of her phone pulled her from her thoughts.
‘Yennefer, I think I have a problem… actually, we have a problem.’
She frowned, staring at the screen. There was something puzzling about this. If it were urgent, Triss would have called. She reached for the phone to reply immediately but hesitated. Instead, she shoved it back into her pocket and tried to keep herself occupied, yet the device seemed to burn through the fabric, refusing to let her be.
‘What have you done this time, Triss?’
The reply came instantly.
‘Nothing! I’m reading the book you gave me, and one page has a folded corner. I just wanted to report that it was already like that.’
‘That’s impossible…’
‘I swear! I have a picture!’
‘That’s not proof. You could’ve folded the page yourself and pretended it wasn’t your fault, Merigold.’
‘But it wasn’t me! That’s how it was… How am I supposed to prove it?’
‘Figure something out…’
‘I will…’
Yennefer was about to put her phone back in her pocket when it vibrated again in her hand.
‘Take care of yourself.’
She knew those weren’t just empty words, and that knowledge made her feel a slight pressure in her chest.
But it wasn’t a bad kind of pressure. There was no nervousness, no tension or stress like in the cave. It felt more like holding her breath, anticipating something wonderful.
Yes, that was it.
A smile tugged at her lips. The warmth in Triss's words was genuine—though if she had actually damaged the book, she really should watch out. Yennefer knew pretending to be angry with her would be particularly difficult. Exceptionally so.
She remembered how she had felt when Triss started showing up at her shifts. How she had wanted to run, to shut herself off, how distracted she had felt in a place that was supposed to be hers. Now, everything was just as it had been before, and Yennefer realized how painfully ordinary it all seemed.
When this exceptionally long day finally came to an end, she was relieved, but coming home wasn’t as good as she had expected. Her new mailbox was overflowing with flyers, as if someone had dumped them all in one spot instead of bothering to distribute them across Zamirath. They lay scattered and soaked on the driveway, staining the concrete with colorful smears of ink.
She wanted to ignore them. She drove into the garage, telling herself it wasn’t her problem. But she knew it would bother her. What if someone slipped? A child, maybe? There were too many ways an accident could happen, and she couldn’t just brush it off and act irresponsibly.
She wished the rain would wash everything away, clear it all, let her forget… but she knew that was an illusion. That wasn’t how things worked.
With a sigh, she bent down and gathered the rain-slicked papers, smearing mud on her hands and soaking herself to the bone. Pontar waited for her by the door, safely tucked under the small roof, shielded from the water pouring down from the sky.
The house was quiet and empty. Dinner, a shower, bed. The routine she needed more than ever today.
She settled into the soft sheets and glanced at the small cactus on her nightstand. She bit her lip. A cactus to remember Triss by. In some strange way, it made sense, but the truth was, she didn’t need anything to remind her of her. Triss was always in her head, like a melody she couldn’t forget, surfacing at the most inconvenient moments.
Then, she reached for her phone and opened Instagram. Triss had been posting less now that she was stuck at home. She scrolled through Triss’s stories. A picture of the rain outside, a shot of her lunch, a book resting open on her lap. The perfect way to spend a rainy day. But it felt… sad. It was different, and Yennefer realized that sad might be the right word. It was the rain… Rain could be depressing, right?
She turned over, listening to the steady rhythm of raindrops against the windowsill. Sleep didn’t come easily. She kept shifting, restless, unable to quiet her mind.
It was only when Pontar jumped onto the bed—apparently just as displeased with the lack of company as she was—that she finally drifted off.
But her sleep was uneasy. Again.
The following days brought lighter rain, and sometimes the sun even peeked through the clouds, but it didn’t make things any better. She shouldn’t have been paying so much attention to the green mug sitting in the cabinet next to her own every time she made coffee. Or to the empty chair in the duty room, the one Triss had claimed for herself.
And yet, the images appeared in her mind uninvited, unwelcome. Though… were they really unwelcome?
Her phone stayed in her pocket during work hours, as always, but she was acutely aware of its presence. It weighed on her. She was waiting for a message from Triss, pretending she wasn’t. Another thing she had suddenly realized.
They exchanged a few texts throughout the day, but Yennefer saved the best ones for the evening. She liked scrolling through Triss’s Instagram and was slowly beginning to understand why people got addicted to social media. For a moment, she even considered posting something herself—she had plenty of photos of Pontar—but in the end, she didn’t. A fleeting moment of weakness. She didn’t give in.
When Thursday finally arrived, she got confirmation that she wasn’t the only one feeling Triss’s absence.
Yennefer was sitting in the duty room, reviewing the schedule for the upcoming fall and winter training sessions, when Crach checked his watch and sighed.
“Triss could at least drop by with donuts… She always brought them on Thursdays.”
“I see you got used to it,” Yennefer muttered without looking up from her documents.
“And you didn’t?”
She lifted her head, but Crach had already turned back to his computer.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she went back to reading, but focusing on the text was impossible. Thursday donuts. It was true. Triss always brought them something sweet. Yennefer hadn’t even realized when it had become a habit.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on Crach’s words, though. While she was still in the break room, a call came in. A man had reported himself lost. He had been out foraging for mushrooms and lost his sense of direction. He had tried to find his way back to the road, but all he could see was a “weird-looking rock.” His description helped narrow down the search area, but Crach still sent out a full search team.
Finally, something that required her full concentration, but without the urgency of a high-risk operation. There was no immediate danger to life or health. A perfect excuse not to think about things circling in her head.
They found the man fairly quickly and escorted him back to the road. He was unharmed, just disoriented. He had been walking while looking at the ground, and by the time he finally looked up, he had no idea where he was. Yennefer knew this was only the beginning, the season of lost mushroom pickers was officially starting. As soon as the first mushrooms appeared, so did the reports of people going missing.
Her prediction about search missions proved true sooner than expected. By Saturday, they had another call, but this time, it was different. This time, a terrified father reported his older daughter missing. The girl had suddenly wandered off, and though he searched for her, taking care of his younger daughter at the same time made it impossible. He called for help immediately, without hesitating.
Yennefer felt the shift in the unit’s atmosphere the moment the report came in. A missing child was always different. Always more personal, for everyone. Whether they had children of their own or not.
They arrived at the scene quickly, the whole team in tow. The off-road vehicle pulled up on the forest path next to the frantic man, who was holding a crying four-year-old in his arms. Roche, as the team leader, stayed by the car to gather detailed information, while the rest of them got to work. Crach had planned out the entire operation, and they had all the necessary data on their trackers.
“This is my fault, all my fault,” the man kept repeating, his younger daughter burying her face in his neck. “We were having a competition to see who could find the biggest mushroom, but Olivia got caught in those sharp bushes. I helped her, and when I turned around, Lena was gone. I called for her, I searched, but with her in my arms, I couldn't do much. My wife won’t get here for at least another hour…”
Yennefer understood it all too well. One second of distraction, one glance in the wrong direction—that was all it took. With two kids, it was nearly impossible to be everywhere at once.
They received a photo of the missing girl, a seven-year-old in a red hoodie and jeans, with a unicorn-shaped bucket. At least she was wearing bright, visible colors. The father also mentioned a stream they'd passed that the girls had loved, giving them some kind of reference point.
Yennefer took point with the dog as usual. Pontar sniffed the girl's backpack that had been left in the car. They had her scent now, so the dog knew exactly what he was looking for. Syanna walked with her, maintaining radio contact while Yennefer focused on Pontar.
“Have you ever lost Ciri?”
“Almost. She disappeared from my sight in a store when she was little…” Yennefer kept her eyes on Pontar, the memory still fresh. “But she started screaming, and I found her quickly. I can’t even imagine losing a child in the wilderness…”
“Do you think it was the father's fault?”
“No, that's not what I mean,” Yennefer shook her head. “I can understand how it could happen, kids have a way of slipping out of sight. But I can't imagine what it must feel like to stand here, calling for them, and having no idea which way to go…”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever have kids…”
“It’s a damn tough job. Not as rosy as everyone makes it out to be.”
“That's exactly what I’m afraid of…”
They continued walking in silence. The search area was vast, and the sun was slowly descending, ready to disappear beyond the horizon in a few hours. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of the child having to spend the night in the forest.
She gave Pontar a command, allowing him to range farther ahead, though she disliked working this way. Losing sight of him meant trusting that he would manage on his own and that nothing would happen to him. After the search operation in May and the gunshot they had encountered, she couldn’t shake the fear. That underlying unease had followed her everywhere lately.
Pontar’s task was to cover as much ground as possible in the shortest amount of time. It was exhausting for the dog. He couldn’t work like this for long, which is why she rarely chose this method. But right now, it made sense. In about four hours, the second shift would arrive with another search dog and take over. Until then, they had to do everything they could.
Pontar remained out of her sight for a long stretch. She and Syanna spoke calmly, but both were fully focused on the task. When working with the guys, there were usually more jokes, more teasing. Working with another female rescuer felt different, but neither approach was better or worse—just different. Each team had its strengths and weaknesses. Today, Syanna’s quiet focus suited her more than humor meant to ease the tension. At least, that’s what she told herself.
The forest was turning golden, the warm hues flooding the spaces between the trees, overpowering the green and casting long shadows. They still had some time before sunset. Hope stayed with them until the very end.
As Syanna was giving another report to Roche, Pontar suddenly appeared in the distance. He caught Yennefer’s gaze and barked, loud and insistent.
That meant one thing. He had found something important. Important enough to come back for her and lead the way.
She ran after him, keeping him in sight this time. Syanna was already relaying the update to the team, so Yennefer didn’t have to think about it.
Pontar led her through the forest, through thick underbrush filled with thorny branches that snagged on her uniform pants, as if trying to hold her back. She ignored them. The dog was moving decisively toward a cluster of fallen trees, likely brought down by the last storm.
He stopped at last, glancing between her and a large tree trunk, barking loudly in that distinct way he did when he had found something.
Yennefer took a few more steps and she saw her.
A small figure curled up against the tree trunk, knees pulled tightly to her face.
Yennefer bolted forward, tossing Pontar his favorite toy as a reward for completing his mission.
“Hi, I'm Yennefer, I'm a rescuer,” she said gently, kneeling beside the girl and extending a hand toward her. “I'm going to take you back to your dad, okay? What's your name?”
“Lena,” the girl whispered through tears. “Where's my dad? I just wanted to find more mushrooms… but he's nowhere…”
“Your dad is with your sister, waiting for you,” Yennefer kept her voice calm and reassuring. “What happened? Does anything hurt?”
“My arm…” Lena started crying again. Her entire body was trembling and shivering. “I slipped and fell between the trees. I tried to get up, but it hurts even when I walk…”
Yennefer quickly took off her backpack, unzipping it in one smooth motion.
“Lena, sweetheart… look at me. I'm going to help you, okay? I'll secure your arm so it doesn't hurt as much, and then we'll take you back to your dad.”
The girl shuddered, burying her face in her knees.
“It hurts…” her voice was barely above a whisper, full of tears.
Yennefer moved closer, slowly extending her hand, almost touching her. She didn't want to scare her. She needed to gain her trust.
“May I?” she asked softly.
Lena nodded hesitantly, but the moment Yennefer gently touched her elbow, she let out a cry and started sobbing even harder. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, cradling her injured arm. Her big green eyes, red from crying, reminded Yennefer of Ciri.
“Maybe my dog can help?” Yennefer suggested quickly, calling Pontar over. “You can pet him, he likes that.”
Pontar approached them calmly and lay down beside Lena, pressing himself gently against her from the other side. The girl lifted her teary gaze to him, then hesitantly reached out with her uninjured hand to touch his soft fur.
She stroked him for a while, her body slowly relaxing. Her knees moved slightly apart.
That was a good sign.
Yennefer pulled a small splint from her backpack, perfect for a tiny hand like Lena's.
“I need to place your arm on this splint and wrap it with a bandage. After that, we can leave here, okay?”
“And it won't hurt?” Lena looked at her, hopefully.
“It will…” Yennefer bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to lie. “At the hospital, they'll give you something for the pain.”
“Can't you give me something?”
“No… but I can do it gently, as carefully as possible.”
Lena shook her head, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
“I don't want it to hurt…”
Yennefer felt a rush of heat rise to her head. She needed to find a way to get the girl to cooperate, but she wasn't going to lie to her. She watched Lena for a moment, searching for the last bit of patience to carry the weight of the child's emotions.
“What if you help me?” she blurted out suddenly. After all, kids this age loved to help, loved feeling important just like adults.
Lena blinked.
“How?”
“You'll put the splint on yourself, and I'll just help. How about that?”
The girl wiped her cheeks with her uninjured hand and sniffled, then looked at her with curiosity.
“It's easy, look.”
Yennefer slowly demonstrated how to do it, speaking as if it were both a fun game and an important task for big kids. She threw in a few silly jokes—not that she was particularly good at them when it came to children—but it was enough to bring the faintest smile to Lena’s face.
That was all she wanted. All she needed.
Focusing on the task, Lena carefully slid her little arm into place while Yennefer gently adjusted her movements and secured the splint. She leaned over the girl as if shielding her from the rest of the world. The pain hadn’t disappeared, but at least it wasn’t the only thing occupying Lena’s mind anymore.
Through the radio, she heard that the rescue team was ready for transport and waiting by the forest road, barely thirty meters from them. She quickly confirmed that everything was under control and that they’d be heading over soon. For now, it was just the two of them, the dog, and the splint. And they were doing just fine.
As Yennefer wrapped the secured arm with a bandage, Lena started crying softly again. This time, it was more out of exhaustion than pain. She could see how the little body relaxed, surrendering to what had just happened. If not for Ciri and the countless times she had observed her daughter’s reactions, trying to understand her better, she might not have noticed it at all.
Yennefer exhaled, feeling the tension slowly leave her own body. Calming children and handling their emotions was always more draining than the actual rescue. Logic and explanations didn’t help them; they needed something more.
She fastened the sling to further stabilize Lena’s arm, then gently helped her to her feet. The girl immediately snuggled up to her, grabbing her T-shirt with her good arm.
Yennefer wasn’t entirely prepared for this, but she didn’t step back. She simply cast a knowing glance at Syanna, who stood a few meters away, ready to assist if needed but not imposing herself. Then, she moved toward them.
“I'll carry Lena, but I need your help with my backpack,” Yennefer said.
“Of course, I’ll take it. You two just follow me, but carefully, Yen,” Syanna replied with a soft smile before turning to the little girl. “You have a beautiful hoodie, Lena. You look just like us,” she added, gesturing to her uniform.
“She even put her own bandage on,” Yennefer said proudly, and she saw a small, shy smile appear on Lena’s face. The girl didn’t say anything, but she nestled closer into her.
Children had a special place in Yennefer’s heart. She bent down, carefully lifted Lena, minding her injured arm, and signaled for Pontar to stay close behind. As she walked after Syanna, the little girl clung to her like a baby. She was so light, as if she weighed nothing at all. Yennefer realized she could no longer remember when Ciri had been this small. And yet, it hadn’t been that long ago. Time was merciless.
Inside the vehicle, she gently laid Lena down on the stretcher, but the girl refused to let go. Her healthy hand clung tightly to Yennefer’s shirt, so she simply stayed on the floor beside her, gripping the seat for balance while telling lighthearted stories to distract her from the pain.
Eskel drove slowly, avoiding bumps and keeping the ride as smooth as possible. Pontar lay beside them, watching over Lena.
The little girl only let go when she saw her parents.
Her father reached her first, but just moments later, her mother came running as well. The woman pressed her lips together when she looked at Yennefer, then simply pulled her into a hug.
Yennefer stiffened. Unlike holding the child, this wasn’t comfortable for her. But she didn’t pull away either—only because she was a mother.
She could imagine what this woman had gone through. Receiving a call that your child had vanished into the forest? She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“Thank you…,” Lena’s mother whispered before turning back to her family.
The little girl was transferred to the waiting ambulance and taken to the hospital, her mother now holding her hand. Yennefer watched them drive off before returning to base with the rest of the team.
She was exhausted… More mentally than physically.
But she was relieved. They had found Lena in time. She was safe. She didn’t have to spend the night alone in that forest.
By the time they got back to the station, there was barely an hour left on her shift. Perfect.
Ahead of her was a full week off, preparations for her trip with Ciri, and for once, she genuinely couldn’t wait.
She quickly restocked her backpack, replacing the splint and bandages, then headed down the hallway to the duty officer’s room to write her report. She noticed the others joking around with Pontar, laughing and messing around, but she wanted to get the paperwork done before allowing herself to relax.
“Fuck, I’m so done…” Yennefer muttered as she stepped into the duty room.
And then she saw her.
Triss was sitting in her usual spot next to Crach, as if she had never disappeared from their daily routine, as if the entire past week without her hadn’t even happened. As if her absence had been nothing but an illusion.
On the desk sat a familiar box of donuts, filling the room with their sugary scent.
Yennefer felt her cheeks flush with heat. Her muttered curse hung awkwardly in the air, completely improper.
Triss lifted the corner of her lips in a soft smile.
“Tough call?”
Yennefer nodded, allowing herself a moment to simply stand there. Triss’s presence was both surprising and strangely natural.
“I ate your donut,” Crach broke the silence, handing her a report. “Triss mentioned you failed to pass along my official complaint that she should have called me when she got stuck in the mountains.”
“Your complaint was irrelevant.” Yennefer gave him an unimpressed glance before turning to Triss. “How’s the knee?”
“No brace since yesterday. Feels weird, but good.”
“Are you coming back for shifts?” Crach asked.
Yennefer focused on filling out her report—or, at least, she tried to. Her writing slowed significantly, her attention slipping toward their conversation. Triss was here. Damn, that was both unexpected and… nice.
“Probably not. From what we know, night shifts aren’t great for me.”
“We miss having you around,” Crach admitted without hesitation.
“I miss it too,” Triss sighed. “Being stuck at home is driving me insane.”
Yennefer finished the report and finally looked up.
“So, what brings you here?”
“Had to talk to Philippa,” Triss shrugged before glancing at Yennefer with a half-smile. “And… I have something to tell you. But in private.”
“You can say it here. What’s said in this room stays in this room.” Crach suddenly seemed much more interested.
“You’ll find out later, Crach.”
“Great. That’s three donuts now.”
“Three? Where’s that math coming from?” Triss asked playfully, standing up and locking eyes with Yennefer. She didn’t look away.
“I have my system,” Crach muttered, still focused on his paperwork.
Triss shook her head and walked toward the exit, a mysterious smile playing on her lips.
Without a word, Yennefer followed her.
Triss led her outside, past the terrace, toward the benches by the fire pit. It was the rescue team’s unofficial hideout. One, Triss already knew. Sheltered by a thick hedge, it offered a breathtaking view of the mountains, now bathed in golden hues from the setting sun.
Yennefer sat down, feeling the exhaustion from the mission crash into her all at once. And Triss’s secrecy wasn’t helping. She had no idea what to expect. No idea if she had the energy for whatever news was coming.
“So?”
Triss took a seat beside her, her entire body radiating excitement. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifted forward on the edge of the bench, sitting close… So close their knees touched. She was practically vibrating with anticipation.
“I got an offer from the unit in Eredath.”
Yennefer looked at her intently.
“They want me to write an article about avalanche dogs. I’ll get to observe their training, their work… everything.”
Avalanche dogs. The elite.
The best-trained, the best of the best. Not every dog was suited for such a demanding job. They worked in the harshest conditions, alongside the most skilled handlers.
A dull ache bloomed in Yennefer’s chest.
“That’s… amazing.”
She tried to sound enthusiastic. And she was… this was an incredible opportunity. But something in her tone must have slipped because Triss immediately caught it.
Of course, she did.
“Yen? Are you okay?” Triss narrowed her eyes.
“Yeah, of course. It’s an incredible opportunity.” Yennefer said, and she meant it. It was. But her thoughts had already taken off in their own direction, spinning wildly out of her control.
What if Triss found something there that fascinated her?
Someone who fascinated her?
What if those mountains, those dogs, those people turned out to be more interesting than their little unit?
Than her?
That last thought struck like an electric shock. She didn’t want to let it in. Didn’t want to risk considering the possibility that Triss… that she might…
“Your face says something entirely different, you know? Are you worried?”
“Of course, I’m worried.” Yennefer felt relieved that she could blame this strange feeling on rational concern. “It’s avalanches, Triss. You can’t outrun them.”
“I don't plan on getting in their way,” Triss quipped.
Even so, Yennefer didn’t smile. She kept watching her, hesitating slightly before asking,
“Besides… would you have to leave? For long?”
“Two weeks in December. That’s all.” She smiled softly. “And you know I’ll be careful. You’re the one who taught me how to behave in the mountains.”
“Yeah, I can see how well that worked.” Yennefer’s eyes flicked pointedly toward Triss’s knee.
“That was an accident! And it’s fine now.”
“It’s always an accident…”
“Yeen…” Triss said it so gently, stretching the syllable just slightly, that Yennefer found herself holding her breath. “Would you… come with me?”
The unexpected offer caught her off guard. It was tempting… She could keep an eye on Triss, get away for a while, and just… No. Yennefer turned her gaze toward the mountains.
“I'd have to take a week off. December is packed with trainings and courses,” she rationalized. “And there's Ciri…”
“I understand.” Triss nodded, as if she wasn’t disappointed at all. “I haven’t decided yet if I’m going. I have until the end of September… I just wanted to talk to you first.”
Yennefer narrowed her eyes.
“With me?”
She kept her voice neutral, though her heart had been beating a little too fast for a while now.
“It’s your fault, you know?” Triss smiled lightly. “Or your achievement.”
“What?”
“You led me to this world.” Triss looked at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The article about you made people start seeing me as a journalist.”
“You wrote it yourself and deserved to be noticed.”
“No.” Triss shook her head. “You’re… real. I saw it from the beginning, and I understood so many things. Writing about all of you was incredible, but you and Pontar made it special.” Triss exhaled softly, as if unsure whether to say more. “I just put into words what I saw.”
The words caught in Yennefer's throat. Her skin tingled with an awareness she couldn't ignore anymore, that familiar flutter in her chest whenever Triss looked at her like this. She couldn't meet Triss's eyes, afraid of what her own might reveal.
“It’s getting cold and dark…” she said after a moment, even though she didn’t feel the cold. Only the need to break the silence. “Should I drive you home? Or are you driving already?”
“No, I was afraid to drive, so I’d love to take you up on that offer.”
Triss smiled slightly and nothing more. The silence wrapped around them again, and Yennefer was never good at forced conversations.
They both watched as the sun slowly crept toward the jagged mountain peaks. Triss shifted, settling in more comfortably beside her. She leaned back against the bench and stretched her legs forward. She stayed close. Close enough that Yennefer could feel every point where their bodies touched.
Her gaze drifted to Triss’s knee, then higher. She caught herself staring again… At her profile, at the smile that appeared suddenly, and then Yennefer snapped back to reality, realizing she was gawking too obviously. That Triss knew she was gawking. She turned away, but…
Those damn freckles.
The ones on her nose and cheeks, the ones that trailed all the way to her ear and disappeared into the hairline.
Did they go further…?
No. She fixed her eyes on the horizon, trying to keep her thoughts grounded, but she couldn’t. Because nothing about this felt grounded.
Her body was reacting again. Too strongly, too much.
She sighed.
It was always like this with Triss.
From the very beginning.
Yennefer parked in front of Triss’s building less than an hour later, in the same spot as always. She put the car in neutral, pulled the handbrake, but didn’t turn off the engine. The low, bass hum of the motor filled the space, but neither of them spoke. They sat there, watching a group of teenagers skateboarding and riding BMX bikes on the track next to the parking lot, illuminated by bright, modern lights. Neither moved to end the moment.
She felt an almost burning desire for Triss to stay. For this moment to stretch just a little longer. She watched the kids, full of energy, and a wild thought crossed her mind. What if they just drove somewhere? A nighttime drive, maybe? She could take Triss to that scenic overlook of the city… though Triss had probably been there before. Or maybe they could go for a walk? A night walk… But damn, it didn’t make sense. She had no plan, no idea.
What would she even show her?
What did she want to show her?
She used to roam around at night with her friends when she was younger. And now, for the first time in years, she wanted to do something reckless, something spontaneous. Why? Just to see Triss smile and spend a little more time with her?
Was she that lonely?
Or did she just like Triss that much?
That second question lingered in her mind, weighted with meaning she wasn’t ready to face. But it was there, echoing in her thoughts.
Of course, she liked her. That much.
“I should probably go.” Triss’s voice was quiet, as if she didn’t want to break the moment either. “Do you have tomorrow off?”
“Yeah.”
A strange question. Triss knew her schedule perfectly.
Silence stretched between them again. Triss didn’t move to unbuckle her seatbelt. They both kept watching the teenagers land trick after trick under the glow of streetlights.
Yennefer knew the window to take her somewhere was closing. Knew she wasn’t going to use it. It would be too personal. Too dangerous.
“Thanks for the ride.” Triss finally turned to her.
Yennefer felt her heartbeat quicken under that gaze. She wanted to respond casually, but the words caught in her throat.
In the twilight surrounding them, she could still see her freckles. Even the ones near the corner of her lips. Fuck.
She felt like a teenager caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“You can always count on me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Triss smiled, unbuckled her seatbelt, but still didn’t leave. Like she was waiting.
For what?
“I know,” she answered softly.
At that moment, everything felt so painfully clear… And yet terrifyingly complicated.
Triss was right there, so close, saying things that made Yennefer’s heart race, and she… she didn’t know what to do with it.
So she let Triss step out of the car and disappear into the building.
Triss waved at her one last time before the door shut behind her.
Yennefer sat in her car long after Triss closed the door. She didn't move. Not right away.
She leaned back, resting her head against the headrest and closing her eyes. She could feel her everywhere.
Even now.
She should put the car in gear and drive home. Just drive home.
Yet, she couldn't make herself leave.
Yennefer inhaled slowly.
Damn.
That scent wrapped around her. Raspberry sweet, warm, laced with something that always reminded her of wild roses.
Triss’s scent.
It was everywhere.
Surrounding her. Filling her mind.
Lingering in the car.
And with it… everything.
Two freckles near the corner of the lower lip. That slightly upturned nose. That quiet, warm laugh that lit up everything around her. Her eyes.
Gods.
She’d bought curtains the color of her eyes.
Her heart skipped.
This wasn’t just friendship.
Breathe.
Definitely not for her.
She couldn't pretend anymore that this was just a matter of concern, just routine, just a pleasant habit… That she was doing this for Triss, that she wanted to help.
You don't choose curtains to match your friend's eyes.
You don't feel this void when a friend leaves.
They don’t leave behind their scent that suddenly becomes everything.
Yennefer ran her fingers through her hair, dragging them across her scalp.
This was more. Much more.
She wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
Maybe she wouldn’t be for a long time. Maybe never.
But she knew.
Now, she knew.
And she saw it as part of something bigger.
She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.
What was she supposed to do now? What plan should she make? What next? Why?
She opened her eyes, but no answers came.
Nothing had changed.
Nothing.
She bit her lip, harder than she meant to. Took another breath.
That scent was still there, filling her mind.
Damn it all.
She released the parking brake, gripped the gear shift, pushed into first and drove home.
That scent was still there.
So was she.
So was everything.
Notes:
I'm a little terrified by how long this story is turning out (though based on my calculations, I should wrap it up in 22-25 chapters—but still!). It's crazy to think that this all started from a small idea, just one scene in the cave, and now there's only a little left to go. I didn't think I would be able to put it all into so few words. I'm really grateful to everyone who has made it this far. 💜💙
I was wondering if I should edit and crop the story after I finish it, but I still don't know... I think I'll wait until I actually finish it and decide then, but I'm open to your suggestions.
I can't wait to share what's next with you. If you have any suggestions for the previous chapters, let me know!
I'll stop rambling now. :D Thanks for putting up with me and for still being here!
Chapter 14
Notes:
This chapter covers the final week before the vacation that both Yennefer and I have been eagerly anticipating. I'm almost certain you've been looking forward to it too! 😏
Enjoy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sunday, August 11, 6:00 a.m.
Yennefer's house, Zamirath
She woke up, her mind still foggy and not quite lucid. The events of the previous evening had raged through her head all night, forcing her to reanalyze the past two months of her acquaintance with Triss. Her mind felt intoxicated, as if dulled by something potent. It had nearly driven her to break her long-standing rule of sobriety last night, but there wasn't a single drop of alcohol in the house. The electrolyte water she drank instead did nothing to soothe her. It tasted awful, too.
Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that car, surrounded by the thick, sweet scent of raspberries. When she opened them, her gaze landed on the curtains or on the flowers from Triss.
She was cornered.
How far had this gone?
Lying in bed, she rubbed her eyes and realized that even her white sheets, patterned with painted green leaves, now reminded her of Triss. More and more things did. As if her mind had been quietly cataloging details for months, patiently waiting for her to connect the dots. The rational part of her demanded she put the puzzle together into one coherent picture, but the rest of her just wanted to pull the blanket over her head and hide from whatever she might see.
She walked to the window, pulling the curtains aside without sparing a glance at the view outside. Her fingers traced the fabric, consciously feeling it for the first time since she’d hung them up. Thick, yet soft to the touch. And the color… She could no longer ignore the fact that she had chosen it because it was the exact shade of Triss’s eyes. That was the only real reason. The only one. She bit her lip and shut her eyes, frustrated with her own persistent denial.
She still had no idea what to do. Last night, she had tried to find a solution to something that shouldn’t have even been a problem.
She went downstairs for coffee and breakfast, letting Pontar out into the yard. This time, she deliberately placed her phone next to the TV, just out of reach. She needed even the smallest bit of distance. Freedom from the constant anticipation—wondering whether Triss would text her or fighting the overwhelming urge to text her first. She had to deal with this somehow.
She knew she had to pick up Ciri. If she arrived too early again, her daughter would still be asleep, leaving her stuck in a one-on-one conversation with Geralt. He’d see right through her, and she wasn’t in the mood for honesty.
And what if… what if someone else already knew? Could anyone watching them have noticed something? Philippa? No.
She barely understood what was happening herself. She really knew so little—only that it was all too intense, too charged… at least for her. Maybe this was still within some acceptable limit. Maybe there was a logical explanation for all these feelings.
She stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, coffee cup in hand, staring at her phone across the room. She just needed to get through this week. Then she’d take Ciri to the coast, and she’d have time to sort everything out. She’d always managed before, even when she was younger and far less experienced. This should be easier now, right?
A soft notification sound broke the silence. She flinched. Her heart kicked into high gear.
So much for control.
She didn’t last long. A few moments later, she crossed the room to check her phone. A notification from Instagram. Even her phone seemed to know. These devices really were a smart one.
She swiped it away, though curiosity clawed at her.
What had Triss posted?
She couldn’t stay here any longer. Quickly finishing her coffee, she called Pontar inside, fed him, locked up, and headed for her car. The weather was perfect again—warm, inviting. She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and didn’t take anything else.
She drove to the gas station. Maybe she’d wash the car. Drive around with the music up. Do… something.
Anything.
She finally pulled up in front of Geralt’s house, spending far more time than necessary petting his german shepherd. Roach adored Yennefer, and the feeling was mutual. The dog didn’t ask questions, didn’t analyze her behavior, didn’t search for hidden meanings in her words. Simple, uncomplicated affection.
After a moment, she stepped inside, where coffee and breakfast were already waiting. Ciri sprang up the second she crossed the threshold, launching herself into Yennefer’s arms. It was still too early for a second coffee, but she drank it anyway. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. There was already enough chaos in her head.
They talked for a while about everything—mostly Ciri talked, while they reminded her to sit still and eat properly. Yennefer caught herself watching her gestures, the ease with which she expressed her thoughts.
“Here are the keys to the cottage,” Geralt said, handing her two keys with colorful keychains. His gaze lingered on her a beat longer than usual. “There's a lady who takes care of the place. She’ll probably be waiting for you and will explain everything. She knows family is coming, so the place should be clean.”
“Thanks,” she said bluntly, consciously avoiding prolonged eye contact.
Geralt furrowed his brows slightly as he looked at her. She cursed his ability to pick up on even the subtlest changes in her behavior. He knew her too well.
“If anything's off, call me,” was all he said.
“Are you sure I can bring the dog?” she asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.
“Yeah. The nearby beach is dog-friendly too. There aren’t many tourists, it should suit you,” he added, emphasizing the last words just enough to show he understood her need for solitude.
Solitude she desperately craved but also quietly feared.
“It’s a shame Cerys can’t come with us,” Ciri chimed in suddenly, finishing her breakfast.
“Maybe next year? I need a break, Ciri, and taking care of someone else’s kid…” Yennefer hesitated, not wanting to sound too harsh.
The truth was, the thought of another person—another energy she’d have to absorb while her own was already so unsteady—felt unbearable.
“I know…” Ciri rolled her eyes with the typical dramatics of a teenager. “I’m just saying, it’s kind of a shame…”
Geralt patted her on the shoulder as he passed, gathering the empty coffee cups.
Yennefer watched them—how they talked, how they moved. She tried to focus on being here now.
At this moment, she could almost pretend everything was normal.
When they got home, Ciri’s presence instantly transformed the space. The house filled with the sound of her footsteps and an endless stream of stories about her week with Geralt. Yennefer listened, this time grateful. Ciri demanded her full attention, leaving no room for the relentless thoughts of Triss that had been circling her mind like persistent flies.
She spoke while unpacking in the living room. Her book and journal were already on the coffee table, her favorite blanket had appeared on the couch, and her hoodie was draped over the stair railing.
Normally, Yennefer would have restored order immediately. But today, she let the mess be. Every misplaced object was proof of Ciri’s presence, making the house feel warm again. It always happened when Ciri came home. Like she didn’t just fill the physical space, but Yennefer’s whole world.
With Ciri under her roof, Yennefer felt infinitely more at ease and threw herself into trip preparations with an almost obsessive zeal. Packing became the perfect excuse for a full-scale house purge. Normally, she would have used this time to relax and get the essentials ready, but she knew she needed to keep herself occupied—completely.
She had to stop reanalyzing every interaction with Triss through a new lens.
Cleaning, music, and Ciri’s grumbling were a decent enough distraction. Every closet, every corner of the house seemed to hold something that needed sorting. She pulled out old clothes, went through documents, moved objects from one shelf to another, as if rearranging them could somehow bring order to the chaos in her mind.
“Do we really have to do all this?” Ciri asked, standing in Yennefer’s bedroom doorway, phone in hand. “We’re only going away for a few days.”
Yennefer glanced at the pile of clothes spread across the bed.
“Yes.” Her tone left no room for debate. “It’s good to tidy up before leaving. Coming back to a clean house is nice.”
“And do I really have to go through all my clothes right now?” Ciri groaned, rolling her eyes.
“If you tell me the day before we leave that you have nothing to wear…” Yennefer folded another sweater and shot her a deliberately artificial smile. “I will be furious.”
Ciri huffed but got to work.
At first, she helped begrudgingly, throwing Yennefer pointed looks every now and then, but the second they dumped everything out of the closet, the issue became real—Ciri actually had nothing to wear for the trip. One promise of a shopping spree before they left, and suddenly, she was energized, no longer complaining. Soon, they were both caught up in the momentum, and with loud music playing in the background, everything felt easier.
“Hey, I found this in the hallway closet.”
Ciri walked into the living room holding an old photo album.
“Can I look through it?”
Yennefer nodded without stopping her watering routine. For a moment, she watched as Ciri flipped through the pages, lingering on some photos, smiling at memories she didn’t even recall—she had been too young.
“You were so young,” Ciri said, pointing at a picture of Yennefer holding her as a baby.
“I still am, Ciri,” Yennefer replied, feigning offense as she sat down beside her.
“You actually haven’t changed that much.” Ciri tilted her head slightly. “Do you think I’ll ever look like you?”
The question caught Yennefer off guard.
She studied Ciri. Her light green eyes, her fair hair, so different from her own.
“You’ll definitely be just as mouthy,” she teased with a warm smile.
Ciri flipped through a few more pages before closing the album and setting it on the table.
“Do you think there’ll really be a dog-friendly beach?” she asked, moving toward the patio doors, where their white shepherd was stretched out in the sun. “Pontar loves playing in the water.”
“Geralt said there is,” Yennefer answered, eyeing her daughter carefully. “And if not, we’ll find a quieter spot away from the main beach.”
They kept cleaning, and the shopping list grew by the hour—new beach towels, sunscreen, shoes for both of them, and a whole assortment of things Ciri kept sneaking onto the list whenever Yennefer wasn’t looking.
On Wednesday, they couldn’t put it off any longer. They had to go to the mall.
“Quick shopping trip,” Yennefer announced over breakfast, pouring herself a second cup of coffee. “We go in, get what we need, and get out.”
Ciri nodded far too easily.
Yennefer’s suspicion flared instantly.
Her daughter’s overly innocent expression was a dead giveaway. She had a plan.
At the mall, it quickly became clear that their definitions of a “quick shopping trip” were entirely different. Ciri stopped at every store, tried on ten shirts only to pick one, and kept changing her mind. Yennefer was exhausted, but as always, she could endure anything for her beloved daughter.
“Mom, what do you think about this?” Ciri asked, stepping out of the fitting room in black denim shorts and an equally black band tee—Yennefer was fairly certain she didn’t even listen to that band.
Her daughter looked… older. As if, in the span of a few moments inside that fitting room, she had skipped ahead by several months of growth. For the first time, Yennefer truly felt old. Time was relentless, though she wasn’t sure she would have noticed it if not for Ciri.
“Wow…”
“That means I look stupid, doesn’t it?” Ciri turned nervously in front of the mirror.
“No, quite the opposite.” Yennefer shook her head. “You look… incredible. More mature.”
“Not like a kid?” Ciri raised her brows, hope flickering in her voice.
“Definitely not, and that worries me a little,” Yennefer admitted with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. One glance at the screen was enough to send her pulse racing.
Triss.
Her body reacted the same way it always did at the sight of that name.
“Mom? Are you even listening?” Ciri’s voice pulled her back to reality.
“Yes, yes,” she replied automatically, forcing herself to focus. “I think those shorts are the best choice.”
Ciri rolled her eyes, her expression making it painfully clear she wasn’t buying the act. “I asked if I can take both pairs, Mom.”
Despite appearances, this hadn’t been an easy week.
Nothing felt easy when she looked at life through the lens of her latest realization—the truth that had shattered everything she thought she understood about friendship.
Friendship.
The word now felt hollow, insufficient, too small to contain what she felt. But the alternative…
No.
She couldn’t allow herself to consider the alternative. She needed to do something. Here and now. Set boundaries? Get herself under control? The mere thought made her chest tighten uncomfortably, as if something inside her was trying to break free. She didn’t want to lose what they had. She didn’t want to change it.
She wanted…
More.
Though she wasn’t entirely sure more of what. More time together? More conversations? More of those moments when Triss’s eyes caught hers and held them just a second too long?
More of everything.
No.
That train of thought led nowhere. A closed loop with no exit. At least not one she could take without risking everything.
Work and Ciri had always been the perfect distractions, allowing her to push inconvenient thoughts aside, lock them away in neat compartments in her mind. She had done it her whole life—sorting and categorizing emotions like files in an office. Clothes in the closet, dishes in the dishwasher, feelings in tightly sealed boxes.
But this time—she realized with growing unease—that method was failing her. Thoughts of Triss slipped through the cracks, seeped into the spaces, surfaced unexpectedly at the slightest association. She would have to be more disciplined.
After the nice but also exhausting days of keeping herself in check, the evenings were unfortunately the worst.
Ciri worn out from a full day of activity, would become irritable and particularly sharp-tongued, while Yennefer was running on empty herself. The girl didn’t want to come inside when the evening was still warm and bright, and then, once she finally did, she was too tired to eat dinner. Nothing suited her, everything was a cause for complaint, and Yennefer simply didn’t have the energy to push through the walls of teenage stubbornness.
Thursday evening was when they both finally reached their breaking point.
“Eat,” Yennefer said one evening, watching as Ciri sat in front of a plate of fresh, colorful sandwiches she had prepared.
“I'm not hungry,” Ciri muttered, picking the cucumbers off the bread and leaving the rest in a mess on her plate.
“I asked you to come in earlier and have a proper meal.” Yennefer tried to keep her voice even, but she could feel her patience slipping.
“Stop treating me like a little kid!” Ciri snapped, throwing her napkin onto the table.
“Then stop acting like one,” Yennefer shot back, sharper than she intended.
The regret was instant. Ciri's face flashed with anger, but beneath it, Yennefer saw the sting of hurt.
The girl took a single bite of a sandwich, chewing slowly, as if testing the limits of Yennefer’s patience. She didn’t say another word. When she was done, she stood up and headed to her room, closing the door softer than usual. Softer than slamming it, which somehow felt even more unsettling.
Yennefer no longer just felt it—she knew it. More and more things were slipping out of her carefully structured order. And all because of…
No. She couldn’t blame Triss for her problems.
It wasn’t Triss’s fault that Yennefer had suddenly started noticing things that had probably been there all along, buried beneath layers of rationalization and denial. But she also couldn’t deny that ever since that realization, her world had become just a little more complicated.
Or more intense.
Like someone had turned up the saturation of reality, leaving her dazed and off-balance.
The next day, Ciri moved through the house like a ghost, Yennefer was lost in thought, and the two of them passed each other in the rooms, deliberately ignoring one another. Pontar sat outside, seemingly aware of the brewing storm and consciously avoiding any chance of getting caught in the crossfire. Ciri even took her lunch to her room and disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. Yennefer ate alone, then wandered around the kitchen, cleaning up the mess she had made while cooking.
The door buzzer rang, cutting through the silence. She froze for a brief moment. It turned out to be a delivery, but she hadn't ordered anything.
“Ms. Vengerberg, right? The address checks out,” said a young man, holding two packages—one larger, one smaller.
“Yes, but I didn’t order anything…” She frowned, eyeing the boxes suspiciously.
“One of them is prepaid, but the other…” He glanced at the payment terminal in his hand. “Quite a sum, actually.”
Yennefer narrowed her eyes. Something was off.
“I can call and check with… a friend,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket.
“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, though it was obvious he was rushing.
She quickly dialed Geralt, even though her instincts were already telling her something was wrong. If this had been from him, he would have mentioned it.
“No, I can't accept this. Sorry,” she said, ending the brief call. “Someone must have… maybe it’s just a really stupid joke.”
“Alright, I’ll need to file that in the system and get your signature,” the courier said, retrieving a tablet from his van.
“Fine,” she nodded.
She signed where he indicated, feeling slightly ridiculous. Maybe Ciri had ordered something online? She stepped inside, closing the door with her free hand. The package was light—almost empty. That only made her more uneasy.
She quickly climbed the stairs and knocked on her daughter’s door.
“Ciri? You didn’t order anything, did you?”
The girl pulled off her headphones and looked up from her book. Her gaze remained cold—still sulking.
“No. Why?”
“There was a package, but it wasn’t paid for and…” Yennefer hesitated. “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally click on something?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot, Mom,” Ciri huffed, rolling her eyes in irritation.
“I never said you were… It could’ve been a mistake,” Yennefer stepped back, unease beginning to creep along her spine.
She went downstairs and carefully opened the package, slicing through the tape with her keys. Inside, she found a dog harness—pink and black, cheap-looking. That was… unsettling. Her expression twisted in distaste as she touched the fabric—synthetic, flimsy, and despite its size, definitely not suitable for a dog as big as Pontar.
Horrible quality. But in good size.
The thought crossed her mind that this might be another promotional package from the unit. But not this kind of junk. And then there was the second package—the one she hadn’t accepted.
Something was definitely wrong.
This couldn’t have been a mistake, could it? Not when someone had sent it directly to her address, with her name. A wave of heat, of unease, washed over her.
This wasn’t just a faint prickle of discomfort; this was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. She tossed the harness, still in its torn packaging, beside the stairs and went to get a glass of cold water. She drank standing by the window, staring out at the driveway.
What the hell was this supposed to mean? Who would even think to play a joke like this?
Her gaze landed on her car. The black Volvo gleamed in the afternoon sun.
She watched it for a moment. She needed to get the car ready for the trip. It was the perfect plan for today, something that would let her redirect her energy into a tangible task.
She went to change.
She put on light gray sweat shorts with cuffs just below her knees and a loose, oversized tank top in the same color. The fabric was dotted with faint soap bubble stains that wouldn’t come out in the wash, so at this point, it was only good for housework. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun to keep it out of her face, then stepped outside barefoot, trying, just for a moment, to feel something else.
The sun no longer burned as intensely as it had at noon, so she could comfortably wash the car. First, she connected her phone to the Bluetooth speaker she’d brought from the house, letting music fill the air. Then, she pulled out the floor mats and grabbed a trash bag, starting to clear out the mess inside.
Most of it belonged to Ciri and Cerys... Snack wrappers, gum packets, crumpled receipts, all stuffed into whatever crevices they could find. She’d have to keep a closer eye on them in the future.
Physical work was a relief.
The music drowned out her thoughts, the sun warmed her back, her bare feet felt the contrast between the heat of the driveway and the cool water when she stepped into a puddle. That helped, too. She focused on the sensations, on the task at hand, just to forget—for a moment—about the strange package, about Triss, about the tension with Ciri.
The water in the bucket was pleasantly cool, and the car shampoo had a strangely sweet scent that caught her attention every time she soaked the sponge. She worked meticulously, moving in slow, circular motions—roof first, then windows, doors, and finally the rims.
She was just reaching for the pressure washer to rinse off the foam when her phone started ringing in the pocket of her shorts. The music cut off, replaced by the ringtone.
Yennefer straightened up, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a damp streak on her skin. She glanced at the screen.
And there it was again.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, disconnecting the Bluetooth. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, then swiped to answer.
“Yes?” Her voice came out more formal than she intended.
“Hey, Yen.” Triss’s voice was as warm as always, though this time, it irritated her slightly. Or maybe… it was a different kind of tension. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” she replied, forcing a casual tone, though her fingers tightened around the phone. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you’d be in town today? I have your book, and I wanted to return it before you leave.”
Yennefer frowned.
“It’s not urgent. You can give it back some other time,” she said, watching as the foam dried on the car, leaving ugly streaks on the black paint.
“Well… I’ll be passing by anyway, and…” There was a hesitation in Triss’s voice that Yennefer couldn’t ignore.
“Is this really about the book?” she interrupted, suddenly too tired for these games.
A soft, silken laugh came through the speaker, making her stomach clench even tighter.
“No,” Triss admitted. “I’d like to have coffee with you before you go.”
“You could’ve just said that,” Yennefer replied, feeling even more tense at the unexpected honesty.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d run away.”
Those words hit harder than she expected. Had Triss noticed something? Was she really that transparent? Or was this just her own hypersensitivity, making her see hidden meanings in the simplest of sentences?
“Run away from coffee?” She tried to keep her voice light. “When will you be here?”
“Uhh… in about five minutes.”
Yennefer froze, glancing around the driveway.
Everything was wet, floor mats were scattered out to dry in the sun, and she herself… she was in soaked, clingy clothes, with her hair twisted messily on top of her head, probably looking exhausted.
She wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t ready. Not like this.
“Ah. Fantastic, Merigold,” she muttered, not bothering to hide the sarcasm, though deep down, something resembling mild panic stirred.
“I’ll wait by the gate,” Triss said, amusement evident in her voice, as if she knew exactly what kind of chaos she had just caused.
“Like you have a choice,” Yennefer sighed, hanging up.
She stood motionless for a moment, phone still in hand, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs. Five minutes. She could go inside, change into something dry, at least fix her hair… But did it even matter? Should she really care about how she looked in front of Triss?
Wouldn’t that mean… she cared more than she should?
She knew she did. But she didn’t want Triss to see it.
She decided to do nothing about her appearance. Instead, she reached into the glove compartment for the remote and opened the gate. Clearing space in the driveway, she moved the floor mats aside and glanced at the car. The foam had already dried on the surface, leaving dull patches that completely ruined the point of washing it in the first place. With renewed determination, she went through the process all over again, quickly rinsing the soap away with the pressure washer.
She had always liked this part—watching the water cascade down the car’s surface, stripping away the grime and foam, revealing the clean, glossy paint beneath. For a moment, she lost track of time, hypnotized by the simple transformation.
She only snapped out of it when Triss’s red car turned onto her driveway.
“Guess I didn’t have to wait by the gate after all,” Triss said as she stepped out, wearing that light, easy smile that always affected Yennefer the same way.
“I can still change my mind,” Yennefer replied, seeking refuge in irony.
Triss stood before her, looking effortlessly put together as always—light linen trousers and a sea-green blouse that highlighted her hair and made her eyes seem even more intense. Yennefer became painfully aware of her own state—damp clothes clinging to her skin, messy hair, flushed from the heat.
“Excuse the mess, I’m not done with the car yet,” she gestured toward the scattered floor mats lying haphazardly on the driveway.
“I can help,” Triss offered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“In those clothes?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow, casting a pointed look at Triss’s perfectly tailored pants.
“You’re right, I can just watch.” Triss shrugged with a teasing smile, one that made it clear that had been her plan all along.
“Coffee break. Are we drinking inside or out?” Yennefer tried to sound casual, but even she could hear the tension in her own voice. She was acutely aware of how her wet shirt clung to her, how the warmth on her cheeks had nothing to do with the midday sun.
Triss’s gaze lingered on her for just a second too long.
“Outside,” she said, glancing around. “It’s too beautiful to sit inside.”
Yennefer gave a small nod, watching as Triss made her way to the steps and sat on the top one, completely at ease. Yennefer pushed her damp hair back from her forehead, trying to steady her breathing.
Why had everything suddenly become so difficult? Why couldn’t she just talk normally, act normally?
“Is Ciri home?” Triss asked, leaning back slightly, propping herself up with her hands.
The casual movement pulled the fabric of her blouse taut across her body, highlighting curves Yennefer was trying very, very hard not to notice.
“Yeah, she’s in her room,” she answered quickly, feeling an urgent need to put some distance between them. “I’ll get the coffee.”
She brushed past Triss on the steps and stepped into the house, needing a moment to pull herself together.
“Take your time,” Triss’s voice followed her inside, lingering in the air like an echo.
In the kitchen, she allowed herself a moment of weakness. Leaning against the counter, she closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths, trying to steady the frantic beating of her heart.
It was absurd. She, an experienced mountain rescuer, someone who had faced life-threatening situations and stared death in the eye without flinching, was now trembling at the thought of a simple conversation with…
A friend?
That word no longer fit. It was so wrong it almost hurt.
And yet, she had nothing else to replace it with.
As she brewed the coffee, she watched her own hands shake, unsure if she was more irritated or resigned. Grabbing the cups, she stepped outside.
Triss was sitting, leaning forward slightly, with Pontar standing on the steps in front of her, resting his head on her knees. Yennefer watched for a moment as Triss gently stroked the spot between his eyes with her thumb. But she forced herself to look away, bent down, and set the coffee beside her before sitting down next to her.
“So, what about that book?” she asked, breaking the silence stretching between them.
“It’s in the car,” Triss said, and a moment later, she burst into laughter—unexpected.
“What’s so funny?” Yennefer felt the tension ease just a little.
“You look stupid in that color…”
“What?” She glanced down at her dull gray clothes, at the wet stains and faint traces of soap bubbles. “It’s a neutral color.”
“Neutral doesn’t suit you. You look ridiculous,” Triss laughed, openly amused.
Yennefer, unable to come up with a sharp response, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Says the person who wears everything buttoned up to the neck even in the worst heat.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she noticed Triss’s smile falter. Not entirely gone, but dimmed, like she had touched on something sensitive.
“I’d rather that than show everyone my scars,” Triss said, still trying to keep her voice light, but something in her tone had shifted.
Yennefer watched as Triss straightened, reached for her coffee. Pontar must have sensed the change too—he climbed the steps and lay down between them.
“Triss, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she started.
“No, actually, it’s fine.” Triss turned to her with a warm look-genuinely warm, as if she were the one feeling guilty. “I wanted to tell you about it, but there was never a good moment. Maybe this is as good a time as any.”
“You don’t have to,” Yennefer said, feeling a tightness in her chest.
“I know, but… you told me about your accident. Mine wasn’t nearly as dramatic...”
“Triss, stop.”
Yennefer cut her off, not wanting her to feel obligated to share something painful just because of an offhand remark.
“Anyway,” Triss shook her head with a faint smile. “The scars are from a burn. I was at summer camp, and I ran into a teacher in the cafeteria—he was carrying two cups of hot coffee, and…” she trailed off, her gaze dropping to the coffee in her own hands. “That’s why my wardrobe doesn’t include anything with a neckline.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. The elegant blouses always buttoned to the top, the high-collared outfits, even on exceptionally warm, summer days.
Concealing, yet always stylish.
“How old were you?” Yennefer asked.
Triss suddenly stood before her in an entirely new light. Yennefer would have never guessed anything had happened to her—but then again, no one could see her own scars either. Triss’s elegant outfits, always covering her body despite the heat, now took on a different meaning. It wasn’t just style. It was armor.
“Nine,” Triss replied, meeting her gaze. “It was my first and last summer camp. After that, my mom was too scared to let me go anywhere.”
“I can’t say I blame her,” Yennefer said, and when the silence stretched between them, she asked, “Does it hurt?”
It was a genuine question. She worried that, beyond the appearance, Triss might still be in pain. The thought alone was unbearable.
Triss shook her head.
“Not anymore. Sometimes they itch when it’s really hot,” she admitted quietly. “But that’s not the worst part… They’re horribly ugly, Yennefer. I hate them.”
Her eyes, when she lifted them from her cup, carried deep pain... Shame, hurt, and something else.
Yennefer didn’t know how to help.
For a moment, they just looked at each other, and she felt something inside her soften. She wanted to reach out, to touch Triss’s hand, to tell her that the scars didn’t change anything, that she was beautiful, that…
What was the right thing to say in a moment like this?
Before she could do anything, Ciri’s voice rang out from inside the house.
“Mom! Do you have a guest?”
The moment burst like a soap bubble. Triss straightened immediately, her face slipping back into its usual cheerful expression, though Yennefer saw the effort it took.
“Yes, Triss is here,” Yennefer replied, suppressing a wave of frustration. She knew Ciri hadn’t done it on purpose, but the timing couldn’t have been worse.
The girl stood in the doorway, her face lighting up at the sight of their visitor, as if she had completely forgotten about their earlier fight.
“Triss! I didn’t know you were coming!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm.
“I wanted to see your mom before you two leave,” Triss answered simply, offering a warm smile.
“You could’ve told me Triss was coming!” Ciri turned to her mother with clear disapproval. “I have pictures I wanted to show you, Triss. From the other day with Cerys...”
“Ciri, go find something to do,” Yennefer interrupted, feeling her patience wearing thin.
“But I wanted to tell you how...”
“Do I come into your room to tell work stories when you have friends over?” Yennefer snapped, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.
“But Triss is my friend,” Ciri protested, crossing her arms. Her expression was a perfect mirror of Yennefer’s own.
“Alright, Ciri. Please. Don’t push me.” Yennefer sighed, hearing the exhaustion in her own voice.
“Hey, don’t fight over me,” Triss laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but her eyes flicked between them, analyzing their exchange. Seeing something Yennefer would have preferred her not to notice.
Yennefer shot Ciri a pointed look. The girl finally relented, hopping down the steps with a theatrical sigh. Pontar immediately followed, tail wagging at the movement.
“Can I sit in the front seat tomorrow?” Ciri asked, lingering near the car, pretending to focus on playing with the dog, still unwilling to let go of the attention.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Yennefer replied, hoping to end the discussion.
“Can I?”
“Ciri…”
“Can I?”
Yennefer stayed silent.
They stared at each other for a long moment, locked in a silent battle of wills, until Ciri, finally giving up, wandered toward the hammock strung between the trees, calling Pontar after her.
“This week, she’s been exceptionally difficult…” Yennefer explained once Ciri was out of earshot.
“Oh, come on, she’s wonderful,” Triss smiled, shifting slightly closer on the step. “And she had to inherit that sharp tongue from someone.”
“Certainly, not from me,” Yennefer muttered, though she couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at her lips.
“Of course not,” Triss agreed with a touch of sarcasm that, in her voice, sounded almost affectionate.
They sat there, talking casually—or at least pretending to. Yennefer’s calm façade took an immense amount of effort. As always, the freckles on Triss’s face drew her in, like constellations scattered across her skin. She thought about the scars Triss hid beneath her clothes. She kept her coffee cup close, focusing on its aroma rather than the ever-present scent of raspberries. They spoke about everything and nothing.
Sometimes, the temptation to shift closer gnawed at her, but she pushed those thoughts away, holding the cup tightly between her hands, as if it could somehow keep her from acting on impulse.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Triss said, setting her cup down. “Are you two ready for the trip?”
“Almost,” Yennefer replied, glancing at the car gleaming in the afternoon sun. “I just need to finish cleaning the car, then it’s just packing up what we’ve prepared.”
“Are you excited to go?” Triss’s voice carried genuine curiosity.
“Yes,” she said. “Ciri needs this trip. Honestly, we both do.”
Triss nodded, as if she understood more than what had been said aloud.
“And you?” Yennefer asked, hoping to shift the focus away from herself. “Any plans for next week?”
“Nothing special. Work, a few articles to write, some meetings with friends.” Triss shrugged. “I was thinking about going hiking, but it feels strange without my rescuer around.”
The words ‘my rescuer’ hit Yennefer harder than she expected.
There was something intimate in that phrase, something that hinted at a bond deeper than friendship. Something that made her feel both unsettled and… unexpectedly good.
“You can go. You’ve already used up your accident quota for the year,” she teased, forcing a light tone, even as her thoughts spiraled into entirely unplayful directions.
“You think so?” Triss glanced at her sideways. “I’ll miss having you around.”
“Oh, come on. It’s just a week. That’s barely longer than my shifts,” Yennefer tried to brush it off, though the weight of Triss’s words lingered.
“But now, you’ll be far away.”
“Fine, I’ll miss you too… a little,” Yennefer admitted, unable to keep up the pretense any longer.
“A little?” Triss raised an eyebrow, feigning offense.
“A tiny bit,” Yennefer shook her head, looking away, knowing her eyes might betray too much.
They sat in silence for a moment until Triss suddenly started giggling and stood with an effortless grace that drew Yennefer’s gaze.
“What now?” Yennefer asked.
“Still the same thing. You look ridiculous in that color.”
“That’s pathetic, Triss,”
“Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”
“It’s car-washing clothes! I wasn’t expecting guests,” she protested, suddenly all too aware of the damp patches and faded soap bubble stains.
“Would you dress up for me?” Triss asked, throwing her a playful look, her voice laced with teasing. Yet beneath it, something deeper, something that sent Yennefer’s pulse racing and heat creeping up her neck.
She didn’t know what to say. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought flickered—yes.
She would have dressed up for Triss. She would have done much more… if only she knew what she was supposed to feel, what she was supposed to do with it.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Triss turned and extended a hand, offering to help her up. Such a simple gesture and completely unnecessary—she was sitting high on the stairs and could have easily stood up on her own.
“I'm joking. You'd look good even in a potato sack,” Triss said with a smile, though her eyes remained serious, as if she was trying to convey something beyond just words. “Though, I think you look best in that red uniform.”
Yennefer looked at her, feeling as if taking her hand meant crossing some invisible, dangerous line. But she took it and got up.
“I should get going. You have a lot to do before the trip,” Triss said finally, breaking a moment that had felt like it would last forever.
Yennefer nodded. There was a strange weight in her chest—like something important was slipping away, and she had no idea how to hold on to it. She was starting to realize that saying goodbye to Triss was becoming increasingly difficult, laced with something that felt an awful lot like longing, even before they parted.
“Triss!”
Ciri was calling out, running toward them.
“You’re leaving already?”
“Yeah, have a great vacation,” Triss replied with a smile.
“Can I send you pictures?” Ciri asked excitedly.
“Of course! As many as you can,” Triss said, casting Yennefer a mischievous look. “Have fun.”
“We’ll get you something!” Ciri promised.
“Thank you.”
Ciri waved before running off, leaving them alone again. For one last, fleeting moment.
Triss smiled, and just before getting into her car, she looked at her—really looked at her.There was something in her eyes, Yennefer couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t just the usual warmth, wasn’t just another easy smile. It was deeper, more intense. It lasted only a second, but in that second, Yennefer felt time slow.
Had it always been there? Or was she just noticing it now?
She stood there, watching as Triss pulled out of the driveway, waving once more before disappearing down the road. And just like that, her mind went to work, overanalyzing every word, every gesture, every glance.
Had she really not seen it before?
No, that was impossible…
She exhaled, turning back toward the car. She needed to finish cleaning, get everything in order, and go to bed.
The meeting had gone well, all things considered, but keeping herself together around Triss had been hard.
Very hard.
She bent down, reaching to disconnect the pressure washer from the faucet when, out of nowhere, Pontar shot past her, nearly knocking her over. She turned just in time to see him running—wearing the pink harness from the mysterious package that morning. Ciri was chasing after him, calling out, laughing.
Yennefer didn’t hear what she was saying. She only heard her voice—too loud, too carefree, as if everything was perfectly fine. She spun around sharply and grabbed Ciri by the arm as she ran past.
Maybe a little too hard.
The moment Ciri looked at her, her eyes changed. Yennefer knew why.
She saw it in those green, suddenly startled eyes—the reflection of her own fury, dark and unchecked, spilling across her face like a tidal wave.
It was too late to take it back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“I put the harness on him, it’s pretty!” Ciri protested, her voice higher than usual.
“Did I say you could touch it? Why are you going through my things?” The words shot out like bullets.
“It’s just a harness, Mom…”
“No! You could’ve at least asked before using it! What if it was a gift for someone? Could you start thinking for once? How old are you?”
With every word, her voice grew louder, sharper.
“Stop yelling at me!” Ciri tried to pull away, but Yennefer still had her by the arm.
“Then stop acting like a small, foolish child!”
“It’s just a harness…” Ciri whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.
“No!”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Ciri shouted, tears now spilling down her face.
And suddenly, Yennefer realized, she was still holding her arm. She let go.
Ciri immediately took a step back, as if afraid Yennefer might grab her again.
“What?”
Yennefer felt the rage drain from her body, replaced by a cold, creeping panic.
“Leave me alone… I’d rather stay home by myself than go on vacation with you…”
Ciri turned and ran inside, leaving Yennefer alone with the echo of her own words.
The fury vanished instantly, replaced by fear—fear of what she had just done. Pontar watched her carefully, alert, ready to intervene, as he always was when she raised her voice. She walked over to him, her hands trembling as she unclipped the harness.
They were just strips of fabric. But they could have been dangerous.
Could have been.
She didn’t know what was wrong with that package. She just wanted to protect her daughter. And instead, she had scared her so badly that now Ciri was afraid of her.
“Go to her,” she said to the dog, and Pontar, as if understanding the gravity of the situation, immediately took off toward the house, following his younger caretaker.
Yennefer wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, knowing she had to fix this. She was the only one who could understand how utterly worthless she felt right now. There were no words for it.
She stared down at the harness in her hands, bitterness twisting her lips into a grimace. She was a terrible mother, a terrible friend. Terrible at anything that required emotions and had no clear-cut procedure.
She hurled the harness into the garage, where it landed behind a shelf, hidden among the rest of the junk. Out of sight, for now. But she knew how much had already piled up. More and more.
What was she supposed to do?
She looked at the car, and even though her eyes burned with unshed tears and her hands trembled, she went back to cleaning as if nothing had happened.
She couldn’t go to Ciri now. They both needed time. Mostly because Yennefer was terrible at this—at expressing emotions, at apologizing, at admitting she was wrong.
An hour passed before she finally forced herself to go inside. The shower helped wash away the sweat and grime of the day, but it did nothing to erase the guilt gnawing at her chest like a starving animal.
She stood in front of Ciri’s door, listening to the rhythmic thump of Pontar’s tail against the floor inside. At least her daughter wasn’t alone.
She knocked softly. No response.
“Ciri?” Her voice was quiet now, steady. “Can we talk?”
Silence.
She pressed her forehead against the door frame, closing her eyes. She deserved this.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that.” The words felt inadequate. “I was scared, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”
She heard movement inside, but the door remained shut.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just…”
She caught herself before she made excuses. No, there was no just.
“I was wrong. I scared you, and I’m so sorry. You’re not a foolish little kid. I’m the biggest fool in the world.”
The door creaked slightly. Ciri stood there, eyes red and puffy, with Pontar at her feet.
Behind them, her room was a mess.Clothes strewn across the floor as if she had torn everything from her closet. The sight of it clenched something deep in Yennefer’s chest.
“You hurt me,” Ciri whispered, then turned away.
“I know.” Yennefer swallowed hard. “I never want to hurt you. Never.”
“You always do.” Ciri’s voice was quiet as she nudged the scattered clothes with her foot. “You get angry over the smallest things. Like you’re just waiting for something to go wrong.”
“I know. Lately, I’ve been...”
“Lately? Because of work? Like always.” Ciri cut her off, sharp now, her gaze slicing through her like a blade. It was fast, but it was enough to sting. “I’m so sick of your job, you know that?”
Her voice rose, trembling with frustration. “It’s always about those stupid mountains and your damn rescue team!”
“Ciri…”
“No! Either you’re gone, or you’re just waiting to leave. And when you are here, you’re just… You snap at everything, you get angry over the dumbest things! Like a stupid harness...”
She kicked at another pile of clothes.
“I don’t even want to do things with you anymore because I never know when you’ll explode or when your stupid phone will ring!”
“I wanted this vacation to be different,” Yennefer said quietly, still standing in the doorway.
“But nothing has changed! You’re still on call, still waiting for an emergency. And now you’re even weirder than before.” Ciri turned to face her, fists clenched. “Dad is different. When he’s with me, no one can take him away.”
“That’s not fair, Ciri. I’m here...”
“No, you’re not! What if there was a search mission right now? What would you do? You’d drop me off with someone and leave, wouldn’t you?” Her voice was rising, trembling. “Well, I don’t want movie nights that can be interrupted at any second. I don’t want to flinch every time your phone rings. I don’t want to—” Her voice broke. “I’m scared that one day you won’t come back. And I’ll be mad at you. Mad that you left me.”
Yennefer felt every word like a physical blow.
Ciri collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her pillow.
“Ciri, sweetheart…” Yennefer’s voice was gentle, though it cracked as well.
The only response was a muffled grunt and the sound of her daughter sniffling.
“Can I do anything?”
“I don’t know. You’re the adult, Mom. You should know,” Ciri mumbled, barely audible.
“But I don’t,” Yennefer admitted, stepping closer and carefully sitting on the bed.
“I’m sorry, baby. I love you, and… you’re the most important thing in the world to me. You’re my light, you know? I don’t know why I keep dimming it…”
She felt tears welling in her eyes. She was at her limit. At the edge of everything.
“What?” Ciri muttered.
Yennefer lay down beside her, turning on her side and gently tucking Ciri’s hair behind her ear.
“I love you, and I’m sorry. I want to spend this vacation with you, Ciri. Away from everything else. Maybe we can figure things out together?”
Silence.
“Please… give me a chance to fix this. I didn’t know you felt this way.”
Slowly, Ciri turned and pressed her face into Yennefer’s neck. Yennefer felt her daughter trembling slightly, still processing everything. They lay there in silence, wrapped in each other’s presence. Yennefer stroked her arm, needing the contact as much as Ciri did. After a moment, she gently asked about dinner, but Ciri shook her head.
“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled, pulling away slightly, as if Yennefer’s voice had shattered the fragile moment. “I just want to shower and go to bed.”
Yennefer nodded, understanding the need for space. She sat up, resting a hand on Ciri’s back.
“I’m here,” she said softly. “I really am. If you need anything, I’m always here.”
Ciri just scoffed under her breath as she left the room. The silence that followed was suffocating. Yennefer was left alone with Ciri’s words and the crushing realization that she had failed the most important person in her life. Again. If she couldn’t even hold on to this—the one relationship that mattered most—how was she supposed to manage anything else?
Saturday morning was heavy and stifling. The sun pushed mercilessly through the curtains, promising another scorching day. Yennefer woke up early, feeling utterly drained—physically and emotionally. Coffee didn’t help, not even the second, stronger one. She hadn’t heard Ciri, but she knew her daughter wasn’t asleep. A mother’s intuition—something she hadn’t lost. Surprisingly.
She made breakfast. Pancakes with Ciri’s favorite jam and a cup of grain coffee. She waited at the table, but Ciri never came downstairs. The food grew cold as Yennefer stared at her coffee with quiet sadness.
With every passing minute, the weight of how deeply she had hurt her daughter pressed down on her. Ciri was avoiding her, and the silence in the house had grown so heavy it was difficult to breathe.
Around noon, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Ciri walked into the kitchen, passed her without a word, grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter, and went back upstairs.
She didn’t say anything.
She didn’t even look at her.
Yennefer knew she deserved this silence, but it didn’t make the pain of it any easier to bear.
The day dragged on endlessly. She tried to focus on packing for the trip, checking the weather forecast, going through her to-do list before leaving the house. But it all felt empty, meaningless against the backdrop of Ciri’s silence.
What if she really didn’t want to spend time with me?
If the vacation was going to be like this… she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
The heat was unbearable. Sweat gathered at her temples as she paced the house, her long hair uncomfortably sticking to her skin, while she searched for something to keep her hands and mind occupied. Pontar lay sprawled on the cool kitchen floor, panting heavily, watching her with questioning eyes. He could sense the tension too.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked softly, crouching down to scratch behind his ear. “I really mess everything up, don’t I?”
The dog licked her hand as if trying to tell her otherwise, but it wasn’t enough to lift the weight in her chest.
By the afternoon, she noticed Ciri lying in the hammock in the garden, gently swaying, eyes fixed on a book. Yennefer watched her through the window, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling.
How do you fix something that feels so broken?
Then the sky began to darken.
It wasn’t the natural dimming of evening—storm clouds gathered on the horizon, promising relief from the suffocating heat. Storms had always been a constant presence in her life, ever since that mountain, as if they had marked her and decided to forever chase her.
Yennefer prepared a light dinner, and this time, she decided to knock on Ciri’s door.
“I made dinner,” she said through the closed door. “You can come down if you’d like.”
There was no response.
But a few minutes later, she heard her daughter’s footsteps on the stairs.
Progress. Small, but still progress.
They ate in silence, the quiet broken only by the clinking of cutlery. Outside, the wind stirred the branches, and despite the open windows, the air inside remained stifling. The same tension lingered between them.
“Maybe we could watch a movie?” Yennefer suggested as Ciri finished eating. A small attempt. A gentle knock on the door, her daughter had shut in her face.
“I’m tired,” Ciri said, pushing her chair back. “I’m going to bed.”
Yennefer nodded, masking her disappointment. She couldn’t expect her to fix what she had broken.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said quietly.
Ciri hesitated for a moment, as if about to say something.
But eventually, she only gave a small nod before heading upstairs.
Yennefer stayed in the kitchen for a long time, listening to the distant rumble of the approaching storm. The first drops of rain tapped against the windows as she cleared the table. When she was done, she took a shower, feeling the hot water cascade down her skin, but it did nothing to soothe her mind.
She went to bed early, book in hand, though she wasn’t really reading. The words blurred before her eyes, her thoughts circling back to last night’s outburst, to Ciri’s tears, to everything her daughter had said. To those damn pink harnesses, which now seemed so insignificant. To the punctured tire, the scratch on the car... And then, inevitably, back to Triss.
Yennefer tossed and turned. Her thoughts circled nothing but dark and painful things. Outside the window, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the distant rumble of thunder. The cornflower-blue curtains hung still, as if they could shield her from the storm.
The first storm was already passing over her house, but she had seen on the weather radar that another one was approaching. Still far away, but unstoppable.
It was going to be a long night.
It was nearly midnight when the soft creak of a door pulled her from the haze of half-sleep. A small figure stood in the doorway, barely visible in the darkness.
“Mom? Are you awake?” Ciri’s voice was quiet, uncertain.
Yennefer propped herself up on one elbow.
“I am. What’s wrong?”
Ciri shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and another flash of lightning briefly illuminated her face.
“Can I… can I sleep here?”
Without a word, Yennefer lifted the blanket, making space beside her.
Ciri slid into bed, close but not quite touching. Still maintaining that small, stubborn distance that symbolized her lingering resentment. They lay in silence for a while, listening to the storm grow stronger. The thunder rolled closer, and the rain began to drum against the roof.
“Are you afraid of storms?” Yennefer asked softly.
“No,” Ciri replied. After a brief hesitation, she added, “I just couldn’t sleep.”
Another bolt of lightning split the sky, and the thunder followed almost immediately. The storm was right above them now. Ciri shifted closer, and Yennefer instinctively wrapped an arm around her.
“Are you still mad at me?” Ciri’s voice was so quiet it nearly drowned in the sound of the rain.
“No,” Yennefer answered honestly. “I was never mad at you. I was mad at the situation. At myself.”
“Were the harnesses really that scary?”
Yennefer hesitated, wondering how much she could say without scaring her daughter.
“It wasn’t just about the harnesses,” she admitted at last. “There’s been a lot going on lately, and I don’t know how to handle it. But that doesn’t excuse how I treated you.”
Ciri nestled closer into her mother’s embrace.
“I’m sorry I said I wasn’t going on the trip,” she murmured. “I really do want to go.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Yennefer whispered, stroking her hair. “I want to go with you too. It’s going to be good, you’ll see.”
“Mom?” Ciri lifted her head, looking at her in the dim light.
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to get work alerts while we’re at the beach?”
Yennefer heard the worry in her voice. The same fear that had surfaced during their argument.
“No,” Yennefer said firmly. “This week is just for us. I promise.”
“Really?” Ciri’s voice carried disbelief.
“Really,” Yennefer reassured her with a small smile.
Ciri snuggled closer, and Yennefer felt the tension slowly leave her daughter’s body.
"And can I ride in the front seat?" Ciri asked sleepily.
"Yes," Yennefer answered simply.
"And we'll go looking for amber?"
"As much as you want," she murmured, pressing a kiss to her daughter's head as Ciri curled more comfortably against her.
There was a brief pause, filled only by the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. Yennefer found the sound unexpectedly soothing, much like Ciri's presence beside her.
"Goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight, my pretty one. I love you."
The storm raged on, but now it no longer seemed so frightening. Yennefer adjusted herself slightly, resting her cheek against Ciri’s head, closing her eyes. She listened to her daughter’s breathing, recognizing the exact moment she finally drifted off.
It was peaceful.
That peace finally reached her too, wrapping around her like a quiet, steady presence. Ciri lay on a small pillow against her arm, yet she didn’t even feel the weight of her. Sleep pulled at her, and for once, she didn’t fight it. She was grateful for it. Tomorrow, they were leaving.
A week just for the two of them, away from everything else.Maybe there, by the sea, she would finally find the answers she had been so desperately trying to ignore.
She closed her eyes, needing the rest.
Notes:
If you're reading this story and enjoying it, please let me know in the comments. Share your thoughts or even just one word—I'm making it a challenge! 😇
Chapter 15
Notes:
A long chapter, but how could I not let them enjoy their vacation? ;)
Plus, this trip is really important for Yen… See for yourself!
Enjoy reading, and can’t wait to hear your thoughts <3
Chapter Text
They were slowly approaching their destination. Yennefer followed the navigation instructions and pulled up in front of a modest yet charming house. It didn’t look like the typical seaside vacation homes. This one was solid, made of brick, surrounded by a neatly trimmed lawn. Shrubs grew around it, providing a touch of privacy, and just behind the house, a small pine grove stretched out, which—according to Geralt—separated the property from the beach.
“Is this it?” Ciri asked, leaning forward from the front seat.
Yennefer tilted toward her, glancing at the house number.
“I think so,” she replied, driving through the open gate and parking on the small driveway in front of the garage.
As soon as she stepped out of the car, she noticed the difference. The weather here was entirely different from what they had left behind—storm clouds, rain, and a particularly gray morning. Here, the sky gleamed with a clear blue, and the scent of pines and sea breeze filled the air. She took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill her lungs. It was cooler than she had expected, but the freshness was a welcome relief after hours in the car.
Ciri immediately jumped out and opened the back door. Pontar leaped from the car, nose to the ground, eagerly sniffing every possible corner, his tail wagging with excitement. Yennefer stretched, easing the stiffness in her muscles.
Before them stood a two-story, elegant house, straight out of an architecture catalog. Its white facade blended perfectly with the wooden accents around the windows. The garage door matched in the same warm shade of wood, complementing the overall aesthetic. A stone-clad foundation gave the house a solid yet stylish base. To the side, there was a swing set and a colorful playhouse with a slide, and a little further away, a designated barbecue area. Everything was well-thought-out, tidy, and radiated a sense of peace.
This wasn’t a typical seaside resort—no cramped rental cottages, no crowds of tourists. Just regular houses on regular plots, each with its own bit of space. If not for the fact that it belonged to Geralt’s parents, she probably wouldn’t have been able to afford to rent it for a whole week.
Suddenly, the front door opened, and a young woman appeared. Yennefer froze for a brief moment.
The woman was around thirty, with short, wavy, auburn hair cut into a layered bob. It was red, but slightly more red than Triss's hair. This girl also had freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, and something about her smile caught Yennefer’s attention in a way she normally wouldn’t have noticed.
“Ms. Vengerberg?” the woman asked with a welcoming smile. “Hi! I’m Rayla, the caretaker for the house. The owners told me you’d be arriving this afternoon.”
Yennefer nodded and stepped closer, noticing the woman's warm brown eyes that sparkled as she smiled.
“I’m Yennefer. Sorry about the dog,” she said. “He’s curious.”
“Oh, no problem at all!” Rayla laughed. “I love dogs. And he’s more than welcome here. The beach is dog-friendly too.”
“That’s great,” Yennefer smiled back.
“My mom usually takes care of the house. We live nearby, but she went on vacation to the mountains,” Rayla added, leading them inside.
“What a coincidence,” Yennefer replied, suddenly aware of how her voice sounded, of the way she smiled.
“The best coincidences are like that,” Rayla shot back smoothly. “I’ll leave you my number, if anything comes up, just give me a call. Ms. Rivia said you’re a responsible rescue worker, so I don’t need to check on you as much as I do with others,” she added with a teasing grin.
“She actually said something nice about me? I’m shocked,” Yennefer quipped, catching the way Rayla tucked her hair behind her ear. A gesture that felt strangely familiar. “It’s beautiful here. Really beautiful.”
“Yeah, it’s the perfect spot for a perfect vacation,” Rayla winked, turning slightly to gesture toward the playground and the grill. “Feel free to use everything and make yourselves at home.”
Was that wink just friendly, or something more? Once, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Now, though, she caught herself analyzing the tone, the gesture, the glance, through a new lens.
She thought briefly about all those intense friendships from her past, the girls whose presence had always made her feel more alive. Had she been missing something this whole time?
Ciri barely greeted them before dashing upstairs to pick a room, her footsteps echoing against the wooden stairs.
Yennefer was left alone with Rayla for a moment.
“I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here,” Rayla said, handing her the spare keys. A silver ring glinted on her finger. “If you need anything, my number is on the fridge. I live just a few houses down.”
“Thanks,” Yennefer replied, keeping her tone neutral, though her mind was processing every detail of this interaction with newfound attentiveness.
Once Rayla left, Yennefer stepped inside, standing for a moment in the quiet living room. From upstairs, Ciri’s excited voice carried down as she explored her room.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting warm golden tones on the wooden floor. The walls were white, just like outside, but alongside the wood, there were splashes of blue and yellow everywhere. The house had a coastal charm woven into every detail. Even though she hadn’t seen the sea yet, she could feel it was close.
Despite the pastel colors and the light atmosphere, it felt as if she were looking at the world through a freshly polished lens—everything seemed sharper, clearer, filled with details she had previously overlooked.
“Mom!” Ciri’s voice called from upstairs. “I can see the forest from my window! Come look!”
Yennefer smiled and headed up the stairs to her daughter. Everything else could wait.
When she came back downstairs, she started unloading the suitcases from the car. Despite the exhaustion from the long journey, she felt different. Like something inside her had loosened.
“Mom, can we go to the beach? Now? Right now?” Ciri ran down the stairs, already changed into a light, youthful dress. A collection of colorful bracelets adorned her wrist—the ones she and Cerys had been making obsessively all summer.
Yennefer glanced at her watch, it was almost five. The rational part of her told her they should unpack first, organize their things, get the house in order.
But something else whispered otherwise.
“You know what? You’re right. The most important things are already inside. We’ll unpack the rest later.”
Ciri let out a delighted squeal and bounced on her feet, while Pontar joined her enthusiasm, circling her legs. Yennefer left the suitcases by the door, turned the key in the lock, and followed them.
At the back of the house stretched a spacious wooden deck that flowed naturally from the living area. Dark, wenge wood planks, polished to a smooth finish, led down to the lawn via a few simple steps. A rustic stone half-wall enclosed part of the terrace. Two inviting lounge chairs occupied one corner, while a round wooden table with cushioned benches stood nearby—the perfect spot for morning coffee or an evening glass of wine.
The space felt both open and intimate, and Yennefer already imagined herself returning here later with a book.
They walked slowly through the pine grove, Ciri darting ahead before scampering back, bubbling with excitement. Pontar stayed close, investigating every bush and tree along the way. The air hung pleasant, rich with nature's scent.
“Do you hear that?” Ciri stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. “That's the sea!”
Rhythmic sound of waves growing clearer with each step. The path wound between the trees, gently rising then dipping down again. Beyond the final turn, it appeared. The sea stretched before them. Vast and endless, deep blue melting into the horizon.
The beach spread wide, covered in fine, pale sand, dotted with small groups of people. A few couples strolled along the shoreline, their footprints quickly washed away by the waves. Further ahead, several people were out with their dogs, the animals darting playfully in and out of the shallows. Laughter carried through the air as children splashed in the water—the only ones brave enough to fully embrace the chilly sea.
“Wow,” Ciri whispered, her eyes widening. “It’s huge.”
Yennefer smiled as something inside her loosened at the sight of the vastness. The mountains she loved so much had always given her a sense of stability and strength. The sea was different—restless, ever-changing. Yet somehow, that boundless expanse, that endless horizon, was exactly what she needed.
She watched Ciri kick off her sandals and run toward the water. Pontar hesitated, lingering by Yennefer's side until they reached the shoreline, where he turned to her with those pleading eyes of his.
“You’re free,” she said with a nod.
That was all he needed. He darted off immediately, catching up to Ciri, who had already waded into the shallows.
Yennefer removed her shoes and tucked them, along with Ciri's sandals, into the small canvas backpack she'd brought just in case. She stepped toward the shoreline, feeling the sand shift beneath her feet—first dry and soft, then damp and firm. As waves lapped at her ankles, she drew in a sharp breath. The water was colder than expected, but after the initial shock, the sensation felt almost cleansing.
She strolled along the water's edge, mindful of how her feet sank into the sand, how each wave wrapped around her ankles and left goosebumps in its wake. Pontar and Ciri splashed around, chasing each other in the shallows. Her daughter was already soaked and covered in sand, while Pontar's white fur had taken on a golden hue.
It surprised her how little she cared.
Just days ago, she would have been irritated by the messy clothes, the wet dog, the sand that would inevitably end up everywhere—in the car, in the house, in their beds.
Now, all she felt was… peace.
She reached into her pocket for her phone and snapped a photo—Ciri running alongside Pontar, the sea stretching behind them, the sun inching lazily toward the horizon but still glowing bright, casting everything in warm, golden light.
She hesitated for a moment, then opened her messages and sent the photo to Triss.
‘It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.’
The reply came almost instantly.
‘You have no idea how jealous I am! I’m stuck in a stuffy office with a view of a parking lot…’
Yennefer smiled at her screen. She could almost hear Triss’s voice.
'Sorry. I promise to send more pictures just to properly piss you off.'
'I’ll be waiting ;)'
Yennefer tucked her phone away, realizing she'd crafted the perfect excuse to talk to her every day. She would send vacation photos—not out of longing, naturally, but to playfully tease her. Because that felt more like her style. The thought brought a smile to her face that lingered as she continued her walk.
Finally, as the sun sank toward the horizon, they turned back.
When they reached what Yennefer estimated was directly behind their house, Ciri launched into an important mission—digging tunnels in the sand and watching the waves wash them away. Pontar offered his enthusiastic help, which mainly involved scattering everything Ciri had just built.
Yennefer settled a little distance away on the still-warm sand, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her hands.
She watched Ciri, she was completely covered in sand, her wet hair sticking to her face, but wearing a smile that Yennefer hadn’t seen in a long time.
She watched Pontar, whose usually fluffy white fur now clung to his body, making him look like a much smaller dog.
And then, she looked at the sea.
At the sky, deepening into warmer, richer hues.
At the waves, rolling in and retreating in that slow, hypnotic rhythm.
She pulled out her phone and took another picture. This time, just the sea and the setting sun, simple and pure in its composition.
For a moment, she stared at the image before adding it to her Instagram story without thinking too much about it. She knew Triss would see it. And maybe that was the only reason she posted it.
When they returned home, Yennefer got to work carrying the suitcases inside, while Ciri attempted to brush Pontar in the yard. Attempted being the key word—the dog kept spinning in circles, too excited by all the new scents to sit still.
“Leave him be,” Yennefer called out, hauling in the last bag. “He’ll dry off on his own, and we’ll bathe him later.”
Ciri gratefully dropped the brush and ran upstairs to check out her room. Yennefer smiled and followed her, eager to finally see where she’d be sleeping.
She opened the bedroom door and froze in the doorway.
Soft light filtered through the large window, almost reaching the floor, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. The entire house had a cozy, coastal aesthetic, but this bedroom was delightful.
The room itself was rather narrow, not particularly large, but the bed was massive and soft, stretching from one wall to the other as if custom-built for this very spot. It looked like it could swallow up all her stress and exhaustion.
Her gaze lingered for a moment on the wooden beam mounted above the bed—delicate curtains hung from it, cascading down in soft waves, tied back with straw-colored cords. The fabric had a warm, off-white hue, giving the whole setup a dreamlike quality. The sloped ceiling, typical of an attic space, made the room feel even cozier.
There was one small dresser, positioned between the door and the bed, directly across from the window. On top sat a decorative jar filled with sand, wrapped with simple twine, resting on a handmade lace doily, alongside a few candles.
Yennefer stepped closer, brushing her fingers lightly over the fabric.
Above the dresser, two cream-colored macramés hung on the wall. Immediately reminding her of Triss and the plant festival they had visited together.
Opposite the bed stood a white sliding wardrobe, perfectly fitted to the space between the walls, just as the bed was. Something about having the wardrobe directly across from her bed made her feel oddly at home. It had three doors, two of them mirrored, making the room appear more spacious.
Standing in the middle of the soft straw-colored rug, the space felt much bigger than it actually was.
The window overlooked the forest, much like Ciri’s did. She opened it, letting in the fresh evening air. Long, delicate curtains, made from the same material as the canopy over the bed, swayed gently in the evening breeze.
It was the bedroom of a true seaside princess. For once in her life, she could allow herself to feel like one.
She tossed her bags into the wardrobe, deciding to unpack later, and headed downstairs.
Ciri was on the phone with Geralt, pacing around the living room, excitedly recounting their beach trip.
Yennefer made her way to the kitchen, wondering if there was a nearby store or a restaurant that offered delivery. She opened the fridge, not expecting much, and then froze in surprise. It was stocked—fresh vegetables, fruit, eggs, yogurts, cheeses—everything Ciri loved. Which meant everything she loved, too.
She glanced over at her daughter, who was still animatedly chatting on the phone. This had to be Geralt’s doing. Warmth spread through her chest. He really wanted them to relax. To have everything they needed.
She went back to the car to grab the bags of dog food and prepared Pontar’s dinner. For herself and Ciri, she made a simple salad and sandwiches—after such an eventful day, neither of them was in the mood for a heavy meal.
Ciri finished eating unusually fast and immediately ran upstairs to set up her room and call Cerys. Left alone at the table, Yennefer considered, for a brief moment, whether she should text Triss.
But what would she even say?
She had already sent the beach photo. Anything more might seem… too much. No, better to wait until tomorrow.
Instead, she sent a quick thank-you message to Geralt, who simply replied: No problem. Have fun.
She busied herself with getting to know the house. She checked every cabinet, every drawer, memorizing where everything was. When she found a cordless vacuum, she immediately put it to use, getting rid of the sand they had tracked in from the beach.
Then she ushered Ciri into the shower and off to bed, though her daughter protested, insisting she was old enough to decide her own bedtime.
Afterward, she took Pontar outside for a thorough brushing before setting up his sleeping spot. She didn’t want him in the guest rooms, but she didn’t want him too far away either. She placed his bed in the upstairs hallway, positioned so that, lying there, he could keep an eye on both her and Ciri through their slightly open doors.
The bathroom, too, was designed in a coastal style, with navy-blue accents breaking up the pastel shades. Yennefer took a quick shower, washing off the sand and sweat. As she towel-dried her hair, she caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled slightly, shaking her head.
She was happy.
She went downstairs one last time before heading to bed. She checked if the gate was locked, clicking the key fob from a distance to double-check that the car was secure as well. Then, she carefully secured the house—doors, windows on the first floor. The upstairs ones could stay open, letting in the fresh sea air.
She had barely sunk into the soft mattress, surrounded by a sea of pillows when the door creaked quietly. Ciri stood in the doorway, barefoot, her hair still damps from the shower. Without a word, Yennefer pulled back the covers, making space in the massive bed. Ciri slipped under the blankets and curled up with her back to her—not needing to be held, just needing her presence. That was just how it was. The first night in a new place was always a challenge for her.
Yennefer lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of her daughter’s breathing, which soon became slow and even. Silvery moonlight filtered through the window, and from afar, the faint murmur of waves reached her ears. At least, that’s how she imagined it. The sound of the sea and the soft wind weaving through the tall pines.
Before drifting off to sleep, she checked her phone one final time. Triss had seen and liked her Instagram story.
With that thought, she allowed herself to drift into sleep. Deeper and more restful than any she’d had in weeks.
Yennefer woke up slowly, first aware of the warmth of another body beside her, then of the refreshing air drifting in through the slightly open window. She opened her eyes.
Ciri was still asleep, curled up at the very edge of the enormous bed. Pontar lifted his head from his bed, caught her gaze for a second, then flopped back down, rolling onto his back in that comically relaxed way of his.
Normally, by this time, her mind would already be racing ahead. But today, she decided to try something different. She focused on sensations. The softness of the sheets, the scent of sea air mingling with the fresh linen, the gentle morning light.
Ciri stirred, stretching like a cat.
“What time is it?” she mumbled without opening her eyes.
“Early,” Yennefer replied, reaching for the phone tucked under her pillow. “Just past six.”
“Mmm.” Ciri yawned and rolled onto her other side, but then, suddenly, her eyes flew open. “We're at the beach!”
The sudden realization of their first morning on vacation brought a smile to Yennefer’s face. Ciri instantly sat up, now fully awake.
“Can we go to the beach? Now?”
“Maybe breakfast first?” Yennefer suggested, though the knowledge that there was no rush, no schedule, no deadlines felt like a soothing balm. “The fridge is full. We can eat outside on the terrace.”
It was such a simple decision, yet it made Ciri bounce out of bed with excitement. Pontar followed her downstairs, clearly just as thrilled.
Yennefer remained where she was. Through the open door, she could hear Ciri running around the house, Pontar’s paws tapping against the wooden floor as he followed.
She stretched, slowly raising her arms over her head. Her body felt pleasantly relaxed despite sleeping in an unfamiliar bed.
Without rushing, she got up and walked to the window. The view took her breath away—the forest bathed in morning sunlight, the sky clear and endless, promising a perfect beach day. She took out her phone and snapped a photo, capturing the moment before heading to the bathroom, grabbing her robe from the wardrobe on the way.
By the time she made it downstairs, Ciri was already setting the table on the terrace. Ttwo plates, cups, cutlery, everything slightly askew but arranged with real effort.
“I set the table,” she announced proudly.
“I can see that. Need help with the rest?”
“No, I got it!” Ciri hesitated. “But… you can make your own coffee.”
In the end, they prepared breakfast together.
Ciri arranged vegetables on the plate in elaborate patterns, while Yennefer fried eggs and toasted bread. By the time they sat outside, the sun was warm enough for them to comfortably stay in their pajamas.
“We need to make a plan,” Ciri declared, biting into her toast.
“A plan?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow. “I thought these were supposed to be spontaneous vacations.”
“Yeah, but we can’t miss anything!” Ciri started counting on her fingers. “A full day at the beach, searching for amber, exploring the area, maybe an amusement park?”
Yennefer smiled at her enthusiasm.
“How about today we just focus on the beach?” she suggested. “And tomorrow, we can plan more.”
Ciri agreed so eagerly that Yennefer found herself wondering if they should have been spending more time by the water all along.
While washing the dishes, as Ciri ran off to prepare her beach things, Yennefer took out her phone and sent the morning photo to Triss.
‘Day two. Still disgustingly beautiful here.’
The reply came as they were packing the beach bag.
‘Wow! I demand more pictures like this! Have a lovely day, girls—enjoy the weather!’
Smiling to herself, Yennefer typed back:
‘You ruined the fun. You were supposed to be jealous, not happy for me.’
‘Oh, my apologies. I hope that forest is full of mosquitoes and that they all fly into your room through the window.’
Yennefer laughed out loud, drawing Ciri’s attention.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing much. Triss is pretending to be jealous of our vacation.”
“She should be,” Ciri stated seriously. “This place is amazing.”
Once again, the beach was nearly empty—just a few joggers, an elderly couple strolling along the shoreline, and a handful of small groups of young people. All far enough away that she was reminded of Geralt’s words, reassuring her that she’d like this place.
They set up camp in the same spot as yesterday, though this time, maybe a little closer to the water. There was a fairly large rock on the beach, and Yennefer decided to use it as a navigation point. Ciri, with the dog at her heels, immediately ran toward the water, leaving behind a trail of footprints on the damp sand.
Yennefer spread out a second blanket and sat down, watching her daughter with quiet pleasure. She reached into her bag for the book she’d brought on vacation—a novel, not another handbook on rescue techniques.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d read something purely for enjoyment. But even when she opened the book, her gaze kept drifting back to Ciri. She watched as her daughter waded through the water, peeked under rocks—probably searching for amber—bent down to pick up a seashell.
Such simple things, yet so precious.
Could she have more moments like this? Not just during vacations, but in everyday life?
The thought of returning to her daily routine—shifts, rescue missions, endless phone calls—made her chest tighten. She felt torn between the desire to be with Ciri and the need to save others. But did it really have to be a choice: one or the other?
Maybe Ciri was right when she said Yennefer was either absent or only half-present, always waiting for a call. Maybe she really could find a way to give her daughter more of herself. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally too.
“Mom, look!” Ciri ran over with a handful of seashells in various shapes and colors. “Can we make something out of them?”
“Of course,” Yennefer replied, putting her book aside. “I think if we collect more, add a little sand to a jar, it’ll make a beautiful keepsake.”
“Maybe we can find a souvenir shop in town and buy a jar there?” Ciri suggested, spilling her treasures onto the blanket.
“Good idea. We can go tomorrow if you’d like.”
Ciri nodded but didn’t run back to the water. Instead, she lay down beside her mother, sorting through her collection.
“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.
“Very nice,” Yennefer agreed, glancing at her daughter’s profile. Lately, Ciri had grown so much. Her face was losing its childlike roundness, her features becoming more defined.
“I wish we could stay for a whole month,” Ciri sighed.
“Yeah,” Yennefer said, surprised to realize she actually meant it. “But we can make this week special.”
“And can we come back next year? Maybe stay longer?”
Yennefer hesitated. She didn’t want to make promises she might not be able to keep. But she also didn’t want to take away the hope she saw in Ciri’s eyes.
“We can plan for a longer vacation next year,” she said carefully.
“Yes! It has to be by the sea! This is what a real vacation feels like, Mom!”
After that declaration, Ciri ran back to the water.
Yennefer sat with her book and relaxed, occasionally taking pictures. She already had quite a few in her gallery but found that she enjoyed it. She used to take many photos when Pontar was a puppy and when their training schedule was more flexible. Then she had stopped, gradually, almost without noticing. For the first time, she wondered why.
She couldn’t come up with a logical answer, so she stuck to her usual excuse. She was just tired.
A few hours later, when the sun was high in the sky, Ciri started showing the first signs of boredom. Despite bringing a beach ball, a Frisbee, and a bubble wand, her energy began to wane. She had eaten almost all the sandwiches that were supposed to be their lunch and was starting to get cranky.
“Maybe we should go for a walk?” Yennefer suggested, watching Ciri mindlessly sift sand through her fingers. “Let’s see what’s beyond that rock.”
She pointed to the rocky outcrop visible in the distance, marking the end of their cove.
Ciri agreed without fuss. They packed up, leaving most of their things safely under a low pine tree, taking only water, snacks, and Pontar’s leash. Their bag only held blankets and spare clothes—nothing too valuable, even if someone took them.
Then they set off along the shore.
The walk turned out to be an excellent idea. Beyond the rock, they discovered a small, secluded cove with an even smaller wild beach covered in stones. Pontar immediately dashed along the water’s edge, barking joyfully at the seagulls that flew too close.
“Magic!” Ciri exclaimed, looking around. “Our own private beach!”
Yennefer smiled, seeing her daughter’s excitement. They sat on a rock, sharing the last sandwich they had brought with them. The sun was pleasantly warm but not too hot. The sea shimmered in shades of blue and green, changing color depending on the depth and angle of the sunlight.
“It’s so different from the mountains,” Ciri observed, glancing at her mother.
“Different, but just as beautiful,” Yennefer agreed.
“Do you think we’ll ever move here?” Ciri asked, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Yennefer looked at her in surprise.
“To the seaside? I don’t know… I’ve never really thought about it.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes, especially after difficult rescue missions, when exhaustion and pressure weighed heavily on her, she imagined living somewhere else. A quieter place, where alarms wouldn’t pull her out of sleep, where she wouldn’t always be on high alert. But it had always been just a vague idea, a fleeting dream.
“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Ciri gazed out at the horizon. “I could go to a school near the beach, invite Cerys for summer vacation…”
“Could you really last more than a week without Cerys?” Yennefer teased lightly.
“Okay, fine…” Ciri sighed. “Cerys would have to move too.”
“Of course,” Yennefer nodded, amused at how simple everything seemed to children. Or maybe it was simple, and adults were the ones who overcomplicated things?
Pontar returned, carrying a stick in his mouth that he had found on the beach. Yennefer took it and threw it far towards the water. The dog sprinted after it, sending sprays of seawater into the air.
They sat there for a while, just watching the sea, occasionally chatting but mostly enjoying the peace and each other’s presence. Yennefer realized she was letting her thoughts drift freely, not trying to control or direct them. It was… refreshing.
Ciri kept bringing her different stones, and at some point, Yennefer’s bag became noticeably heavy. On their way back, as they passed the rock and returned to their beach, Ciri suddenly stopped.
“Look!” She pointed at something glistening in the sand.
They stepped closer. It was a piece of amber. Small but with a beautiful honey-colored hue.
“My first find!” Ciri held it carefully, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. “This must be a sign that we’re going to have the best vacation ever.”
Yennefer smiled, touching the small stone.
“I think we already are,” she said softly.
She took a photo of the amber in Ciri’s hand and sent it to Triss.
'The treasures we find. Ciri wants me to start looking for a new home by the sea.'
Triss’s reply came almost instantly:
'Beautiful! Tell Ciri it’s a great idea, but only if there’s a guest room. And a sunset view.'
A warm wave washed over Yennefer.
Triss, visiting them in their imaginary seaside house, sipping wine on the terrace, her hair glowing in the golden light of the setting sun.
There was something so natural about it, so… tempting.
“Triss?” Ciri asked, glancing at her mother’s phone.
“Yes.” Yennefer quickly put the phone away, as if she had been caught doing something inappropriate. “I showed her your find.”
“Tell her she can come visit us next year if we move here,” Ciri said with disarming simplicity.
Yennefer looked at her daughter, wondering if Ciri had noticed something. Was she really that transparent in her feelings?
“I already told her. Are you reading my mind?” she replied, trying to sound playful.
“Of course, Mom!”
When they returned to their little beach camp, the sun had started to lose some of its intensity. They both agreed it was the perfect time to go for a walk around the area. They gathered their things, tossed them onto the terrace, leashed Pontar, and set off to explore beyond the grove and the beach.
The town turned out to be charming—small but filled with modern cottages, little shops, and playgrounds for children. It had that unique charm that always seemed to accompany small coastal towns. They tried some local ice cream and bought fresh rolls for dinner.
Walking back to the house, Yennefer felt pleasantly tired but also deeply content. The day had passed without a schedule, without rush, yet it was full of experiences. More importantly, she felt truly present—not just physically, but with her whole being. She noticed the tastes, the scents, the sights, the sounds.
In the evening, after her bath, Ciri sat in the living room, writing furiously in her journal. A little while later, she fell asleep, completely disconnected from the world. Yennefer wanted to carry her to bed, but the moment she tried to pick her up, Ciri woke up. Sleepy in the most adorable way, she found her way to bed on her own.
Yennefer stepped out onto the terrace with an iced tea, gazing up at the starry sky. By the sea, the stars seemed brighter, closer. She sat there for a long time, without a book, without her phone. Just herself.
And once again, she let her thoughts drift.
The second morning by the sea greeted them with equally beautiful weather, but this time, Ciri was eager to explore, having satisfied her craving for lazy beach lounging the day before.
“Can we go see the port?” she asked over breakfast, flipping through a guidebook she had found in a drawer in the living room. “It says here there's an old lighthouse and souvenir shops.”
Yennefer glanced at her daughter over the rim of her coffee cup. Yesterday, the sea, today the port. Ciri seemed determined to check off every vacation attraction at record speed.
“Sounds good,” she agreed, surprised by her own flexibility. “But first, we need to figure something out for Pontar.”
The dog perked up at the mention of his name, ears twitching as he looked at them with hopeful eyes.
“Can we take him with us?” Ciri asked.
“The port will be busier than the beach. Maybe it's better if he stays home?”
The decision was met with loud protest—not from Ciri, but from Pontar, who let out a long, dramatic whimper.
“Alright,” Yennefer sighed with a smile. “You can come, but you have to behave.”
Thirty minutes later, they were on their way to the port. Yennefer opted for a walk instead of driving—it wasn’t far, and the day was perfect for a stroll. They followed the promenade along the water, passing other tourists, fishing boats gently swaying with the waves, and seagulls circling searching for treats.
The port was exactly as described in the guidebook—picturesque, with rocky piers, an old lighthouse towering over the area, and the typical clusters of little shops, stalls, and cafés found in seaside towns. Wooden docks stretched far into the water, their moored boats creating a forest of masts gently swaying in the breeze.
They headed toward the souvenir stalls, Pontar obediently staying close on his leash. A long promenade ran along the waterfront, lined with colorful stands offering everything and nothing—from cheap trinkets and magnets to truly unique, handcrafted pieces.
Yennefer was surprised by how much she enjoyed this simplest of activities—wandering without rush, browsing through little treasures, letting Ciri stop at every stall that caught her interest. Normally, she would have felt impatient, glancing at her watch, thinking about how many more things they could see if they just moved a little faster.
Today, she simply walked, focusing on the small joys—the warmth of the sun on her skin, the scent of fresh waffles and cotton candy, the sound of Ciri’s voice, the steady weight of the leash in her hand.
At one stall, Yennefer stopped, drawn in by the delicate beauty of the macramé pieces on display. They were similar to the ones in their cottage but more intricate, hanging from beautifully weathered pieces of driftwood.
“They're beautiful,” she said to the woman behind the counter.
“Thank you,” the woman replied with a smile. “I make them myself. Each one is unique because every piece of wood is different. Nature never brings two identical things.”
Yennefer ran her fingers over the soft fibers, admiring the precision of the knots. Immediately, she thought of Triss—of her apartment with its macramé pieces, of how these would fit her style perfectly.
“I’ll take this one,” she decided, pointing to a composition in warm ecru, suspended from a deep-colored piece of driftwood.
A few stalls down, Ciri was making her own purchases. She picked out a small macramé piece for Cerys and then stopped at a craft stall, carefully sorting through colorful strings, beads, and charms.
“What treasures have you got there?” Yennefer asked, joining her.
“I'll make a bracelet for Cerys,” Ciri explained, showing off her selected materials. “The ones at the stands are ugly, I can make a prettier one.”
She hesitated suddenly, glancing uncertainly at her supplies.
“But… will it still be a souvenir if I make it myself?”
Yennefer felt an unexpected tightness in her chest at that uncertainty.
“Yes, Ciri,” she answered gently. “You bought the materials here, and we can make them tonight on the beach or the terrace. I’m sure sand will get into it every time she thinks about it.”
Ciri visibly brightened, then gave her mother a mischievous smile.
“Will you make one for Triss? These are friendship bracelets.”
Yennefer felt a slight warmth rise to her cheeks.
“I don’t know how,” she admitted, though she had to admit, the idea was… intriguing.
“I’ll teach you!” Ciri immediately grabbed her hand, pulling her back toward the stall. “We just need to pick some colors…”
The vendor, a woman in her fifties with short, graying hair, smiled at them warmly.
“What color does Triss like?” Ciri asked, browsing through the strings. “Blue or more of a green?”
Yennefer hesitated. What color did Triss like? Had she ever paid attention?
“I think green, but I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“I know!” Ciri clapped her hands together. “Let’s do a gradient... From blue to sea green, starting with black and ending with white.”
Time passed pleasantly as they walked from one stall to another. They bought fresh pretzels, which they ate while sitting on a bench overlooking the sea. Pontar lay at their feet, surprisingly calm for such a crowded place. Every now and then, someone stopped to admire him, point him out to their companions, or simply watch him. The white Swiss shepherd drew attention with his majestic appearance and impeccable behavior.
“He could be an Instagram star,” Ciri joked, noticing yet another person secretly taking a picture of him.
“Triss said the same thing,” Yennefer recalled.
“Because it’s a great idea, I’m telling you!”
They laughed, teased each other, and acted like ordinary tourists—a new and refreshing experience for Yennefer. Even when Ciri insisted on checking out the ninth souvenir stand with seashells, she didn’t feel annoyed. Instead, she noticed the subtle differences in the displays, enjoyed her daughter’s enthusiasm, took photos of her against the backdrop of the sea, and sent the best ones to Triss.
When they returned to the cottage, Ciri immediately spread her treasures across the terrace table, eager to start making bracelets. Yennefer suggested they rest a bit first.
“If you say so,” Ciri shrugged, though it was clear she was barely holding back from diving straight into her project.
After a quick meal and a short break, they settled on the terrace as planned, ready to start their bracelet-making session. The sun had begun to dip slightly, casting golden light over their little 'workshop.' Pontar lay sprawled out on the cool wooden boards, watching them sleepily.
“Okay, I’ll show you how it’s done,” Ciri announced with the seriousness of a teacher. “It’s a simple knot pattern, but you have to be careful to keep them tight and even. Do you want stripes or a chevron?”
“Chevron?”
“It’s a bit harder, but you can do it.”
Yennefer nodded, suddenly genuinely interested. She couldn’t remember the last time Ciri had taught her something new. Ciri began demonstrating, her fingers moving skillfully, forming intricate knots with the colorful strings.
“Now you try,” she said, handing her the materials.
Yennefer took the strings, trying to mimic her daughter’s movements. The knots she usually tied at work were entirely different. Functional, strong, but simple and usually made with much thicker rope. These delicate weavings required a different kind of precision.
“No, not like that,” Ciri shook her head. “Look, it goes like this…”
She repeated the process, this time slower. Yennefer followed along, but the result still looked clumsy. She noticed the way Ciri’s face lit up with pride because for once, this was something she could do better than her mother.
Instead of her usual frustration, Yennefer found herself enjoying it. The confidence in Ciri’s voice, the way she patiently explained each step, how she showed off her skill. This was something she wanted to see more of.
“Show me again,” she asked, even though she was already getting the hang of it.
“Seriously, Mom, I thought mountain rescuers were supposed to be good at tying knots,” Ciri teased.
“I can tie knots that save lives,” Yennefer retorted. “But these little decorative loops of yours are a whole different game.”
“Sure, excuses,” Ciri grinned. “Just admit you’re terrible at making friendship bracelets.”
“I will never say that,” Yennefer gasped in mock offense. Then, in a sudden burst of playfulness she hadn’t felt in years, she reached out to tickle Ciri.
The girl shrieked, trying to escape, but she was too slow. Soon, they were both laughing as Yennefer tickled her sides, and Ciri tried to fight back, knocking half the materials off the table in the process.
“No! Stop!” Ciri squealed between giggles. “Mom, that’s not fair!”
“There are no fair play rules in tickling,” Yennefer declared, though she was already easing up.
“You’re the worst,” Ciri panted when she was finally freed.
“I thought I was just 'terrible at making bracelets'?”
“That too!”
They gathered the scattered strings, still giggling. Pontar watched them curiously, clearly puzzled by this sudden burst of energy.
“But seriously, I’ll show you how to do it,” Ciri promised as they sat back at the table. “It’s really not hard, it just takes patience.”
And so, the late afternoon passed. Filled with patient instructions, laughter, teasing, and slow progress in bracelet-making. To Yennefer’s surprise, she was actually getting the hang of it, though her movements were much slower than Ciri’s.
“I’m almost done with Cerys’ bracelet,” Ciri announced, holding up the nearly finished piece in shades of pink and purple. “What about you?”
Yennefer glanced at her own work. The bracelet for Triss was only halfway done, with the gradient shifting from deep blue to sea green, accented with black and white, just as Ciri had planned.
“I still have a bit left to do,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ll finish it tomorrow.”
“Think you’ll manage before we go back home?” Ciri asked, amused.
“Very funny,” Yennefer rolled her eyes but smiled. “As you can see, your mother can admit she’s not good at everything.”
“I’m writing this down in my journal. Historic moment.”
Their laughter carried across the terrace, blending with the distant sound of waves. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, Ciri pointed to the horizon.
“Can we go watch the sunset on the beach?”
Yennefer looked at her unfinished project and the scattered materials.
“Sure,” she said without hesitation. “We’ll clean this up later.”
The long, blue twilight slowly gave way to darkness. Night fell differently by the sea than in the mountains—more gradually, as if with hesitation. Yennefer made sure Ciri was sleeping soundly, exhausted from a day full of adventures. Pontar lay on his bed in the hallway, head resting on his paws, alert even in his slumber.
Instead of going to bed, Yennefer quietly went downstairs. She grabbed a blanket, a book, and an extra pillow. From the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of cider—Geralt’s doing, no doubt. He knew she didn’t drink alcohol, but tonight, she could allow herself a symbolic glass. She rummaged through the cupboard for a tumbler, then slipped out the back door into the garden.
She lit two mosquito torches, their citrus scent immediately filling the air. Taking a photo—the flame sharp and vivid against the black backdrop—she uploaded it to Instagram without thinking too much about why.
Back on the terrace, she wrapped herself in the blanket, poured a little cider, and set her book on the table.
But she didn’t open it.
Instead, she listened. To the distant murmur of waves, the rustling of pine trees, the quiet sounds of a summer night. The sky above was scattered with stars. Sharper than in the city, though not as crisp as in the mountains. She rested in that silence, letting the day’s tension dissolve into the darkness.
Almost instinctively, she reached for her phone. No response from Triss to the last photo she had sent that afternoon.
But that didn't stop Yennefer from thinking about her.
She took a sip of cider, letting the light tartness spread across her tongue. It was pleasant—light, refreshing, with barely a trace of alcohol in its taste.
She glanced at the phone in her hand, hesitating. She knew Triss often stayed up late. Would she be bothering her now? And did Triss even enjoy all these messages, or was she just politely responding, as any good friend would?
Because maybe that was the truth, Maybe Triss was just as kind and warm to everyone. What if it wasn’t anything special? What if Yennefer was just another person Triss showered with her attention?
The thought hurt more than she expected.
She listened to the waves again, to the chirping of crickets. The taste of cider lingered on her tongue, and the slight buzz of alcohol gave her courage. She typed:
'Sorry for constantly sending you pictures and messages. I hope they’re not annoying. I don’t want to bother you.'
Her finger hovered over the send button. It was too open, too honest. But maybe honesty was what she needed. She pressed send before she could change her mind.
Setting the phone down, she tried to distract herself with her book, focusing on the words. The message alert interrupted her thoughts.
'What? Absolutely not! I love your photos and messages. Honestly, I wait for them. I’m sorry I don’t text more, I just didn’t want to interrupt your time with Ciri. But really, Yen, your messages are the best part of my day.'
Yennefer reread the message several times, feeling her body react in its own way.
'So you don’t think I’m being an obnoxious oversharer with all these vacation photos?'
'No, I have to admit they’re all beautiful. You have an eye for great shots. It’s obvious they’re yours. I want more!'
Yennefer smiled at her phone, feeling a strange lightness settle over her.
'That’s good because I have plenty more. And maybe a few surprises.'
She hesitated before mentioning the bracelet. Let it remain a secret for now, a little mystery she could carry through the rest of the trip.
'I can’t wait'!
Yennefer set her phone down, feeling an odd sense of peace. She finished her cider, extinguished the torches, and gathered her things before heading inside.
As she climbed the stairs, she noticed Pontar lifting his head to look at her before resting it back down, reassured by her return.
In her own room, Yennefer placed the phone on her nightstand and slipped into bed. She felt different, but it was good.
And Triss didn’t find her annoying. She waited for her messages. She hadn’t texted first because she didn’t want to intrude.
It was logical.
The next day was the hottest so far. The sun blazed mercilessly from early morning, forcing them to take frequent breaks from the beach, seek shade, and stay constantly hydrated.
“Mum, look!” Ciri called, running up to her and interrupting her game with the other children.
Yennefer turned away and immediately noticed the dark line of clouds rolling in from the south. Deep navy, almost black, they blended with the sea in a menacing display that most beach goers seemed to ignore. But she knew better.
“We’re packing up,” she said calmly but firmly, already gathering their belongings.
“But why?” Ciri protested. “No one else is leaving!”
“Ciri, I don’t care what anyone else is doing,” Yennefer replied, not pausing in her packing. “Help me fold the blanket. We can stay for a little longer, but I want everything packed just in case.”
Ciri obeyed reluctantly but without further argument. Yennefer worked quickly and efficiently, closing the beach bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept track of the approaching clouds. They were closer than they seemed, carried by a light but hot wind.
Pontar stood at the boundary between sand and water, as if sensing the change in the atmosphere. His white fur stood out starkly against the darkening sky. In the distance, the first low rumble of thunder echoed.
“Stay,” she told the dog, reaching for her phone.
She couldn’t help herself. Despite her obsession with safety, despite her instinct urging her to hurry, she had to capture this moment. Pontar, motionless and alert, his white coat almost glowing against the dark sea and the approaching storm. The image carried a tension. The tension she always felt before a rescue mission, before facing the forces of nature.
She took a few shots, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline. She smiled unconsciously, recognizing the feeling.
“Free,” she said when she finished her impromptu photo session.
She stroked the dog, who immediately dashed off toward Ciri and the two other children she had befriended. Yennefer had exchanged a few words with their parents earlier that morning, assuring them that Pontar was well-trained and incredibly gentle with kids, but she hadn’t gone into details about her work. She didn’t want to be the rescuer with a dog here. She just wanted to be… herself. Whoever she was outside of her profession.
She scrolled through the pictures, picked the best one, and uploaded it to her story. Then she paused for a moment, watching the storm roll in. There was something hypnotic about it. How slowly it approached, how the wall of rain visible in the distance seemed to merge with the sea. But when the next clap of thunder sounded much closer, she knew it was time to leave.
“Ciri!” she called, waving her hand. “We have to go, now!”
Ciri reluctantly said goodbye to her new friends, and Yennefer noticed that other families were finally starting to pack up as well, realizing the approaching danger.
They walked briskly, Pontar staying close as if sensing the tension. The wind picked up, tugging at their hair and clothes. They were already halfway back to the house when the first heavy raindrops began to fall.
“Faster!” Yennefer urged, spotting the roof of their cottage between the trees.
They were barely fifteen meters from the door when the sky seemed to tear open. The rain didn’t just fall. It poured from the clouds, drenching them to the bone instantly. They ran to the door, laughing and shrieking, completely soaked within seconds.
Standing in the hallway, they formed a growing puddle on the floor. Yennefer glanced at their reflection in the large mirror. They looked like a pair of water nymphs, their hair plastered to their faces, clothes clinging to their bodies, water streaming off them in small rivulets.
“Wait, I have to capture this,” she laughed, pulling out her phone. “This is one for the memories.”
She took a mirror selfie of the three of them—herself, Ciri, and Pontar, who now resembled a mini version of himself, his soaked fur sticking tightly to his body. They looked both miserable and hilarious.
Before they could react, Pontar did what every wet dog considers their sacred duty. He shook himself vigorously, sending water flying in every direction. Yennefer yelped, Ciri squealed, and the dog looked absolutely pleased with himself, despite still being drenched.
“You little monster,” Yennefer laughed, realizing that he had just sentenced them to cleaning the entire hallway. She could only hope the walls wouldn’t be permanently stained.
She glanced at her phone, noticing notifications from Triss. Opening the messages, still standing in a puddle.
'Get out of there!' the first message, sent in response to the photo of Pontar against the stormy sky. And below it, a second one. 'That photo is brilliant, you know? You have such a signature style! I told you!'
The pure joy of the compliment made Yennefer’s chest feel lighter, but instead of admitting it, she replied with sarcasm:
'Thanks. Hopefully, my exceptional framing makes up for the pneumonia we’re about to catch.'
She attached the fresh mirror selfie, adding:
'We tried to escape, but… well, it didn’t quite work out.'
“Mum, we need to change.” Ciri protested, shivering slightly.
“I know, my pretty one. You first, then me, and Pontar goes straight to the bathroom,” she said, casting a glance at the dog, who had the audacity to look innocent.
As Ciri headed for the bathroom, Yennefer quickly grabbed a roll of paper towels from the cupboard, attempting to at least soak up some water pooling on the floor. Her phone buzzed again.
'You three are TOO CUTE! Even soaked. Especially soaked. And Pontar looks like a rat who accidentally happens to be a dog.'
Yennefer smiled involuntarily. Triss always knew how to make her laugh with just a few words.
'A rat who just decided to redecorate the hallway in an abstract style, using only water and dog fur as his artistic medium. We’ll be cleaning this up for an hour. And I really hope it comes off.'
'Worth it for that photo. I swear, you should frame it.'
After a quick shower and changing into dry clothes, Yennefer tackled the task of drying Pontar, which required patience, strength, and at least three towels. Ciri helped, carefully wiping his paws and belly while Yennefer wrestled with the thick fur on his back and tail.
Outside, the storm raged in full force—lightning slashed across the sky, thunder rattled the windows, and the rain pounded the roof with such intensity it felt as though it might break through. But inside, it was warm and safe.
When they finally finished drying the dog and cleaning the hallway, Yennefer opened the fridge, contemplating what to make for dinner.
“How about pancakes?” Yennefer suggested.
“Can we make them together?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Yennefer agreed without hesitation. “Put on some music.”
And so, to the sound of Ciri’s playlist, they mixed the batter, fried pancakes, and filled them with jam, cheese, and fresh fruit. Yennefer let Ciri take the lead in the kitchen, stepping in only when disaster seemed imminent.
By the time they finally sat down to eat, the storm had quieted a little, though the rain still poured down steadily. After dinner, they sprawled out on the couch in the living room, wrapped in blankets, sipping tea, and working on their bracelets.
Ciri quickly started designing the pattern for another one. She stretched out her long legs, resting them across Yennefer’s lap, while her mother carefully worked on Triss’s bracelet, trying to make each knot perfect. Or at least as close to perfect as she could manage.
“You know, those new kids from the beach thought Pontar was some kind of special dog,” Ciri began, threading beads onto her cord. “I told them he has a super nose and can find people under an avalanche!”
Yennefer smiled, listening.
“You know that’s not exactly true?”
“I know, I was just messing with them,” Ciri grinned. “I told them I used to go hiking in the mountains with you a lot, but I like the sea better because you can swim and look for amber, and in the mountains, all you do is climb and climb, and usually, you can't even see anything because of all the trees. But I didn't tell them about the time you rescued that girl who fell into a crevasse near the Dragon's Teeth. Do you remember?”
“I remember,” Yennefer said, though she was certain Ciri had only ever heard fragments of that story and filled in the rest with her own imagination.
“And then that boy, Alex, said his dad is a firefighter and also saves people, but from fires. And that once, he even rescued a cat from a tree! Can you believe that? I thought that only happened in movies!”
Yennefer listened as Ciri wove together real events with her own embellishments, adding drama and details that definitely hadn’t been there. But instead of correcting her or questioning the story, she simply let her talk, enjoying the sound of her voice, her enthusiasm, the way her hands moved expressively with each tale.
Yennefer glanced down at her unfinished bracelet. Uneven, imperfect, but made with patience and care. A bit like her relationship with Ciri. Requiring work, sometimes messy, but full of effort and love. Then again… every relationship required that, right?
“Mum?” Ciri’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Are you even listening?”
“Of course,” Yennefer replied with a smile. “You were telling me about Alex and his firefighter dad.”
“No! That was ages ago,” Ciri laughed. “I was asking if I can invite Cerys next time we come here. Because we are coming back, right?”
Yennefer looked at her daughter.
“You already asked me that, Cirilla,” she said firmly. “I think after today’s storm, we’ll need to bring a bigger supply of towels next year. You must tell Cerys about it.”
Ciri burst out laughing and went back to her storytelling, while Yennefer continued working on the bracelet, listening to the rain tapping against the windows and the voice of her daughter filling the cozy space.
The evening after the storm was exceptionally calm. The setting sun painted the sky in deep, intense colors, and the lingering clouds made the view even more spectacular. Ciri had fallen asleep early, which Yennefer actually appreciated. It meant she had the evening to herself, just the way she liked it.
She sat on the bed in her bedroom, leaning against the headboard. There was something magical about this room. The huge bed, the sloping ceiling, the tiny lights embedded in it, creating a delicate play of light and shadow, shifting through the thin canopy fabric as the cool night breeze drifted in through the open window.
She thought about how, ever since the first evening at the seaside, she and Triss had been exchanging messages. That little game had become something Yennefer looked forward to every day. Something that made her smile, even when she was alone.
She glanced around the bedroom. This room was perfect for continuing their playful exchanges. Reaching for her phone, she considered the best way to capture its beauty. Her first idea was to take a picture from the doorway, but the evening light wasn’t great, and from that angle, the ceiling lights weren’t as visible.
Then she looked at the wardrobe with its large mirror. It reflected the bed, the sloped ceiling, and those magical twinkling lights. From that perspective, the room looked even more enchanting.
Yennefer turned on the lights and sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed, positioning herself on the left side so that as much of the room as possible would be visible in the mirror. She took a photo, carefully framing the shot to capture all the charm of this room.
She sent the photo to Triss with the caption:
‘We should have rooms like this at the station. Instead of those awful little bunk beds.’
Setting her phone aside, she picked up the book she’d been trying to read She sank into the soft bedding, smiling to herself.
Less than five minutes later, her phone vibrated.
‘Then you’d never leave your room. The room really is beautiful, but it’s hard to focus on it while looking at that photo. ;) ’
Yennefer frowned, not understanding at first. What did Triss mean? The photo was just of the room…
She looked at the picture again, this time through Triss’s eyes.
Her reflection in the mirror was just “part of the frame”, or at least, that’s what she had intended. But her white shirt stood out starkly against her dark hair and olive skin. Sitting cross-legged in the loose shirt, she looked as if she were wearing nothing else. The damp strands of her hair, the interplay of light and shadow, the soft canopy curtains, the intimate evening atmosphere of the bedroom…
She felt her cheeks heat up.
She had taken the photo focusing solely on the room, but she had accidentally sent something that could easily be interpreted as suggestive and bold?
Her heart pounded. But the most striking thing was Triss’s response. Not only had she noticed the unintended side of the picture, but she had openly pointed it out.
It’s hard to focus on the room while looking at that photo.
That wasn’t accidental. That wasn’t just an eye-roll over a friend’s mishap. That was… a compliment?
A wave of panic washed over her as she realized how it might have looked. Her fingers moved faster than her thoughts as she rushed to respond.
‘I just noticed it now, sorry. I meant the room.’
‘I see, Yennefer. Very charming room.’
Yennefer’s cheeks burned. There was no way this was a misunderstanding. Triss was doing this on purpose. And not subtly, not gently, but directly. This was all happening too fast, too intensely.
‘Delete that, Merigold.’
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Triss!’
She waited, staring at the screen. A brief moment of silence, and then:
‘Sleep well, Yen ;) ’
Yennefer fell back against the soft pillows, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. What just happened? She covered her face with her hands for a moment, suddenly feeling unbearably warm. And then it hit her—with the force and clarity of lightning striking sand into glass. The truth she'd been avoiding was suddenly crystallized, impossible to ignore.
Lying there in bed, staring up at the wooden beam above her, feeling the cool sea breeze on her skin, Yennefer took a slow, deep breath and finally allowed herself what she had been avoiding for weeks.
For the first time, she saw her feelings for Triss exactly for what they were.
She tossed her phone onto the bed, unsure if she was angry, embarrassed, or… excited. Maybe all of it at once. Her mind wandered through memories, through all the moments with Triss that now took on a new meaning. Glances that lasted a second too long. Accidental touches that made it impossible to focus on anything else. And then further, deeper, into the past.
She wasn’t sure if Triss had meant the photo… or something much deeper.
Was it possible that all these years, she hadn't noticed how much women drew her in? How deeply they stirred her emotions? She had always noticed their beauty. But wasn't that normal? Women are beautiful.
She should feel strange about this, right? She should be terrified or disgusted?
But she wasn't.
How had she never seen this before? How? That question hurt, and it frustrated her. She had lived with Philippa during university—Philippa, who brought girls home… often. Yennefer had always shut it out, never paid attention, never let herself pay attention. She had Geralt.
Exactly. She had Geralt. She got pregnant quickly, and that was that… she never had time to wonder if she preferred men or women.
She wanted children. To do that, she needed a man. It was logical. It was her only option.
But… is love logical?
Her relationships had always been incomplete, always with a strange emptiness. She had been sure it was her. That she was incapable of love, of emotional attachment, of wanting someone in that way. But what if it was never her fault?
She couldn’t understand how she had been blind to it for so long. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. But looking back at her life through this lens, suddenly, everything made sense.
Every single puzzle piece fell into place, forming a perfect picture.
She knew she wouldn’t come up with anything on her own, so she reached for her phone. Opening the browser, she hesitated for a moment before typing:
'how to tell if your friend is really flirting with you'
The list of results was so long that Yennefer flinched. Dozens, hundreds of similar questions on various forums. She was shocked at how many women were going through the same kind of confusion. She clicked on one of the threads.
'My best friend keeps doing things that seem like flirting…'
'How to tell the difference between friendly closeness and love?'
'Is it normal for a friend to comment on my looks like this?'
'Why I am so jealous of my friend'?
She read post after post, comment after comment, and her heart pounded faster with every word. One thing kept coming up in the replies: panic and avoidance in response to flirting is almost an admission that you see it as something more than friendship.
Is that what she had just done? Had her reaction been an open confession?
She put her phone down, shoving it deep under her pillow, then reached for the light switch and turned off the small bedside lamps. She lay there, staring at the dark ceiling. The cooler air was perfect.
Was Triss testing her?
No.
Triss liked to flirt playfully. She had always done that, but what if this wasn’t playful? What if she understood Yennefer’s panicked reaction? And if she did understand, then what now?
Yennefer rolled onto her side, clutching the blanket to her chest. She didn’t know what to do with any of this. She didn’t want to risk it.
This friendship was special, the best she had ever had. She couldn’t ruin it.
It was supposed to be just a picture of the room, another part of their little game. An innocent exchange, right? She just wanted a reason to talk to Triss.
That was a good reason. She just wanted to stay in touch.
But was that already too much?
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep. But sleep didn’t come easily this time. And this time, it didn’t bring rest.
Instead, she slipped into dreams of red hair, freckles, and lips that spoke her name in a way no one else ever had. She dreamed of Triss. She dreamed of her smile, of her hands, of her body pressed against her own. Of kisses that had never happened, of touches she had never experienced.
In the dream, there was no fear. No hesitation.
Only pure, unwavering desire and the need to be as close as possible.
When Yennefer woke up the next morning as the sun was beginning to rise, she felt as if she'd barely slept. Her dreams had been filled with images that now, in the first light of day, brought a flush to her cheeks and a strange, pleasant sensation deep in her stomach. She sat up in bed, running her fingers through her tousled hair. That dream about Triss… it had been so vivid, so intense. Though it had faded upon waking, it left behind a tension she could still feel in every cell of her body. She knew something had irreversibly changed.
She glanced at her phone lying on the nightstand. Just the thought of that photo, of how it had been perceived, made her feel exposed.
She needed to get through the day without thinking constantly about Triss. She needed distractions, something to do.
“Ciri!” she called, stepping into her daughter's room half an hour later, already showered and finished with breakfast. “Get up. We have plans today.”
Ciri groaned, pulling the blanket over her head.
“Five more minutes…”
“Nope.” Yennefer yanked the blanket away in one swift motion. “Today, we're leaving Pontar at home and going on an excursion. The lighthouse, the cliffs… maybe you'll find even more amber.”
That last part worked. Ciri cracked one eye open.
“Amber?”
“Apparently, more of it washes up after a storm.” Yennefer shrugged, feigning indifference, though she knew exactly how much Ciri wanted to collect as many pieces as possible. “But if you'd rather sleep…”
“No, I'm getting up!” Ciri sat up instantly, now completely awake. “Give me ten minutes!”
Yennefer smiled, leaving the room. The plan had worked. They had a mission for the day, something to keep their minds and energy occupied.
They secured the house before leaving, making sure Pontar had plenty of food and water. The dog seemed quite content with a lazy day alone, recovering from the previous day's storm.
“We'll be back in a few hours,” Yennefer said, scratching behind his ears. “Don't destroy the house.”
He gave her a look of mock innocence in return.
The day was perfect for an excursion—bright but not too hot, with a few clouds drifting lazily across the sky. They set out first for the lighthouse, which towered over the area atop a high cliff. The spiral staircase leading to the top was exhausting, but the view from the observation deck took their breath away: the endless expanse of sea, the coastline stretching far into the distance, small houses scattered along the shore, and their beach visible far below.
“Can you see our house?” Ciri asked, pointing toward the familiar grove.
“I think so,” Yennefer replied, though she wasn't entirely sure which of the many similar-looking houses was theirs.
As they stood there, leaning against the railing, surrounded by groups of other tourists, Yennefer noticed something. Her gaze drifted from one person to another.
A young woman in a summer dress, her long, blonde hair tousled by the wind.
A pair of men, fit, wearing tight T-shirts, clearly enjoying the attention they were getting.
An elderly couple, holding hands like teenagers. She caught herself analyzing her own reactions.
The young woman—her eyes lingered longer, noticing the curve of her neck, the way sunlight caught in her hair.
The men—objectively attractive, well-built, but stirring nothing in her beyond a sense of aesthetic appreciation. Like looking at a sculpture. You could admire its beauty without feeling desire.
“Mom, look!” Ciri pointed excitedly toward the distance. “There's a pier over there! Can we go?”
Yennefer followed her daughter's gaze. A wooden pier stretched into the sea, its weathered planks extending far into the azure water. The structure looked inviting against the backdrop of the endless horizon.
“Of course,” she nodded.
An hour later, they were walking along the wooden pier. The gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed, ruffling their hair and cooling their sun-warmed skin. Yennefer breathed deeply, letting the fresh air fill her lungs.
“Look how clear the water is,” Ciri observed, leaning over the railing. “I can see fish!”
Yennefer joined her, resting her arms on the sun-warmed wood. Below them, small silver fish darted through the crystal water, catching the light as they moved.
After exploring the pier, they wandered to the nearby beach. Unlike their secluded spot near the cottage, this one was more popular, dotted with colorful towels and umbrellas. Yet, the atmosphere remained peaceful, with the gentle murmur of conversations mingling with the rhythm of the waves.
“Mom!” Ciri called, already crouched on the damp sand where the waves receded. “There are so many amber pieces here!”
Soon they were both combing the shoreline, eyes trained on the wet sand. The thrill of the hunt was contagious, and Yennefer found herself just as excited as Ciri each time they spotted the distinctive honey-colored stones among the sand.
“Look at this one,” Yennefer said, holding up a particularly beautiful piece that glowed amber-gold in the sunlight.
“I found three more!” Ciri announced triumphantly, displaying her treasures. “This beach is magical!”
Eventually, Yennefer gathered their finds in her palm and took a photo—the amber pieces glowing against her skin, with the sea and beach stretching behind.
As she checked the result, a movement caught her eye. A seagull had landed on a piece of driftwood nearby, watching them with unexpected boldness. It was beautiful—pristine white feathers contrasting with its yellow beak and alert eyes.
“That bird is staring at us,” Ciri whispered, following her gaze.
“I think it's wondering if we have snacks,” Yennefer replied, slowly raising her phone to capture the bird.
The seagull remained unperturbed, posing almost regally on its wooden perch. Yennefer took several photos, captivated by the bird's fearless presence.
Her finger hovered over the message icon, instinctively wanting to send the photos to Triss. But the memory of last night's exchange flashed in her mind, and she hesitated.
Would these innocent beach photos now be viewed through the lens of that one bedroom image? Had something fundamentally shifted in their exchanges?
She opted for Instagram instead. Safer. More public. Less intimate.
A few minutes after posting, a notification appeared. Triss had liked her story.
'That seagull looks like it's posing for a professional photoshoot!'
No mention of last night. No teasing. No flirting.
Yennefer felt both relief and a strange, hollow disappointment. She replied with a brief message about their day, keeping it light and friendly.
Normal. Safe. Like nothing had changed.
Even as everything had.
When they arrived home, Pontar greeted them enthusiastically, as if their few hours' absence had been a year. Ciri immediately set to work arranging her finds on the table, creating a mini-exhibition of treasures.
As Yennefer prepared dinner, Ciri excitedly narrated the story of each piece of amber and every unique stone to Pontar, as if he could truly understand and share in her emotions.
The evening settled into peaceful quiet, just like the ones before…
But this time, something inside her felt different.
A subtle tension lingered—thoughts of Triss, of that dream, of the photo, and of her emotions… emotions whose nature was becoming increasingly clear.
They had two days left by the sea, and Yennefer was determined to make the most of them. She and Ciri planned out each day. Beach time, sightseeing, coastal hikes, and even a trip to a loud, chaotic amusement park full of screaming children.
Yennefer still allowed herself moments of spontaneity. She felt like Ciri was her younger sister rather than her daughter. They played together, laughed together, shared secrets.
She allowed herself these moments not just because she needed them, but because she hadn't seen Ciri this happy in a long time. Her daughter radiated joy, her laughter rang louder than the crashing waves, and every night she fell asleep with a smile, exhausted but content.
In those moments, Yennefer set aside her dilemmas, fears, and uncertainties. These three final days belonged to her and Ciri. Their own private adventure, a time to create memories that would last long after the vacation ended.
The final evening wrapped the beach in velvety darkness. The sky above them was dotted with stars—brighter, sharper than in the city. A silver path of moonlight shimmered on the surface of the sea, leading nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
Yennefer sat on the warm sand, feeling it beneath her bare feet, with Ciri curled up against her side. Both were wrapped in a blanket they had brought from the cottage. Pontar lay beside them, eyes closed but still alert.
“Mom?” Ciri's voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
“Yes?”
“This has been the best vacation of my entire life.”
Yennefer wrapped an arm around her daughter, pulling her closer. A sudden tightness formed in her throat, a wave of emotion she didn’t try to hide.
“For me too, my pretty one.”
For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the steady rhythm of the waves. The dark sea stretched endlessly, merging with the night sky on the horizon.
“Can we do something to make things this good more often?” Ciri asked, still nestled against her.
“Yes,” Yennefer replied without hesitation. “I’ve decided that after my daytime shifts, I’ll turn off my phone, and we’ll go somewhere… just the two of us. Maybe Pontar too.”
“Really?” Ciri pulled away slightly to search her eyes, as if making sure this wasn’t just an empty promise.
“Really,” Yennefer nodded. “No negotiations. That time will be just for us. I know it’s not much, but maybe it’s a good start?”
Ciri murmured in agreement, pleased with the answer, and snuggled in even closer.
For the next few minutes, they talked about more practical matters. The time they’d leave the next morning, the last places they wanted to see, the last souvenirs they wanted to buy.
When they finally returned to the house, Ciri was so exhausted that she barely managed to take a shower and change into pajamas before falling into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, Yennefer began packing their things. Tomorrow, they were going home. Back to reality.
Back to Triss.
At the very thought, a knot tightened in her stomach, a mixture of excitement and fear.
These days by the sea had given her the space to see things she hadn’t noticed before—or, more likely, had been ignoring for years.
She knelt by her suitcase, pulling out a small box where she kept the macramés for Triss. She unwrapped them carefully. They were just as she remembered—subtle, beautiful, with a natural piece of driftwood shaped by nature into something absolutely unique.
She ran her fingers over the knotted threads, imagining how Triss would react to the gift. The smile that would light up her eyes. Maybe a hug, her arms wrapping around Yennefer’s neck… And then what?
She turned, catching her own reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She stared at herself, at her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, at the intensity in her gaze, at the tension visible in the line of her lips.
She was looking at a woman who had just discovered something fundamental about herself. Something that had always been there. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what could be. What it would feel like to give in to those emotions, to follow the desire that had been growing inside her day by day.
It could be beautiful. Triss in her arms. Her lips against hers. That closeness she craved.
But then, another vision pushed its way in. Triss’s face twisted in pain, as Yennefer realized it was a mistake. If it turned out to be just a fleeting fascination, a moment of weakness that would pass… what then? She’d break her heart.
Triss, who had already once felt like she wasn’t enough, wasn’t loved, would go through it all over again. This time because of her. And this time, it would hurt even more.
That thought shook her to the core.
She remembered Triss, broken in the mountains, after her breakup with Philippa. She couldn't do that to her. She wouldn't.
She carefully packed the macramés back into the box. Then, she reached for the bracelet she had spent way too long making. It was crooked, uneven at the beginning, but the progress was visible. The final knots were much neater than the first ones.
A friendship bracelet.
Friendship.
That word hurt. Almost physically. A sharp, aching pressure in her chest.
But it had to be this way. Too much was at stake. Too much to lose.
She was a rescuer. She knew when it was time to let go, even if it wasn’t what she wanted. She was rational. Cautious.
And completely terrified.
She had her chance, back in high school, in college. Time for experimentation, for self-discovery. But she had never taken it. She had always chosen the safe path.
And now? Now, it was too late. She was in her thirties. A mother. She had a settled life. This wasn’t the time for such adventures.
For a brief second, a ridiculous thought crossed her mind. Maybe she could test her discovery with someone else? Some other woman. Someone anonymous, safe.
She grimaced at her own reflection, disgusted by the idea. It felt wrong. So wrong. She didn’t want anyone else.
Only Triss.
But she couldn’t hurt her. She would be the best friend Triss could ever have.
Her lips pressed together. She bit her lip slightly.
She finished packing, organizing her belongings methodically, stacking everything into perfectly arranged piles—clothes, books, souvenirs.
Her plan was difficult, but it was the only choice she has.
Tomorrow, they were going home and from tomorrow, everything would be different. She would act normal. Be the friend she had always been. Bury these feelings until they weren’t so strong anymore. Until, maybe, they disappeared completely.
She slipped under the covers, switching off the light. The canopy above her swayed gently in the soft breeze coming through the slightly open window. For a moment, she glanced at her phone, debating whether to text Triss.
But what would she even say?
“I just realized that I’ve probably been attracted to women my whole life, and now I think I have feelings for you, but we can’t be together because I’m afraid of hurting you.”
She set the phone aside, her gaze falling on the bracelet she had made for Triss, lying atop her suitcase.
A symbol of friendship. A friendship she was determined to protect at all costs.
Even if the cost was her own heart.
Chapter 16
Notes:
Yennefer came home from the beach straight into emotional chaos. Mountains don’t forgive... but you don’t have to worry about that. You just get comfy and read 💜
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Monday, August 26, 8:50 a.m.
Yennefer's house, Zamirath
There was something deeply satisfying about returning to her own kitchen after several days away. Yennefer moved comfortably through the familiar space, clearing away breakfast dishes with practiced efficiency. Despite the emotional complexity that had followed her home from vacation, the simple routine of domestic life already felt like a… well, home.
Yennefer was rinsing a plate when she heard the sound of a car pulling up. She glanced out the window. It was Geralt, as punctual as ever. He had come to pick up Ciri, just as they had arranged last night after their return.
“Ciri, your dad's here!” she called out, drying her hands.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs—still far too heavy for a teenager. Ciri was ready to go, practically flying down the steps. Where did kids get all this energy? They had barely unpacked, yet here was Geralt taking her on a two-day trip to the mountains. He was making it up to her for a failed vacation, dedicating his hard-won time off to his daughter. They planned to stay at a mountain lodge and explore the higher trails of the Kestrel Mountains. For Ciri, the promise of another adventure and squeezing the last drops of fun from summer was too tempting to resist. She could rest later.
“Do I have everything?” Ciri stopped in the hallway, loaded down with a bag and a backpack, looking at her expectantly.
“Did you check the list we made?” Yennefer stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.
“I think so… First-aid kit and good shoes are definitely in there,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around Yennefer's waist.
“That's the most important part. Well, aside from having fun.”
“Come on, we don't want Dad to wait.”
Yennefer walked her to the door, exchanged a few words with Geralt, and reminded them—again—to stick to the trails and not try to be heroes. They listened, shaking their heads and smirking to themselves. They knew the safety lecture was a non-negotiable part of every trip. Finally, she hugged Ciri one last time and waved them off, standing outside until the car disappeared beyond the gate.
Yennefer stepped inside, glancing around the kitchen and living room before peeking into Ciri's room. Evidence of hasty packing was everywhere—one trip had ended only for another to begin. On the desk lay seashells and pieces of amber Ciri had collected from the coast.
Monday. Cleaning day.
She opened the terrace door to let in the cool air and turned on some music—perhaps a bit too loud, but she needed to clear her head and maybe even sing along. Starting with laundry, she loaded the washing machine with beach towels and summer clothes that still held the scent of salt. She looked around and felt a strange kind of disappointment. The house was already too clean after the pre-trip frenzy, and aside from a bit of laundry and some lingering sand to vacuum, there wasn’t much left to do.
For a moment, she stared out the bathroom window at the fields behind the house. Some had already been harvested; the season was nearly over. Just beyond the fence, tall cornstalks still stood, and she knew they would stay for a while longer. She liked that view. The corn formed a natural barrier, shielding her from the outside world.
She felt like going for a run. Pontar probably did too.
She changed quickly, pulling on a light zip-up hoodie with a pocket deep enough for her phone and earbuds. The moment Pontar saw her in running gear, he knew what was coming—spinning in circles, whining with excitement. She smiled, locked the house, and they slipped out through the back gate onto the dirt road. She loved running here. Packed earth, soft and natural, easy on her knees. Asphalt had always been harder on her. Pontar darted through the stubble fields, stopping often, nose pressed to the ground, tracking tiny field creatures scurrying beneath the soil. Sometimes, he disappeared into the corn, and all she could see were the shifting stalks betraying his movements. They both relished the run—the space, the quiet, the sense of freedom.
When she got back, she ordered lunch and thought about meeting with Triss. She wanted to, but figuring out how to make it seem casual felt like a task in itself. She leaned against the kitchen counter, tired, fingers hovering over her phone's keyboard.
What should she say? How to phrase it so it sounded effortless, natural?
‘Hey, want to meet tomorrow in town? I've got something for you.’
She hit send before she could overthink it, then set the phone face down on the counter and went to take a cold shower.
A reply came before long.
‘Hi, I can't tomorrow, sorry. But Wednesday? I'm free after noon.’
Yennefer checked the weather. Rain on Wednesday. Not exactly great for a day out. She'd wanted to keep things casual, away from the house, but then again… Ciri would be back by then. With Ciri, things would feel normal.
‘Wednesday works. Want to come over? It's supposed to rain, and I'm guessing Ciri will have had her fill of adventure by then.’
‘Sounds good! I'll stop by after lunch and bring cupcakes. See you then!’
It had come together smoothly, naturally. Yennefer smiled at her phone. Wednesday. She had one more day than she'd planned. Enough time to get ready.
Time, as always, had mocked her plans. Before she knew it, the middle of the week had arrived, and she didn't feel even a little more prepared.
The rain had started before noon. A light, barely noticeable drizzle, but enough to clear the streets of both people and animals. The sky hung low and gray over the city, the air warm and damp. Yennefer fidgeted by the window, glancing at the clock every few moments. Triss would be here any minute.
Ciri sat on the couch, flipping through vacation photos on her tablet. Yennefer cast a quick look at herself, adjusting her shirt. High-waisted light-wash jeans, a loose black blouse with a cut-out neckline, and decorative laces. Her hair was down. She'd made sure her curls looked effortlessly perfect today. Then she glanced at Ciri, wondering if her daughter could sense her tension. Probably not, she was too excited about showing Triss all the little treasures she'd collected and recounting every detail of their trip.
The sound of tires crunching on the driveway pulled her out of her thoughts.
Pontar bolted from his spot, tail wagging, so enthusiastically his entire back end swayed with it. Ciri sprang up from the couch just as fast.
“I'll get it!” she called out, beating everyone to the door.
Yennefer took a deep breath. Stay calm, she told herself. It's just Triss.
Ciri flung the door open, letting in a rush of crisp, fresh air. She greeted Triss warmly and stepped aside to let her in. Triss walked in, holding a book high above her head like a trophy.
“This time, I remembered!” she declared theatrically, while her other hand clutching a large tote bag that she set down on the floor.
“I have something for you!” Ciri beamed before dashing upstairs.
“Hey,” Yennefer said, feeling a genuine smile tug at her lips before she could stop it.
“It's so good to see you,” Triss said, slipping off her coat before stepping closer and pulling her into a hug. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Yennefer murmured, realizing how much harder it would be to keep this—just friendship—in a safe, manageable place with Triss so close. In moments like this, it didn't feel manageable at all. Her scent enveloped Yennefer, warm and familiar, stirring memories of a dream that had haunted her since their vacation. A dream she'd tried so hard to forget.
“I should warn you,” Yennefer said as they pulled apart. “Ciri has an entire presentation prepared about our trip. Once she starts talking, I'm afraid she might not stop until morning.”
“Perfect, that's exactly what I was hoping for,” Triss laughed.
Suddenly, Pontar nudged her hand firmly with his nose, letting out a sound that clearly demanded attention. Triss chuckled, crouching down to pet him.
“I missed you too, you big plush bear,” she said warmly, scratching behind his ears. Yennefer smiled at the sight. Then, hearing Ciri's quick footsteps racing toward the stairs, she asked swiftly,
“Coffee? Or would you like something else?”
“Coffee sounds perfect,” Triss replied, still focused on giving Pontar the attention he clearly thought he deserved.
Yennefer nodded and slipped away into the kitchen, listening as Ciri bounded down the stairs and immediately launched into a full recap of her adventures.
In the kitchen, Yennefer busied herself with making the coffee, forcing herself to focus on the simple task. She needed these last few moments to gather herself. She watched as the dark liquid filled the mug, its rich aroma curling through the air.
She placed the coffee mugs on a tray, added a plate of cookies, and returned to the living room.
Ciri was sitting on the floor, spreading out her treasures before Triss: pieces of amber, seashells, and oddly shaped stones. Triss sat beside her, Pontar's head resting comfortably on her lap. It was the most natural thing in the world.
“…And that's when I found the biggest one! See? That dark one? It was buried in the sand and I almost missed it, but then the sun hit it just right, and it sparkled like…”
Ciri didn't pause her story for even a second. Triss listened with genuine interest. Yennefer set the tray down on the table and sat cross-legged on the other side of the dog. Close to Triss, but not too close. Just within a safe distance. Though sitting on the floor like this felt oddly intimate.
“They look fantastic,” Triss said to Ciri, picking up a piece of amber. “This one even has a bit of a plant trapped inside! See?”
Ciri nodded enthusiastically and was already handing her something else.
“This was the best trip ever,” she declared firmly. “Did you see our photos? I have to show you!”
Before anyone could answer, Ciri was already grabbing her tablet, swiping through the images. “Look, here's our cabin… And this was the beach! It was almost empty, we could do whatever we wanted… And this is Pontar after the storm, he looked like a drowned rat… Oh, and here's Mom on the beach, she looks like a mermaid.”
Yennefer nearly choked on her coffee at that last part.
“A mermaid?” Triss raised an amused eyebrow, throwing Yennefer a teasing look.
Ciri giggled, scrolling faster. “Did you see the sunset one? Mom sent it to you, right? And here's the storm that caught us… And here…”
Yennefer watched as her daughter eagerly shared every moment with Triss, holding nothing back. And Triss was completely engaged—not just nodding along absentmindedly. She asked questions, laughed at the right moments, always adding something to the conversation.
For nearly an hour, Ciri kept Triss completely captivated, giving her no chance to escape the endless stream of vacation stories. Yennefer sat quietly beside them, occasionally adding a comment or correcting some of Ciri's more embellished versions of events.
Then Ciri's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and immediately jumped to her feet.
“It's Cerys!” she announced, suddenly buzzing with excitement. “I have to talk to her, it's important!”
And just like that, with the usual fickle attention span of a child, she was gone. Rushing upstairs and leaving Yennefer and Triss alone in the middle of the scattered vacation souvenirs on the floor.
Yennefer reached for a cookie, just to have something to do with her hands. She could feel her heartbeat quicken. Without Ciri's endless chatter, the shift in atmosphere was sudden.
“So, how do you feel after vacation?” Triss asked, breaking the silence. She leaned back against the couch, stretching out her legs. She looked completely at ease. “Rested? Ready to continue squeezing into cave crevices to rescue irresponsible tourists?”
“Yeah,” Yennefer exhaled with a quiet laugh, grateful for the lighthearted topic and this soft joke. “Honestly, I didn't expect this trip to be so… good.”
“I envy you two,” Triss said. “From the way Ciri talks about it, the trip sounds truly amazing.”
“It was perfect,” Yennefer admitted suddenly. “I just hope I managed to fix things a little with Ciri while we were away. We needed that time... just the two of us.”
“Fix things?” she looked at her, surprised. “Why? Aren’t you two the best team I know?”
“We had a pretty bad fight right before the trip,” Yennefer confessed.
“What happened?”
“Me. I happened.” Yennefer shook her head. “I’m… not the best at certain things.”
“Don’t say that,” Triss interrupted gently, reaching out to touch her arm.
“It's true,” Yennefer sighed, setting her empty cup down on the table. “Ciri told me she lives in constant fear that at any moment, I'll get a call and leave for a rescue call. I didn't realize how much it was affecting her.”
She looked up and met Triss's gaze. She didn't need to explain further. Triss always understood.
“So I decided that one weekend a month will be just for her. No calls. No work.”
“That's a beautiful thing to do,” Triss said softly, warmth and admiration shining in her eyes. “Not many people would be that honest with themselves.”
“I still feel like it's not enough,” Yennefer admitted.
Triss shook her head, her expression gentle, free of any judgment.
“Ciri doesn't need perfect. She needs to know you're trying. That you see her. That you listen.”
“I do listen, but I don't always understand her reactions,” Yennefer admitted quietly. “They don't make sense to me.”
“Emotions rarely do, Yennefer.” Triss's fingers brushed her arm again, and this time, Yennefer let herself lean in, just slightly, requiring that small point of contact.
“But that's what makes them special,” Triss continued. “And you—you're trying to understand her, even when it's hard for you. Neither of you has to be perfect. Love isn't perfect. That's what makes it beautiful.”
Yennefer lifted her gaze, meeting Triss's eyes. There was no judgment there—just warmth, quiet understanding. Something tightened in her chest, a feeling both wonderful and terrifying.
“We should probably get to those cupcakes,” Yennefer said at last, her voice a little too casual, even though a part of her didn't want to break the moment.
“Right,” Triss nodded, standing up from the floor.
They left behind Ciri's mess of treasures and took only their empty coffee cups. Yennefer set hers down far on the counter, then took Triss's cup from her hands.
“Make yourself at home,” Yennefer said, opening one of the cabinets. “You still remember where everything is, right?”
“More or less,” Triss replied, rolling up her sleeves. “But you're the one in charge here, just tell me what to do.”
A shiver ran down Yennefer's spine at those simple words. Then suddenly, she remembered something.
“Actually... I have something for you,” she said, turning toward Triss. “Before we make a mess of this kitchen. Wait here.”
Yennefer disappeared into the hallway for a moment, leaving a slightly confused Triss behind in the kitchen. When she returned, she was holding a small, elegant gift bag.
“This is for you. From our trip,” she added, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar shyness that rarely touched her.
Triss looked at her in surprise, as if she hadn't expected the gesture at all.
“I thought you were joking about bringing me a gift,” she said, taking the bag from Yennefer's hands.
“I never joke about important matters,” Yennefer replied, leaning against the counter, doing her best to appear casual—even though her heart was beating faster.
Triss carefully pulled out the first item: a delicate macramé wall hanging on a piece of dark wood.
“It's beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingers over the intricate knots. “It'll fit my apartment perfectly.”
“That's what I thought,” Yennefer admitted, watching her reaction. “Natural and beautiful.”
Triss lifted her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, something sparked in her eyes—something that made Yennefer forget to breathe.
“Thank you,” Triss said softly. “This is… special.”
“There's more,” Yennefer added, nodding toward the bag.
Triss peeked inside and pulled out a small, colorful string bracelet.
“Ciri taught me… she was making one for Cerys,” Yennefer explained briefly. “You don't have to wear it, Triss. It's just…”
“It's beautiful. I love things like this,” Triss interrupted, immediately wrapping it around her wrist, trying to loop one of the braided ends through the tiny knot.
“Need help?” Yennefer asked, watching her closely.
“Yes, please.” Triss held out her wrist toward her.
Yennefer took her delicate wrist in her hands, doing her best to ignore the warmth of her skin beneath her fingers. She tied the bracelet swiftly and precisely, though she couldn't ignore the slight tremor in her own hands.
“All set,” she said, letting go of her hand far sooner than she wanted to.
“Thank you,” Triss murmured again before they turned their attention to baking.
For the next few minutes, they set up their workspace—bowls, spoons, a mixer, muffin trays. Triss unpacked the ingredients from her bag: flour, sugar, chocolate, and bananas. Yennefer preheated the oven, setting the temperature.
They worked side by side, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Light remarks, small jokes, everything easy and natural. And yet, Yennefer couldn't shake the feeling that something hung in the air between them.
Triss was close. Too close. It felt like every other moment, she brushed against Yennefer's arm, nudged her with her hip, leaned over to grab something from the counter, and her red hair would graze Yennefer's skin.
Every time Triss touched her, even accidentally, she felt it—like tiny lightning strikes cascading through her body, not painful but electrifying, stirring something deep within her.
She didn't mind. Not at all.
When she reached for a small bowl on the upper shelf, instead of simply stretching past Triss, she placed her hand between her shoulder blades—steadying herself. Or at least, that's what she told herself. She felt the warmth of her body, the softness of the fabric, and the way Triss's breath caught for just a second.
Triss turned her head, and their eyes met. And Yennefer saw something that made her exhale. Just for a fraction of a second.
A blush.
Triss was blushing.
Then, just as suddenly as she had touched her, she pulled away.
“I'm sorry,” she murmured, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was apologizing for.
Triss looked at her with surprise and something else. Disappointment? Frustration?
“For what?” she asked, just as softly.
Yennefer hesitated. For what? For touching her? For the fact that she had touched her? Or for stopping?
“I don't know,” she admitted at last, reaching for the bowl. Though by now, she wasn't even sure why she had wanted it in the first place.
For a moment, they stood too close, caught in the space between words and silence, between movement and stillness.
Triss didn't pull away. She didn't step back or look away. She just waited—patient, as always. So infuriatingly perfect, Yennefer thought, wondering how anyone could maintain such composure when her heart was racing.
“Why did you want to make cupcakes here?”
Ciri's voice rang out from the kitchen doorway, startling Yennefer out of her thoughts. The girl stood there, phone in hand, looking like she had just finished her call with Cerys. Triss glanced up from the countertop, smiling.
“I was going to make them at home, but I kept getting calls from the paper. At some point, I seriously considered throwing my phone out the window.”
“Shame about the phone,” Ciri noted, stepping closer.
“Shame about the photos I have on it!” Triss laughed, winking at her.
Yennefer tensed ever so slightly at the mention of photos. That photo. From the trip. The one taken in the bedroom, her reflection caught in the mirror.
“You could've just bought cupcakes,” Ciri pointed out, her voice carrying the perfect neutrality only a teenager could master when stating the obvious.
“I could have,” Triss agreed. “But I can make excellent ones. Ask your mom.”
“Seriously?” Ciri shot Yennefer a skeptical look.
“Seriously,” Yennefer confirmed, forcing herself to shake off her thoughts.
“Can I help?” Ciri asked after a moment, a rare hesitation in her voice.
“Of course!” Triss answered enthusiastically. “How about this, you help with the first batch, and then you make the second one yourself?”
“Yes! Can I chop the chocolate?”
“Sure, just be careful with your fingers. And don't make the pieces too small. I have a feeling everyone here has a sweet tooth.”
“Mom would never admit it,” Ciri teased.
Yennefer just scoffed, squeezing between Ciri and Triss to grab a piece of chocolate. But before she could pop it into her mouth, Triss nudged her in the side with her elbow.
“Ow. Triss, control yourself,” Yennefer muttered.
“Stop stealing ingredients.”
“And what if I don't?” The words slipped out before she could think.
Ciri laughed, amused by their exchange. But Triss said nothing. They just stared at each other, stretching the moment between them. Triss was the first to let go of it, turning back to the batter.
“Anything I can do to help?” Yennefer asked after a moment, finding her voice again.
“You can chop the bananas into small cubes,” Triss said, holding back a smile.
Ciri, however, did not hold back—she burst into laughter.
“Ciri, please don't spit on the chocolate,” Yennefer said, glancing around confused. “What's so funny about… bananas?”
That only made them both laugh harder.
“It's a kid's task, Mom,” Ciri explained, grinning.
“Then hand over the chocolate, and you take the bananas.”
“Nope. Triss said I get to chop the chocolate, so I'm chopping the chocolate.”
“Did she also give you permission to sneak bites? And since when do you follow instructions so easily?” Yennefer asked, eyeing her daughter, who usually negotiated everything but now seemed perfectly content to follow Triss's lead.
“You're already stealing pieces! The chocolate is mine.”
Yennefer sighed dramatically and took up the banana-chopping task, standing next to Ciri while still sneaking bits of chocolate when she thought no one was looking. Every so often, she glanced at Triss and Ciri, noticing how naturally they worked together.
The air no longer held that familiar scent of raspberries—the one that always clung to Triss. Now, it smelled of bananas, chocolate, and vanilla. It was warmer, more comforting. More like home.
Ciri chatted about her latest conversations with Cerys, Triss shared the latest news from the big world, and Yennefer let herself simply enjoy the moment.
Time passed, and when the first batch of cupcakes was in the oven, Ciri moved on to the second. As promised, Triss let her mix the batter from scratch, only stepping in to help measure ingredients. Yennefer, meanwhile, faded into the background, quietly observing.
When the oven timer beeped, she carefully pulled out the first batch, setting them to cool on the counter. Ciri and Triss slid the second tray inside before turning their attention to making colorful frosting and picking out sprinkles.
Yennefer watched them, leaning over the cupcakes, laughing, whispering conspiratorially, occasionally throwing her a glance as if they were plotting something.
And that's when she knew.
This battle had been lost before it even started.
Her carefully thought-out plan—to be just friends—had been doomed from the beginning. Every strategy fell apart in Triss's presence.
She wasn't good at pretending. Or rather, she was—but not here, not in this kitchen, not in this space that felt too real.
Not surrounded by the scent of vanilla and the warmth of something that felt dangerously close to home—to her vision of an ideal home filled with harmony, peace, and something more, something she hadn't dared to name.
Not when she could see how effortlessly Triss fit into her life, into Ciri's. Maybe later, she would come up with a new plan. A better one.
Or maybe… she should just let herself be.
“Mom, try this,” Ciri said, pushing a cupcake under her nose, decorated with delicate purple flowers. “Triss says we have to make sure they're sweet enough.”
Yennefer took a bite without protest, doing her best to ignore the way Triss was watching her, smiling that same damn smile.
“Hmm… maybe a little too sweet,” she mused, swallowing. “Which means they're perfect.”
And for the first time in a long time, she truly meant it.
Everything in this moment was perfect.
Yennefer closed the door behind Triss, leaning against it with a quiet sigh.
It had been hours since that first hug, yet she could still detect the faint scent of raspberries lingering in the hallway where they'd embraced. But it wasn't just the scent—it was the feeling of that closeness, that warmth she had not only needed but now, more disturbingly, wanted. Craved, even.
Upstairs, Ciri was already asleep, exhausted from a day filled with excitement and far too many cupcakes.
A sudden wave of giddiness washed over her. She smiled to herself, unable to stop the feeling of lightness bubbling inside her. It had gone better than she expected—natural, as if Triss had always belonged here, between her and Ciri, in their home.
The memory of Triss's flushed cheeks when Yennefer touched her back sent a fresh heat to her own face. She walked into the kitchen and absentmindedly started washing the last of the dishes, even though most of them were already clean.
And then, just as suddenly as the euphoria had come—panic followed.
What if she was wrong? What if Triss didn't feel the same? And even if she did—then what? How would she explain it to Ciri? To their friends?
She turned off the water a little too sharply. “What am I doing?” she whispered into the empty kitchen.
She pulled herself away from the sink and made her way upstairs. Peeking into Ciri's room, she found her daughter fast asleep, peaceful, and safe.
That sight had always calmed her. But tonight, it didn't bring the comfort she expected. Because that was the real issue, wasn't it? Safety. Not just her own, but Ciri's. Triss's. Taking risks for herself had always been easy. But when it came to the people she loved?
Loved.
The word struck her thoughts so suddenly that she held her breath. Was that possible? She shook her head, as if the motion could chase away the thought.
Too soon.
Too fast.
The days after Triss's visit melted together in a blur of back-to-school preparations and persistent rain. Yet somehow, the pressure Yennefer had felt before Wednesday had lightened. That afternoon with Triss—which had stretched well into evening—had left something softer inside her. Conflicted thoughts still swirled, but they seemed easier to carry now.
She had stopped dissecting every word, every gesture. She just felt. And surprisingly, that was simpler.
They spent hours hunting through bookstores and supply shops for Ciri's school materials. To Yennefer's delight, her daughter actually looked forward to returning—eager to reunite with Cerys and Iola after the summer break. School itself wasn't a source of stress; Yennefer had never been the type of parent to pressure about grades.
By Saturday, they had everything organized—backpack packed, clothes laid out, all items checked twice. With Yennefer starting her week of shifts on Sunday, Geralt would be taking Ciri to her first day on Monday. As they pulled up to his house that afternoon, Yennefer glanced at the neatly ironed white shirt and black dress pants folded on the backseat. Beside the clothes sat the carefully chosen notebooks, pens, and a brand-new pencil case—the result of an hour-long deliberation that had tested even Yennefer's patience.
Before she could even step out of the car, Ciri had already jumped out, grabbing her new backpack and waving at Geralt, who stood waiting by the door.
“Hey,” Yennefer greeted as she shut the car door, carrying the rest of Ciri's things.
“You have to stay for dinner,” Geralt called out, ushering her inside.
She hadn't planned to. She just wanted to drop Ciri off and go back to sorting through her thoughts.
But instead, she let him lead her inside.
“Master chef at work,” she teased with a small smile as the scent of cooked cabbage and seasoned meat filled the air. Warm. Familiar. Homey.
“Go ahead. You've never once complained about my stuffed cabbage rolls.”
And that was true. His stuffed cabbage rolls were legendary.
Ciri had already disappeared upstairs, leaving them alone in the kitchen. Geralt went back to stirring something in the pot while Yennefer sat at the table.
“Still living in your own head?” he asked suddenly, not even turning to look at her.
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
“You're impossible, Geralt. Did you really lure me here under the pretense of food just to interrogate me?”
Finally, he turned around, leveling her with that impossibly sharp gaze of his. His golden eyes always made it seem like he could see more than she wanted to show.
“Ciri said something's been bothering you,” he said calmly. It wasn't a question.
Of course, she did.
For a second, Yennefer considered denying it, deflecting, making a joke. But this was Geralt. He always understood her—even when she didn't understand herself.
“Maybe,” she admitted at last.
He didn't push. He never did. He just waited, giving her space. And that was the worst part, because it made her actually want to talk.
She sighed and let go of the pendant she had been toying with. Placing her hands flat on the table, she laced her fingers together so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
“Something's changed recently,” she started, then hesitated, searching for the right words. “Or maybe… it didn't just start recently.”
Geralt remained silent. The temperature in the room suddenly felt too warm.
“There are…” she trailed off, tapping her fingers against the table. “Doors in my life now.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, expecting a smirk. But he only lifted a brow.
“Doors,” he echoed, amusement creeping into his voice.
“Yes.” She felt the heat rise to her face. “You know... you pass by so many of them along the way. Some you ignore. Some are important. And these… These have been there for a long time. But they were locked. Safe. I made sure of that.”
Geralt let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
“You sound like one of those self-help books you read to Ciri.”
He crossed his arms, though his eyes remained warm.
“Fuck you,” she muttered, without any real bite.
“Go on,” he continued, completely unfazed. “What about the doors? They open?”
“Yeah,” she admitted softly.
“And you're afraid to step inside.”
“No,” she started, but the words died in her throat.
Because wasn't that exactly it? She suddenly found herself studying the sleeve of her black sweater a little too intently.
“I don't know if I should.”
Geralt gave her a long, measured look.
“You want some juice?”
“Please,” she answered quickly, grateful for the shift in topic.
He handed her a glass, then leaned back against the counter, arms still crossed, watching her with that piercing stare of his.
“What could be behind them,” he asked, “that makes you hesitate?”
Yennefer tightened her grip on the glass.
“I don't know, Geralt.”
“You know what's behind every door you choose not to open,” he said quietly. “The real question is why you're hesitating this time.”
“You don't understand. I genuinely don't know,” she hesitated, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “And that's exactly why…”
“Come on, Yen. In all the years I've known you, you've never been indecisive. You assess, you decide, you act.”
“Not this time,” she snapped, sharper than she intended.
He studied her for a moment. “Then it must be important. If you're afraid to make the wrong choice, it matters more than you want to admit.”
She stared into her glass, saying nothing.
“You take risks every day at work,” he continued. “It's in your blood. So what's different now?”
“It's not about the risk to me,” she said suddenly.
She pushed back her chair and stood, walking toward the window. The cool glass under her fingertips helped ground her thoughts, but her body remained tense, betraying her before she could stop it.
“Ah.” His voice was quiet, understanding. He hadn't even turned from the counter. “You're worried about hurting someone else.”
Yennefer pressed her lips together.
“I think I'm done with this conversation.”
“Don't run from me, Yen. And don't run from what you're feeling.”
“Geralt,” she warned.
“What makes you think you'll hurt them?”
She clenched her arms around herself, but finally, she said, “I'm worried this might be temporary. That once I… once I step through that door, I'll realize it's not what I expected and…
The words were pulled from her, dragged out like something resisting its own existence. Geralt turned abruptly, staring at her.
“Temporary?” He shook his head. “Listen to yourself, Yen. When have you ever done anything half-hearted? You commit fully or not at all.”
She stayed silent, watching raindrops streak down the window.
“If this was just some passing interest, you wouldn't be standing here talking in metaphors about doors,” he said flatly. “You'd have either acted on it already or dismissed it entirely.”
“It's not that simple,” she started, only to cut herself off.
“Because it matters,” Geralt said, eyes fixed on her. “Because it's not just about what you want. You're afraid of what happens after.”
A slow heat crept up her neck, burning across her cheeks.
He understood. Of course, he did. She could feel him reading between the lines, catching the metaphor she hadn't fully acknowledged herself.
She bit her lip.
“Look, Yen,” Geralt said, turning back to the pot with a final stir. “Whatever, or whoever, is behind those doors has you tied in knots. That tells me everything I need to know.” He placed the lid on the pot and looked directly at her. “You're not afraid of the risk. You're afraid it might be real.”
“I'm not tied in knots,” she protested weakly.
Geralt let out a short, knowing laugh.
“Right. And I'm a vegetarian.” He stopped and looked at her with unexpected gentleness. “You won't hurt them. Not unless you keep hiding from what you actually feel.”
Yennefer stared at him, feeling her throat tighten. He was right. Damn him, he was absolutely right.
“You don't change who you are by admitting what you want, Yen,” he said simply. “You just become more honest about it.”
She was silent for a long moment before finally returning to the table, wordlessly helping him prepare dinner.
“Hmm,” Geralt added, passing her a stack of plates. “When have you ever regretted taking a chance on something that mattered?”
Yennefer bit her lip.
“Rarely.”
He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Then don't start now. Come on, I'll call Ciri.”
Dinner passed in a surprisingly pleasant atmosphere.
Ciri dominated the conversation with excited talk about her plans for the new school year, and Yennefer let herself simply be. Listening, commenting, laughing at the right moments. Geralt's stuffed cabbage rolls were, as always, perfect.
When it was finally time to leave, she lingered at the door as Geralt placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Remember, what's meant to be, will be,” he murmured just loud enough that Ciri wouldn't hear. “Sometimes, you just have to stop fighting it.”
She gave a small nod, not trusting her voice.
The drive home was short, but her thoughts were so loud that she barely registered the streets passing by.
Geralt's words clung to her, ringing in her mind like a song she couldn't forget. For a moment, she felt annoyed at herself for letting him pull her into that conversation. But at the same time, she had needed it—needed to voice what had been trapped in her mind for too long.
She felt lighter now, even if the situation remained complicated. This wasn't just physical attraction or fleeting curiosity. If it were, she would have gotten over it already, returned to being her usual, unshakable self.
But she couldn't.
And that was the real problem.
Sunday, September 1, 7:35 a.m.
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
The return to work was exactly what she needed to feel confident again. Finally living her life, the one she had chosen and wanted.
Yennefer pushed open the locker room door and stepped inside, glancing around the space. She'd come in early, deliberately giving herself time to acclimate. She set her bag down on the bench and slowly began to unpack her things. She changed unhurriedly, precisely braiding her hair into a tight plait and making sure everything was in place.
She stood before the small mirror hanging on the inside of her locker door. Taking a deep breath, she studied her reflection. It was still her—the same face, the same eyes. And yet something had changed, impossible to ignore.
What has she done to me?
The thought flickered through her mind as Triss's image involuntarily appeared. She shook her head slightly, as if trying physically to chase the thoughts away.
Entering the briefing room, she immediately spotted familiar faces. Syanna and Dorien stood by the window, deep in conversation. At the desk at the front of the room sat Philippa, reviewing some documents. Their eyes met, and without waiting a second longer, Philippa gestured for her to come over. Yennefer crossed the room, passing chairs arranged in neat rows in the center.
“Miss me, Phil?” she asked, leaning over the desk.
“Always, Yennefer,” Philippa replied, setting down her documents. “How was your vacation? Did you finally relax a little?”
“Let's say I did,” Yennefer muttered, resting her hands on the desk. “What do you want?”
“I have two things for you,” Philippa began, lowering her voice and gesturing toward three young men sitting fairly close by. “First, we have new volunteers, be nice to them if you can. Rience and Dorien were supposed to help out during the summer, but they're saying they'll stay until the end of September. Dorien's seriously considering working with the dogs, so you could help him.”
“I know, I've talked to him several times,” Yennefer interrupted.
“Right,” Philippa continued. “And speaking of dogs, I need Pontar's pedigree. A copy.”
Yennefer narrowed her eyes, looking at her suspiciously.
“What the hell do you need that for?”
“We've received some inquiries, training verification, and so on,” Philippa explained. “His pedigree is missing from the documentation, but it's listed that he has one and…”
“Is this really important?” Yennefer didn't hide her irritation.
“Yes, Yennefer,” Philippa looked at her firmly. “This information is public record, and if someone requests it, we have to provide it.”
“And someone wants it? Pontar's specifically?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, he's distinctive,” Philippa shrugged, then added with a slight smile, “You are too. Maybe someone's taken an interest in you. You know what I mean.”
Yennefer felt a twinge of unease. Who would be interested in her dog? And why? She didn't like anyone digging into her affairs, even seemingly trivial ones. The possibility that someone might be watching her, investigating her background—it set her on edge.
“I'll try to find it tonight and bring it tomorrow,” she finally said, straightening up.
“Thanks,” Philippa nodded, then added, “Oh, and the fire department wants to do some training exercises with the dogs for searching through rubble. I think it's happening in mid-September. Just keep it in mind.”
“No problem,” Yennefer assured her. “Is that all?”
“Yes, good to have you back,” Philippa said, returning to her documents.
Yennefer gave her just a brief smile and headed toward the group standing by the entrance. She spotted Chireadan, already joking with Syanna, Dorien, and… Triss. Her heart gave an uncontrolled leap when she saw the red-haired journalist laughing at something the rescuer had said. As Triss gestured animatedly with her hands, Yennefer noticed the bracelet she had given her—she was actually wearing it. Such a simple gesture, yet it did far more to her than it should have.
She approached them, trying to maintain a neutral expression.
“Look who's back from exile!” Chireadan called out, noticing her. “Both of you decide to show up on the same day.” He glanced between Yennefer and Triss with an amused smile.
“You always have the worst greetings,” she replied, though the corner of her mouth twitched with a suppressed smile.
“Good to see you. Without you, this circus wasn't the same.” Syanna nodded to her with genuine joy.
“Hey,” Triss said quietly, and her voice made Yennefer feel warmth spreading through her chest.
They laughed and joked for a while, sharing abbreviated versions of events from the past few weeks. Yennefer tried to participate in the conversation, but her attention kept drifting to Triss—to the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, to the small creases at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, to how her hands moved when she spoke.
Finally, Philippa stood up and cleared her throat meaningfully.
“Take your seats, we're starting the briefing.”
As they sat down, Triss naturally took the place next to Yennefer, their shoulders almost touching. Yennefer could smell her scent, familiar and intoxicating. She focused her gaze on Philippa, forcing herself to concentrate.
After the briefing, she headed to the garage, leaving Pontar who had eagerly gone to Dorien. She needed a task, something to occupy her hands and mind. She laid out the backpacks on the bench, methodically checking their contents. Every item had to be in its place, ready for use in a split second. There was safety in this—in systematization, in order. Not in unpredictable feelings, not in dreams of raspberry lips.
“The guys are up to something,” Triss's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She sat on the bench right next to one of the backpacks, leaning against the wall and tilting her head slightly. She looked as if she were solving a complicated puzzle. Yennefer swallowed, focusing her gaze on the backpack pocket.
“Who exactly?”
“Chireadan and Eskel, and I think Coën's mixed up in it too,” Triss replied, tapping her fingers on the wooden bench. “They were whispering something and went quiet when I approached. That's always a bad sign.”
“Damn…” Yennefer sighed, zipping up the compartment she'd just verified. “They're going to want to race.”
“Race?” Triss leaned forward, intrigued.
“You'll see,” Yennefer allowed herself a brief smile.
She cast a careful glance at Triss. The journalist looked less formal today than usual—she wore athletic pants and a sweatshirt, with her hair tied in a low ponytail that exposed her neck. Yennefer looked away before her thoughts wandered in the wrong direction.
“Yennefer!” Chireadan burst into the garage, radiating energy like a child who had just received a dream gift and whose smile wouldn't fade for hours.
She straightened slowly, setting aside the checked backpack.
“What's up, handsome?”
“Vacation suits you,” Chireadan chirped. “Less growling when you say hello. Did you miss us?”
“There are no words to describe it,” she replied dryly, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Ready for a little challenge? Climbing wall, like the old days?”
“I told you,” Yennefer threw a knowing look at Triss. “This predictability is downright disappointing.”
“You're going to lose.” Chireadan grinned widely. “Oh, Yennefer, how you're going to lose. Maybe Triss could record it?”
“Maybe you should go warm up. You'll need those few minutes of advantage,” she retorted.
Chireadan laughed, and Eskel joined them in the garage. His smile was smaller than Chireadan's, but equally genuine.
“So you passed the psychological evaluation,” he joked, leaning against a column. “Still sharp with the comebacks.”
“I'm just getting started. I had to be nice around Ciri,” Yennefer shrugged.
“I'm sure that little devil of yours could teach us all a thing or two about comebacks,” said Chireadan, then clapped his hands. “Alright, we're waiting in the hall. Hurry with those backpacks.”
“We're still waiting for Coën anyway,” Eskel interjected, grabbing Chireadan by the arm.
“Aren't there too many of you?” asked Yennefer, raising an eyebrow.
“Gives you a better chance of winning,” Eskel winked at her conspiratorially.
“Such gentlemanly behavior moves me to tears,” she said with exaggerated pathos, watching them as they left.
She put the checked backpacks on the shelf, turning to Triss, who had been observing the whole scene with amusement.
“Is it always like this?”
“What exactly? The testosterone-fueled competition?” Yennefer leaned against the wall. “Oh yes. Any excuse is good enough to see who has the bigger… skills.”
Triss giggled, and the sound resonated in Yennefer's chest like an echo in an empty cave.
“And what's the racing for?”
“Officially? To check if I'm still fit for action after my break,” Yennefer shrugged. “Unofficially? Because they can. And they enjoy it.”
“I don't believe you could forget anything,” said Triss, and her voice took on a tone that Yennefer couldn't quite interpret. Warm, almost… admiring?
“I think so too,” she replied, trying to sound neutral. “They like competition, and I like testing my skills. Everyone wins.”
“Can I come watch?”
“Sure,” Yennefer took a deep breath. “But if I lose, you didn't see anything.”
“You? Lose? Impossible,” Triss said without losing faith.
“Against Chireadan, definitely,” Yennefer admitted, moving toward the door. “He's like a spider. His arms are longer than my legs.”
“At your height, that's not much of a feat, Yennefer,” Triss shot back without hesitation.
Yennefer stopped abruptly, surprised. She turned to see Triss biting her lower lip, cheeks flushed but eyes sparkling with a mix of embarrassment and pride at her unexpected boldness.
She felt something shift inside her. Seeing Triss like this, suddenly shy yet pleased with herself, was oddly satisfying. She didn't even need to counter the jab; the look on Triss's face was reward enough.
“Touché,” Yennefer said, her voice dropping slightly as she let her gaze linger just a moment longer than necessary. The smile that curved her lips wasn't just amusement. It was appreciation.
The climbing hall had always reminded Yennefer of freedom—paradoxically, since it was an enclosed space. But the tall walls covered with colorful holds, the possibility of rising above the ground, that moment when her whole body worked in harmony—it gave her a sense of both control and freedom.
Chireadan, Eskel, and Coën were already there, preparing the equipment. Their voices echoed through the hall as they joked and teased each other. The sight filled Yennefer with calm, she might not always show it, but this band of idiots was her second family.
“There she is!” Coën called out, the first to notice their entrance. “We thought you'd chickened out.”
“Have you forgotten who you're talking to?” she replied, approaching the equipment rack.
She grabbed a harness and put it on slowly, feeling everyone's eyes on her.
“I see you remember how,” Eskel observed, walking over with a rope, and she just lightly punched his arm with a smile.
“What's the plan?” she asked.
“Classic,” Chireadan answered, fastening the last buckle on his harness. “First one to touch the platform at the top.”
“What platform?” Triss asked, tilting her head back.
“That one,” Yennefer pointed to a metal structure mounted near the ceiling, about thirty feet above the ground. “It's our orientation point for evacuation drills.”
“And our typical goal in competitions,” Coën added with a smile.
Chireadan put his arm around Triss, leading her to the center of the hall.
“We need an objective and incorruptible judge,” he announced solemnly. “That role falls to you.”
“Me?” Triss blinked in surprise. “But I don't know the rules…”
“The rules are simple,” Eskel explained. “Whoever touches the platform first wins. You just need to give the signal to start and observe who gets there first.”
Triss glanced uncertainly at Yennefer, who nodded slightly.
“Just be careful, they'll try to bribe you,” she warned with a half-smile.
“Never!” Chireadan placed his hand over his heart in mock outrage.
“She should also decide who stands where,” Coën suggested. “The wall isn't uniform, so to make it fair.”
Triss bit her lip, looking at the wall. Yennefer observed her focused face—slightly furrowed brows, eyes scanning the holds. Even in this simple and rather silly task, she looked engaged, as if something truly important depended on her decision.
“Alright...” she finally said. “From the left: Chireadan, Coën, Yennefer, and Eskel.”
“Why am I first?” Chireadan immediately protested.
Triss crossed her arms over her chest.
“I thought you wanted to win?”
Yennefer couldn't suppress a smile.
“You're the tallest, so it's fair,” Eskel admitted, patting Chireadan on the back.
They took their designated positions at the wall. Yennefer felt the familiar tingling in her fingers, and adrenaline started putting her body on high alert. Her eyes scanned the route, mapping out her moves. She knew this wall, had climbed it many times, but it was never a routine experience. Each climb was like a new puzzle, especially under time pressure.
“Everyone ready?” Triss asked, adopting a serious judge expression.
They checked their gear one more time—harnesses, carabiners, and their rope.
“Ready…” Triss looked at each of them individually. “Three, two, one… GO!”
Yennefer started lightning-fast, grabbing the first holds. Her body automatically took position—hips close to the wall, weight evenly distributed, eyes searching for the next points of support. She quickly found her rhythm, and it was satisfying.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Chireadan climbing up like some oversized spider, his long limbs reaching holds that would be out of range for her. Eskel on her right was using his strength, pulling himself up with powerful movements. Coën climbed steadily, technically, and without hurry.
“Come on, Yen!” she heard Triss's voice and felt her heart speed up even more.
She pulled herself higher, focusing her gaze on the route. She wouldn't let distracting thoughts derail her, not now. All that mattered was the wall, the next hold, the next move.
She didn't answer, saving her breath. Instead, she accelerated, finding the optimal rhythm. Her body moved with muscle memory. She was already halfway up, catching up to Eskel, who had started to lose momentum on a more difficult section.
“You'll lose the bet, Chireadan!” Coën shouted, trying to distance him.
“What bet?” Yennefer asked, not stopping her climb.
“We bet on the order!” Eskel called back.
Typical. They always had to add extra stakes. She ignored it, concentrating on the section ahead. She grabbed the next hold, feeling the burning tension in her arm muscles. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and the awareness that Triss was watching her acted like an extra energy boost.
Chireadan was already at the platform, his long arm reaching the target first.
“Got it!” he shouted triumphantly.
Yennefer focused on the last few meters. She pulled herself up, finding a surprisingly good position, and reached for the platform.
“Second!” she called out, breathing heavily.
“I was second!” Eskel immediately protested, having touched the metal structure a split second after her.
“Triss! Results!” Coën shouted, arriving last.
Everyone looked down to where Triss stood with her hands on her hips and a wide smile.
“Chireadan first, then Yennefer, Eskel, and Coën,” she announced with a confident voice. “No doubt about it.”
“Ha! I knew it!” Eskel extended his hand toward Chireadan. “You're buying pizza, man.”
“You let her win on purpose,” Chireadan accused.
“You insult me,” Eskel laughed.
They began to descend in controlled movements. Chireadan, unable to help himself, matched pace with Yennefer.
“Fast as always,” he said with appreciation. “Though it seems to me the beach slowed you down a bit. All that excess sun…”
“Next time we'll tie one of your arms to your side,” she retorted, descending slowly. “Then we'll see how fast you are.”
“That already sounds like a challenge, Yennefer,” Chireadan grinned. “I accept. Whenever you want and whatever you want.”
When their feet touched the ground, Triss approached them, clapping enthusiastically.
“That was amazing! But Yennefer, you were so close...”
“Have to admit, the spider won fair and square,” Yennefer nodded toward Chireadan, unfastening her harness. “But I swear he has some illegal joint implants.”
“Pure talent and hard work,” Chireadan took a theatrical bow.
Eskel and Coën began collecting the equipment and putting it away.
“Stop showing off,” Coën laughed. “I'm going to check the vehicles.”
“I'll go with you,” Eskel said.
After they left, Yennefer looked at Triss, who was still studying the climbing wall with fascination.
“Want to try?” she asked impulsively.
Triss turned to her, surprised.
“Me? Climb?” she shook her head. “I don't know how. I've climbed maybe once or twice, a long time ago.”
“We'll show you,” Chireadan interjected before Yennefer could reply. She felt a slight twinge of something unpleasant; she had wanted to show Triss herself. But on the other hand, maybe it was better to have Chireadan between them.
“I don't know…” Triss hesitated. “It looks hard.”
“We'll start with something simpler,” Yennefer assured her, reaching for a new harness. “That section is the easiest of all. The platform is about fifteen feet up.”
Triss bit her lip, then finally nodded.
“Alright, but please don't comment on my comical clumsiness.”
“We're professionals,” Chireadan assured her with gravity, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.
Yennefer approached Triss with the harness while Chireadan prepared the ropes.
“Put this on,” she instructed, helping Triss into the harness.
Triss obediently put it on, and Yennefer helped adjust the straps around her thighs and waist, trying to maintain professional distance, even though each accidental touch sent electric impulses along her arms.
“This strap needs to be properly adjusted,” she said, standing behind Triss a bit too close.
Her fingers worked at the buckles, adjusting the tension of the straps. Triss stood motionless, but Yennefer could sense her tension.
“Not too tight on your thighs?” she asked, checking the loops around Triss's legs.
“Depends on what you mean by 'too tight,'” Triss replied with unexpected amusement in her voice. “Generally, I like having some freedom of movement there.”
Yennefer felt her cheeks warm up. She hadn't expected such a comment.
“Generally, I mean whether it's pinching you or cutting off your circulation,” she said, trying to sound neutral, though the corner of her mouth twitched in a smile.
“Of course,” Triss turned her head, looking at her over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye. “In that context, it's fine.”
Chireadan approached them with the prepared rope.
“Ready?” he asked, handing the carabiner to Yennefer.
Yennefer clipped Triss into the belay system and tugged it lightly, which made Triss flinch slightly, her eyes widening in surprise.
“This is your safety line,” she explained, showing the taut rope. “Even if you lose your grip and fall, the rope will catch you and slowly lower you down. You don't have to worry about anything.”
Triss looked up, her face always quickly changing with emotions, now slightly nervous. For a moment, they stood so close that Yennefer could see every freckle on her nose, every fleck in her eyes. Some part of her—the logical, rational part—was still warning her to step back, to maintain professionalism. But Geralt was right. Sometimes it's worth trusting what you feel, not what you think you should feel.
“Easy for you to say. What if I end up hanging upside down like a bat?”
“Then we'll take a picture, and it'll be great material for your next article,” Chireadan answered, and Yennefer shot him a warning look.
“Don't listen to him. I'll be belaying you the whole time. We'll start with the basics,” Yennefer said, pointing to the first holds. “If you can, grab the bigger ones, they're easier. Try to maintain three points of contact. If you release one hand, both feet and your other hand should be stable. The key is keeping your hips close to the wall.”
Triss nodded, concentrating on the task. She grabbed the first hold and placed her foot on a low foothold.
“And now?” Triss asked so quietly that only Yennefer could hear her. There was more in her voice than just a question about climbing technique.
“Now reach upward,” Yennefer instructed, surprised at how calm her voice sounded when her body was reacting completely differently—her heart pounding in her chest, warmth spreading down her spine, a desire not to move away even an inch.
Triss made the instructed move, reaching up. Yennefer still stood very close, ready to assist.
“Perfect,” she whispered, allowing herself one more moment of closeness before stepping back. “I think you're ready for the real climb.”
Chireadan, who had been busy on the other side of the hall, approached them, completely unaware of the intensity of the moment he had just interrupted.
“All set?” he asked, doing a final equipment check.
“Yes,” Triss answered, and her voice sounded different, a bit lower, a bit softer. “I'm ready.”
She looked at Yennefer with the same tension, the same intensity that Yennefer felt within herself. Their exchanged glance lasted maybe a second, maybe two, but contained more than hours of conversation.
“I did it!” she called out, beaming with pride after several attempts when she finally reached the platform.
“Bravo!” Yennefer couldn't hold back a genuine smile. “Wonderful job!”
Triss held onto the platform for a moment, as if wanting to remember the feeling, then slowly began to descend, controlled by the belay rope. When her feet touched the floor, her face expressed pure joy and satisfaction.
“That was… amazing,” she said, removing her helmet. Her hair was slightly damp with sweat, and her cheeks flushed from the effort. “Now I understand why you love this.”
“It's addictive,” Chireadan admitted, jumping down nimbly from his wall. “The first time you're afraid, the second time you want more, and then you can't stop.”
“Like many things in life,” Yennefer commented, helping Triss unfasten her harness.
They all put the equipment back in its place, and the women headed toward the exit.
“I need some air,” Triss said suddenly. “It's quite stuffy in here.”
“Sure, let's go,” Yennefer agreed, holding the heavy door open for everyone.
Through the garage, they went outside, where the cool air greeted them with a soothing breeze. Triss leaned against the building wall, drinking water from the bottle that Yennefer had managed to grab from a shelf on their way out. She tilted her head back and drank with her eyes half-closed, and as always, Yennefer couldn't look away.
“That was really intense,” Triss said, wiping her mouth.
“Climbing can be intense,” Yennefer nodded, standing beside her but keeping a safe distance.
“Climbing too…” Triss added, glancing at her with a slight blush on her cheeks.
Yennefer felt her heart quicken. This simple comment, spoken in an innocent tone, suddenly seemed much more complicated.
“It's good that you're back,” Triss said quietly, staring into the distance.
“You too,” Yennefer replied, looking at her.
The first day back turned out to be surprisingly intense. After their climbing race, everyone had barely caught their breath before the real work began. Yennefer and Coën were called to a woman who had suffered anaphylactic shock after being stung by a bee during a mountain hike. When they arrived, the woman was already having trouble breathing, which meant they had to act quickly.
“Good thing she had an EpiPen with her,” Coën said as they returned to base after transporting the injured woman to the ambulance waiting for them at the main street.
Yennefer nodded, driving the vehicle with a steady hand along the winding mountain road. She felt strangely calm—despite the seriousness of the situation, returning to saving people brought her a familiar sense that she was doing something good and could focus completely on it. Driving was something she enjoyed too, and Coën was calm and never fought to take the wheel at all costs.
“Stop,” Coën suddenly pointed to the roadside, where a young man sat hunched over a fallen mountain bike. “Looks like he needs help.”
It turned out the cyclist had broken his arm in a fall on a steep descent. They patched him up efficiently. Yennefer immobilized the fracture while Coën handled radio communication and securing the bike.
“You could say you've returned in style,” Coën commented when they were heading back to base, leaving the cyclist in the care of colleagues who would transport him to the hospital.
“It's nothing special,” Yennefer shrugged, though deep down she felt satisfaction. “Neither of those calls was life-threatening.”
“And yet, we did something good,” he smiled. “I know for you, it's not enough excitement, but sometimes these simple calls matter too.”
Yennefer glanced at him with appreciation. Coën was right, except for the part about not enough excitement. Lately, there had been far too many emotions.
She spent the rest of the Sunday in the duty room, listening to reports about the boys' trip to the accident during the climb. Triss sat with them, gossiping with Crach who seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of stories about everyone and everything.
The afternoon light slanted through the windows as different team members drifted in and out. Some grabbed coffee, others checked raptors or just stopped to chat before heading back to their tasks. There was an easy rhythm to it all that Yennefer had missed during her time off.
“Can you believe it's September already?” Dorien said, walking in with Rience and Syanna as the shift was winding down. He dropped into a chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“Don't remind me,” Yennefer groaned, leaning back in her chair. “I have a week off, and I still have to get up early to drive Ciri to school. Half an hour each way is not how I planned to spend my mornings.”
“Oh, please,” Triss teased, nudging her shoulder. “You'd do anything for Ciri, so stop complaining.”
“Parents are contractually obligated to complain,” Crach laughed. “But seriously, an hour's a small price to pay for several hours of peace and quiet. Trust me, I know.”
“I know either,” Yennefer nodded toward him. “How's Cerys handling the new school year?”
“Already has her schedule color-coded and three different study groups planned,” Crach rolled his eyes, but his pride was evident. “Meanwhile, I get to enjoy my coffee in silence for the first time in months.”
“Speaking of school,” Dorien chimed in, “I've still got a month before my classes start.”
“What are you studying?” Triss asked, leaning forward with interest.
“Veterinary medicine,” he replied, a note of pride in his voice. His eyes flicked toward Pontar, who was dozing under the table. “I've always wanted to work with animals.”
“That explains the way you hover around the dogs,” Rience commented dryly from where he was scrolling through his phone. “Thought you were just trying to avoid real work.”
“Says the guy who disappeared for an hour to 'check equipment,'” Syanna teased, making air quotes.
“The equipment needed checking!” Rience protested as everyone laughed.
The conversation shifted to teasing Crach about his overprotective parenting style, which he took with good-natured grumbling.
Yennefer turned slightly to look at Triss beside her, catching her mid-laugh, eyes bright with amusement. Their gazes met for a brief moment, and Yennefer couldn't help but smile. It felt good to be back—the easy camaraderie, the gentle jokes, the sense of belonging. Even with all the confusion she felt about Triss, about her feelings, this place remained a constant.
As the laughter around her swelled, Yennefer allowed herself to relax, acutely aware of Triss's knee pressed against hers. Whatever was happening between her and Triss, whatever changes were coming, some things remained wonderfully, reassuringly the same.
The rest of the week was almost painfully quiet. After Sunday's rescues, they spent the remaining days mostly training the volunteers, which Yennefer found particularly tedious. After several days off, she needed some action and adrenaline, but she tried to keep it to herself and not complain too much. She approached it professionally, as always, and did what she could—taught the newcomers basic first aid and, along with Eskel and Chireadan, wore them out a bit on the climbing walls, making them climb with heavy backpacks and stretchers.
After each briefing, they also made sure the young recruits checked the equipment in each vehicle and the backpacks. Yennefer noticed Triss's expression when they again sent the volunteers to the storage room with ropes and carabiners. Still, Triss didn't comment on their methods—she most likely knew that they knew what they were doing, and this was the kind of discipline rescuers needed.
On Wednesday, she was a bit tired, so she left the training of the newcomers to the rest of the group. She sat alone in the station's common room, hunched in one of the worn armchairs by the window. The afternoon light cast long shadows across the floor as she focused on the first aid manual in her hands. Her recertification exam was approaching, and although after years of fieldwork she could probably perform most procedures blindfolded, theory was another matter. If she got stuck with one of the more rigorous examiners, her practical experience wouldn't count for much if she couldn't recite the textbook definitions word for word.
She was deep into the chapter on spinal injuries when she heard the door open. Without looking up, she knew it was Triss. Her intuition didn't fail her, though she wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
“You'll never believe what just happened,” Triss announced, dropping into the chair across from Yennefer. “I just saw Philippa having an intense conversation with one of the rescuers. Actually, I didn't see, I heard, and I don't know who she was talking to.”
Yennefer briefly looked up, then returned to her reading.
“I mean, she wasn't yelling or anything, but you could tell she was furious,” Triss continued, either not noticing or ignoring Yennefer's lack of interest. “She was speaking so quietly, but her voice was terrible. She was hissing at that poor guy like a snake. I wonder if he did something wrong.”
Without raising her eyes from the book, Yennefer responded flatly, “Don't get involved, Triss. Leave it alone.”
“But don't you think...”
“Philippa knows what she's doing,” Yennefer interrupted, turning a page. “Always in control. That's why she's the commander.”
“I know, but it seemed personal,” Triss insisted. “I don't think they realized someone might see them.”
This time Yennefer sighed. She was trying to memorize a stabilization procedure, and now the words were blurring together. Triss's voice—normally something she enjoyed—made concentration impossible.
“Maybe they had some history before he joined the unit. What do you think?”
Yennefer closed the book with an almost theatrical gesture, the sound sharper than necessary. The motion caught Triss's attention mid-sentence.
“Oh,” Triss said, her eyes widening slightly when she noticed the book. “You're studying. I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting.”
Yennefer didn't respond, just held the closed book in her lap, giving Triss a measured look. This was the side of Triss that should irritate her—that curiosity about other people, that meddling in matters that didn't concern her. That desire to dig into other people's secrets. With anyone else, it would have been enough for Yennefer to definitively end the conversation.
“I should go. I'm sorry for barging in and being nosy,” Triss added hastily, already rising from her chair.
Yennefer glanced out the window. The afternoon sun gilded the grass behind the station building, and the meadow stretched all the way to the tree line. She wouldn't be getting back to studying anyway, and the view was too beautiful to waste.
“Walk?” she asked, surprising even herself as she stood up and looked directly at Triss. “I need to take Pontar out anyway.”
Triss paused, clearly surprised by the sudden shift. Their eyes met, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them—Yennefer's mild irritation, Triss's understanding, and beneath it all, everything else that sparked between them.
“Sure,” Triss finally replied with a slight smile. “I'd love to.”
Yennefer nodded, placing the book on a side table. In a few hours, she'd have to pick it up again, but now… now something else was more important.
“Let's go get Pontar so he can run around behind the building. There's plenty of space out there.”
“I saw him earlier sleeping on the terrace,” Triss noted, then added uncertainly, “You're not mad at me?”
Yennefer stopped, turning slowly. In Triss's eyes, she saw something that squeezed her heart—uncertainty, a fragility she rarely showed. This Triss, the happy and confident journalist, suddenly seemed so… vulnerable.
“No, Triss,” she answered softly. “I'm not mad.”
“Are we okay?” Triss asked, and in her question, Yennefer heard a more profound meaning, as if she were asking about more than just this small moment of misunderstanding.
She was asking about them. About everything that had happened on vacation. About the glances, they could no longer hide. About all those moments when they were too close for it to pass as accidental.
Yennefer felt the last drops of her resistance evaporating under the intensity of Triss's gaze.
“Absolutely,” she replied with new certainty in her voice, not looking away. A warm sparkle appeared in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a genuine smile. “We're more than okay.”
She reached out and placed her hand on Triss's shoulder, turning her gently toward the door. Then she removed her hand, seemingly casually and accidentally running it along Triss's arm down to her elbow. But this time, nothing about the touch was accidental.
They walked side by side down the corridor, Yennefer trying to calm her breathing. The tension from a few moments ago hadn't disappeared—quite the opposite. It had transformed into an electrifying awareness that everything between them was changing. Geralt was right. She had stopped fighting these feelings. She allowed herself to be authentic, and that feeling was both terrifying and liberating.
When their hands brushed against each other as they walked, Yennefer didn't pull hers away. Instead, for a fraction of a second, she allowed herself to feel the warmth of that contact. In this simple moment, there was more honesty than in everything she had tried to tell herself over the past few weeks. She still didn't know what to do, but being next to Triss, she felt she was exactly where she needed to be.
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who's still here and patient with me! This story is looong, but the good news is: it's almost finished (at least on my chaotic little hard drive). All that's left is translating the remaining chapters and giving them some final polish.
I’ll do my best to update more often. I honestly can’t wait to share the rest of this journey with you. ;)
Chapter 17
Notes:
Thank you so much for your support and patience!
Things are picking up in the story, so I’m picking up the pace too—I'll do my best to post new chapters weekly from now on. 💜
Chapter Text
The first week back at work passed more quickly than Yennefer had expected. She'd readjusted to the routine, to the familiar environment and colleagues, and Triss's constant presence at the station made everything seem brighter.
Fewer tourists, more pleasant temperatures, and that strange calm that came with the first yellowing leaves. This year, however, it was different. Yennefer felt torn between the peace that work routine gave her and something new that had appeared in her life. This strange game with Triss, where they both tested their boundaries, but neither spoke it aloud.
She knew they were both testing their limits. Every smile, every accidental touch, every surreptitious glance was part of this game. A game that grew more intense and captivating each day. Perhaps dangerous, but then again, danger had never frightened her. All of it brought her more adrenaline than many rescue operations.
The only shadow on her good mood was the paperwork sitting in her locker. She didn't know who had decided to target her, but someone had clearly filed several requests to verify her qualifications and documentation compliance. Philippa had asked her to complete forms and find a copy of Pontar's pedigree. Such reviews happened to rescuers from time to time, usually when someone who had been rescued was dissatisfied with something, but Yennefer couldn't remember recently offending anyone.
Pushing her concern aside, she focused on the positives. With Triss around, everything felt easier and made more sense. Though she loved her job, she looked forward to her upcoming week off—even if it meant facing the challenge of Ciri's first days of the new school year.
The alarm sounded suddenly, pulling Yennefer from her thoughts. Saturday's shift had promised to be exceptionally calm, as the start of the school year typically meant fewer people on the trails, even on weekends. It had been truly quiet until early afternoon, when a report came in about a missing man. Technically, he was an adult, which could be anywhere—but he had left information at home about a planned hike in the mountains yesterday and hadn't returned overnight. That was enough to activate procedures.
As Yennefer prepared a backpack and vest for Pontar, she noticed Triss entering the garage from the corner of her eye. She immediately knew something was wrong. Triss didn't have her camera, which always hung around her neck during operations. Nor did she have her typical energy—that excitement that transformed her face into one big smile whenever a real field mission was coming up. Instead, she walked slowly, hands in her pockets, like someone who came out of obligation rather than choice. When their eyes met, Triss slightly lowered her gaze.
“Riding with us?” Yennefer approached her, attaching the radio to her vest.
“Yes, Philippa said I could,” Triss answered, but without that spark in her eyes that usually accompanied such trips.
“Everything okay?” Yennefer asked, unable to suppress the concern that crept into her voice.
“Sure, why do you ask?” Triss shrugged, not meeting her eyes. For a moment she hesitated, as if wanting to add something, but ultimately just bit her lower lip and remained silent.
Yennefer wanted to pursue the topic, but Roche was already calling everyone to the vehicle. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a spare fleece and a first aid kit, handing both to Triss. She smiled, and that was all she could do. Better focus on the mission first, then maybe she could talk to Triss afterward.
After arriving on site, everything moved quickly. Two vehicles, a quad bike, eight rescuers, a dog, maps, locators, radios. A routine and procedures Yennefer knew by heart. Firefighters and police covered the easier terrain, while their team took the most challenging section. A steep slope covered with dense forest.
Normally, they would assign her a second rescuer, but she had Triss, and everyone knew that was enough. And if the operation proved more difficult, she'd have to wait for the rest of the rescue team anyway.
“Ready?” she asked as they set off on a path leading sideways from the main trail.
“Yes, I'm supposed to stay out of your way and follow your instructions,” Triss responded in a monotone voice, completely unlike her usual self. She shifted from foot to foot, as if something was bothering her, not just her shoes.
“You're supposed to act like you always do,” Yennefer corrected her, feeling a strange unease. “And take care of yourself, okay?”
“Sure, I'll stay a step behind you,” Triss said, but her voice carried a strange bitterness that Yennefer couldn't interpret.
Yennefer gave Pontar a command, and he immediately moved forward, sniffing the ground. His white fur was a bright spot among the dark tree trunks, easy to spot even in the dense forest. As always, he began with an intensive search of the area, circling, running into bushes, and probing the ground cover with his nose.
After a while, he calmed down somewhat and shifted to a steady, clearly focused search mode. Yennefer glanced at Triss. She was walking behind her step by step, watching the ground and the dog, but was clearly different. Usually, she would be asking about everything, taking photos and filling the entire space with her personality. Today there was only silence, broken by occasional sighs that Triss tried to hide when she had to push through dense bushes.
Yennefer's concern grew. Had she done something wrong? Had her feelings for Triss become too obvious, creating this distance between them? Or was it something entirely different, unrelated to her?
“Did something happen?” she asked softly, unable to bear the silence any longer.
Triss sighed, as if gathering her thoughts. For a moment, her face looked so open, so vulnerable, that Yennefer held her breath, waiting for an answer. But the moment passed, and Triss's expression closed again, like a book snapping shut.
“I'm tired,” she finally answered, her voice carrying a weight that suggested more than simple fatigue. “It's been a tough week.”
“You could have stayed at the base,” Yennefer noted, though part of her was grateful Triss had come. She studied her face, searching for clues in those familiar features that now seemed somehow distant.
“It's not that kind of tired...” Triss sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I'm mentally tired,” she added, her eyes briefly meeting Yennefer's before darting away. “A walk will do me good.”
For a moment, they stood facing each other, sharing something suspended between them like mist among the trees.
Yennefer swallowed, feeling her heart quicken. Maybe this was the right time to suggest meeting properly? Without rescuers, without an operation, without Ciri. Just the two of them. She knew she should.
“Maybe we could meet and talk?” she suggested, trying to steady her voice despite her dry throat. “I have next week off.”
She caught a strange flash in Triss's eyes, quickly replaced by hesitation.
“There's nothing to talk about,” Triss answered evasively, but after a pause added more quietly, “But we can go for coffee, if you like.”
“I do,” Yennefer said too quickly, then added with gentle concern, “It's strange when you're so quiet. If there's anything I can do for you…”
“You're on a mission. You should focus on work.” Triss maintained a serious tone, but as she spoke the last word, the corner of her mouth curved slightly—a brief crack in her carefully maintained distance. For a moment, her eyes held a flicker of their usual warmth before the guardedness returned.
“Maybe I wanted to gossip,” Yennefer ventured gently, not wanting to let this glimpse of the usual Triss slip away. Triss moved closer, and together they continued after the dog through the forest.
“That would be terribly unprofessional of you, Yennefer,” Triss replied, her voice carrying just a hint of that familiar teasing quality, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Yennefer didn't need to see Triss's face to sense the slight shift in her mood. It wasn't a full return to her usual self, but it was a small crack in the wall she'd built around herself today. Whatever troubled her apparently wasn't entirely about their relationship—or at least not enough to completely override their natural rhythm. But when Yennefer instinctively touched her shoulder as they navigated around a fallen tree, she felt Triss tense slightly, then deliberately relax. This subtle reaction wasn't like her.
The forest grew denser, and the terrain became increasingly challenging. The slope was steep and uneven, riddled with hidden holes and protruding roots. Yennefer often reached out to help Triss in the difficult spots. The journalist wore only sneakers, which slipped on the wet ground cover and stones, and the last thing they needed was two casualties instead of one. Yennefer didn't comment on Triss's footwear, not wanting to add to her burden.
The air grew cooler as the sun began to set. Yennefer looked at her watch. The search had been going on for over two hours. There wasn't much time left until dark, and their sector was only half searched.
Yennefer monitored only her blue sector on the GPS, watching as Pontar left streaks marking his path. When they reached a trail intersection, they took a quick break. She poured water into a bowl for the dog and had a drink herself, offering an extra bottle to Triss. She had a grimace on her face and was pulling her hood up, but Yennefer couldn't help thinking that an annoyed Triss looked the most adorable in the world.
“Cold?” Yennefer laughed.
“Mosquitoes are eating me alive. Don't you have something? Some oil or…”
“The scent might distract the dog.”
She just groaned and took a sip of water, returning the bottle. They moved on, slowly following the dog.
Dusk fell quickly; the dense forest held back the last remnants of light. Yennefer noticed that Triss was keeping closer, almost brushing against her arm, and each time Yennefer felt warmth spreading throughout her body. They pulled out flashlights, trying to illuminate the path better, but the darkness between the trees was impenetrable.
She could now see Pontar mainly thanks to the GPS locator. Only when the dog came closer was his white fur visible in the darkness. As always, as a ghost, flitting between the trees.
With the onset of complete darkness, Triss went from staying close to practically clinging to Yennefer's back. At one point, she grabbed her by the backpack strap, holding on to it like an anchor.
“Are you that scared?” Yennefer asked.
“I'm not scared,” Triss replied in a whisper that betrayed exactly the opposite. “Maybe I just feel like cuddling?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Yennefer felt the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile.
“We're not in any danger, you know that.”
“I know, but my head has its own ideas,” Triss pressed even closer. “Everything seems so… alive. As if monsters were watching us from the darkness.”
“Monsters? Triss, I'm trying to be professional, and you're not making it easy,” Yennefer laughed softly. “Hold on to me, but don't push me into trees, okay?”
“Sorry,” Triss murmured, but didn't loosen her grip one bit.
“Will you tell me what's going on?”
The question hung between them for a moment.
“I'm thinking about something,” she answered evasively. “It's nothing, really.”
“I'm worried.” Yennefer's voice was quiet but firm. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Triss answered too quickly, then added more quietly: “I don't think so.”
“You don't think so?”
“Can we get back to the main path?” Triss changed the subject, looking at the lush undergrowth ahead of them. “Do we have to go through these bushes?”
The forest at night produced sounds that even Yennefer, accustomed to such conditions, found disturbing. The crack of a twig, the rustle of leaves, the hooting of an owl. Everything took on an ominous tone in the darkness.
Suddenly, the radio on Yennefer's shoulder crackled loudly. Triss jumped, letting out a muffled cry, and grabbed Yennefer with both hands, pressing into her back.
“Fuck!” she hissed, then exhaled when she heard the voice on the radio.
Yennefer involuntarily snorted with laughter but quickly grew serious as she listened to the message.
“Central, this is Eskel,” the distorted voice of her colleague broke through the static.
“Go ahead,” they heard Crach's calm voice in response.
“Dog found the missing person, I'll give you more information shortly.”
“Roger.”
Yennefer felt relief, though she was also curious which of the dogs had picked up the trail. She whistled softly to Pontar, calling him to her side and relieving him of search duty. She gave him a treat and water, and attached his leash to her vest. She looked at Triss, who stood nearby, hugging herself. With her hood up and those large, frightened eyes, she looked like a lost child and stirred too many different emotions in Yennefer.
Before she could say anything, the radio crackled again.
“Central to Eskel.”
“Go ahead.”
“Lost man fell from a cliff, he's unconscious and not responding to calls. We need rappelling equipment. Send more people.”
“Understood. From what height is the fall?”
A moment of silence, then:
“I'll call you.”
Those words were enough. Yennefer felt relief turn to heaviness. She knew the procedures—when information was too sensitive to transmit over radio, using the phone usually meant one thing: they'd probably found a body.
“We're heading back,” she said, her voice suddenly devoid of emotion. Pontar stayed close to her left leg, and with her right hand, she reached out to Triss, who immediately nestled against her side.
“What now?” Triss asked quietly, her voice barely audible.
“The rest of the team will rappel down to him and assess the situation. They'll either bring him up or lower him further, depending on the terrain,” she explained, though she felt that Triss guessed the truth.
“He's dead, isn't he?” she whispered.
“I don't know,” said Yennefer, not wanting to stress her further. “We'll find out when we get back.”
The radio came to life again. This time it was Roche, informing them that he was waiting for them on the main trail. Yennefer thanked him and headed in that direction, holding the flashlight in front of her.
The surrounding forest now seemed like an eerie land of shadows and strange sounds. Pontar walked obediently at her heel, and Triss stayed close, as if afraid the forest would swallow her if she lost contact with Yennefer even for a moment.
“Yennefer…” Triss's voice broke the silence.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to them? To where they found the man?”
“No,” she denied. “Nobody called or phoned me. I think Iorveth and Chireadan will handle it. My job in searches is mainly to handle the dog. Technical work isn't my responsibility.”
“I'm glad it wasn't Pontar who found him,” Triss said quietly. “I don't think… I could handle it if…
“I would be with you,” Yennefer interrupted, feeling a sudden need to reassure her. “Whatever happened.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” she answered, feeling Triss tighten her grip on her arm.
“You're always there for me, why?” The question surprised Yennefer, but it sounded so sincere, so vulnerable, that she couldn't help but respond with equal honesty.
“Because I care about you,” she finally said, her heart pounding hard.
Night always made such confessions easier. She felt that Triss wanted to ask something more but changed her mind. Was it possible that she also felt that what was between them had changed? Or was it perhaps Yennefer's fault, that after the vacation she had been a bit different, trying to act normal? Triss surely noticed that.
Damn.
She felt Triss tighten her grip on her hand and move closer. Yennefer wasn't afraid of this forest, but she was glad she didn't have to return alone. Triss hanging onto her and smelling of raspberries was warm and needed. She had to keep a clear mind and stay in control. A fragile Triss in the surrounding darkness could pierce all the weak walls she had built around herself. And this wasn't a good moment.
They hadn't walked far along the trail when finally the lights of the off-road vehicle blinded them from ahead. Both jumped into the back and sat next to each other. Pontar lay down between their feet, and Yennefer secured his leash in a special fastener. Roche shifted gears and began driving downhill; beside him sat Dorien, not saying much.
“Do you know anything more?” Yennefer asked, feeling Triss tense beside her.
“Fatal. The guys are waiting for the police and prosecutor, but they'll probably be waiting a while.” Roche answered without turning around.
“Why?” Triss asked honestly.
“The latter usually don't hurry. Especially if it's night and they have to walk some distance.”
“Okay, I understand.”
On the way, they stopped and picked up two more volunteers. Triss pressed into Yennefer's arm and didn't say anything until they arrived at the unit. She stared at her hands and knees. It hadn't been an easy day for her, but she hadn't expected the search to end this way again.
When they drove into the garage, Yennefer helped her out and told her to go to the duty room. Crach should still be there with another duty rescuer. She had a feeling Triss would be safe with him.
She delegated Pontar to accompany her, as he seemed to have a calming effect on her, while she set about checking the equipment. This was a routine task, as she hadn't used anything except water and dog treats. She checked the backpacks and leash mounts in the vehicle, answering hundreds of questions from the night shift rescuers who were already on site. Then she went to check in with Crach.
When she finished, she returned to the duty room, but Triss wasn't there.
“Philippa invited her to her office,” Crach explained, handing her papers to sign. “Something related to the article about today's operation.”
Yennefer thanked him, filled out the documents, and began to wait. Minutes dragged on like hours, and she kept glancing at the door of Philippa's office. Why was this conversation taking so long? What could they be talking about? Triss looked exhausted, both physically and mentally. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with the unit chief. With her ex.
Yennefer caught herself dozing off in her chair when the office door finally opened. Triss emerged, looking even more tired than before. She approached Yennefer, who tried to look as if she hadn't been anxiously waiting for her.
“You're still here?” Triss asked quietly.
“I wanted to know if everything was okay,” she answered, standing up.
“Yes… I got some guidelines about the article,” she yawned widely. “Philippa is strange. This was the first time I've talked to her since…” she waved her hand. “Never mind. Now I just want to sleep. It's been a terrible day.”
“Go home and rest,” Yennefer said, though deep down she wanted to suggest something entirely else.
Triss nodded and took off Yennefer's fleece.
“Thanks for the jacket,” she said, returning it. “Philippa is upset that I'm wearing your uniforms.”
“She's upset about everything.” Yennefer took the fleece, which now smelled like Triss, and had to restrain herself from pressing it to her face.
“True. Shall we go?”
In the parking lot, they said a brief goodbye. Triss promised to text when she got home, though she didn't live far. Yennefer watched her car disappear into the darkness, then got into her own, letting Pontar in first.
She turned on the music and started driving, but her thoughts weren't on the melody. Triss's behavior troubled her. That reserve, that exhaustion—was it really just about a difficult week? Or had she perhaps sensed the changes in Yennefer's behavior—all those moments when she allowed herself more feelings, more gestures, more glances than she should have?
If her plan so far had been to protect Triss from potential hurt, it seemed to be having the opposite effect. This uncertainty was hurting them both.
Maybe it was time to stop being afraid. To have an honest conversation. To admit what she really felt. But how to do it? How to find words for something she didn't fully understand herself? And what if she was wrong, and Triss's fatigue had nothing to do with her?
Yennefer sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. One thing was certain—she couldn't continue in this limbo any longer. Something had to change. And she had a feeling that she needed to be the one to take the first step.
Sunday, September 8, 7:30 a.m.
Yennefer's house, Zamirath
The morning sunlight woke Yennefer, streaming into the bedroom through the uncovered windows. She wanted to fight it for a while and stay in bed, but her thoughts typically moved very quickly in a dangerous direction. Pontar was already lying beside the bed, staring at her expectantly. She stretched and reached for her phone.
She forced herself to get up and change. The dog was already circling by the door, reminding her that his needs were far more important than her morning dilemmas. She opened the back door, letting him out to run freely around the yard while she made coffee. She wasn't hungry, but grabbed the last of the oatmeal cookies from the refrigerator—unhealthy, but Ciri wasn't there to see.
After calling Pontar back inside and feeding him, she went to change out of her pajamas. There was no rush to pick up Ciri; she wasn't particularly looking forward to another potentially heavy conversation with Geralt, so she preferred to wait until she knew her daughter was awake.
She texted him and decided to draw a hot bath while waiting for his response. She lingered in the warm water, letting it soothe her tense muscles, until she received confirmation that Ciri was up. Only then did she reluctantly leave the comforting warmth, throw on a sweatshirt, and head out to get her daughter.
When she pulled up to his house, Ciri was already sitting on the steps with her backpack, waving energetically. Beside her stood Geralt, arms crossed over his chest with that characteristic half-smile that always spelled trouble.
“Hey,” she said, stepping out of the car.
“Hey, Mom! Dad made pancakes!” Ciri ran up to her and gave her a hug, handing her a takeout box, then immediately ran to the car. “And we're cleaning the pool today, right?”
“Yes, yes, as promised,” she answered, not taking her eyes off Geralt, who was approaching her slowly.
“Made any concrete moves?” he asked quietly, leaning in as Ciri climbed into the car.
“What are you talking about?” she replied, pretending not to understand.
“The doors, Yen. Have you finally walked through this one?” His gaze was penetrating, his smile growing wider.
“I need to go,” she cut him off, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks. “Thanks for the pancakes.”
“Always at your service,” he replied, still smiling. “Call if you need… support.”
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, but the corner of her mouth also twitched in a half-smile.
When they returned home, Ciri immediately raced to the back of the house, where the above-ground pool needed to be dismantled before the approaching autumn.
“Mom, will you help me?” she called, already struggling with the pump cover.
Yennefer set down her phone and headed to the backyard. They unscrewed the drain valve, and water began slowly flowing onto the lawn, creating an ever-expanding puddle.
“This will take forever,” Ciri sighed, watching the slow stream.
“We could always speed it up with buckets,” Yennefer suggested, but Ciri already had another idea.
“Can I play in this water? Please? One last time this year!” Her eyes sparkled with such enthusiasm that Yennefer didn't have the heart to refuse, even though the thermometer on the exterior wall showed barely 19 degrees Celsius.
“Just don't catch a cold,” she said, but Ciri was already pulling off her shirt, remaining in shorts and a tank top.
“It's wonderful!” she shouted, jumping into the water flowing from the pool, which was spreading widely across the lawn. “Oh, a bit cold!”
Pontar immediately joined the fun, running around and jumping with his paws into the water, splashing it everywhere. Yennefer shook her head, but couldn't suppress a smile. Whatever was happening in her life, Ciri always managed to make the world seem simpler.
Surprising herself, Yennefer took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans. She stepped barefoot into the water spreading across the grass, feeling the cold liquid washing over her skin and the wet grass tickling the soles of her feet. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to simply feel—the coolness of the water, the softness of the grass, the warmth of the sun on her face, Ciri's laughter. Lately, she found herself more often allowing such moments. More sensory, more present, more… real.
“Mom, catch him!” Ciri shouted as Pontar, in his joy, shook himself right next to Yennefer, splashing her completely.
Instead of getting angry, Yennefer laughed and chased after the dog, splashing water in all directions.
When the pool was almost empty, they set about dismantling the frame. Over a thousand gallons of water had created an almost small lake on the lawn, which was now slowly soaking into the ground.
“Let's spread it on the driveway to dry,” Yennefer suggested, wiping her wet feet on the dry grass.
Together, they laid out the pool liner, then folded the metal frame. Yennefer noticed that Ciri, despite her childlike enthusiasm for playing in the water, helped efficiently and without complaint.
She was growing into a responsible young person.
“I'm hungry,” Ciri announced when they finished. “Can we make pizza?”
“We can try,” Yennefer agreed.
“I'll take care of everything!” Ciri smiled conspiratorially.
In the kitchen, as they prepared lunch together, Yennefer listened to Ciri's latest stories about school. She listened, commented, and laughed at the appropriate moments, yet her thoughts involuntarily wandered to Triss. How was she feeling after yesterday? Was she still as withdrawn? Maybe she should text, ask…
Her fingers hovered over her phone keyboard when Ciri ran upstairs to change before heading back outside. After a moment's hesitation, she wrote a simple message:
'Hey. How are you feeling today?'
She set down the phone and turned her attention to Ciri, who approached with a book and blanket, clearly planning to read in the hammock. The sun felt pleasantly warm, yet a hint of autumn's crispness lingered in the air. Summer was drawing to a close, taking with it those carefree vacation days.
The phone vibrated.
'Better, thanks. Though I'm afraid I was terrible company yesterday.'
Yennefer smiled at the screen.
'I always enjoy your company.'
She sent the message before she could consider whether it sounded too… significant. Well, too late now. She could clarify later if needed.
The reply came almost immediately:
'Thank you. What are you doing Tuesday morning? Coffee maybe?'
Yennefer's heart beat faster as she sent that message.
'Coffee sounds great.'
They arranged to meet at 9:00 a.m. at a small café downtown, not far from Ciri's school. Yennefer set down her phone with a strange feeling. This wouldn't be just an ordinary meeting between friends. Nothing extraordinary. Only she planned to tell Triss the truth. She wanted to do it, although she still didn't know how.
The rest of Sunday passed with cleaning up the yard and preparing for another week of school. Checking Ciri's backpack, making final adjustments to her outfit, and reviewing what to remember on the first day of the new week.
As Monday came and went in a blur of school routines and household chores, Yennefer found herself rehearsing imaginary conversations in her head. What would she say to Triss? How could she possibly articulate feelings? She drafted and deleted text messages, practiced phrases in her mind, and even considered writing down key points like she was preparing for a presentation rather than a coffee date.
“Just be honest,” she told her reflection at night, before turning away with a frustrated sigh. Honesty was easier said than done when every possible phrasing seemed either too bold or too vague.
Next morning, she'd given up on finding perfect words. Perhaps there weren't any. Some things couldn't be rehearsed—they needed to be felt in the moment. Still, as she selected her outfit with more care than usual and checked her appearance one final time, Yennefer couldn't quiet the rapid beating of her heart.
The “Ard Caffè” was bustling with life despite the early hour. The morning shift of office workers, mothers after dropping their children at school or students with laptops. Everyone seeking their dose of caffeine before starting the day. Yennefer arrived first, choosing a table in the corner, away from the main traffic. She felt her heart quicken at the mere thought of the upcoming conversation.
Triss appeared a few minutes after nine, with her hair tied in a casual bun and a slight smile on her face. Despite the slight delay, she looked as always. Warm and natural. No trace remained of Saturday's exhaustion.
“Hi,” she said, taking the seat across from Yennefer. “Sorry, I decided to walk here, and I think I left too late.”
“Relax, Triss, nothing happened,” said Yennefer, though she had been sitting there for fifteen minutes, trying to organize her thoughts and at one point even wondering if Triss would show up.
The waitress appeared immediately, taking their orders—a double espresso for Yennefer and a latte for Triss. When she left, a brief silence fell.
“I need to apologize for Saturday,” Triss began. “I was awful company. I had…”
“You don't need to apologize,” Yennefer replied, observing her movements. “Everyone has bad days.”
“Yes, but not everyone turns an entire search operation into their personal drama,” Triss smiled crookedly. “Hiding behind you in the forest like a terrified child, and then interrogating you about various things. I was a nightmare partner.”
“You were…” Yennefer hesitated, searching for the right word, one that wouldn't reveal too much. “You were yourself. And that was fine.”
The waitress brought their drinks, momentarily interrupting the conversation. Yennefer was grateful for this—she needed a moment to calm herself. Around them, other conversations flowed, phones rang, and spoons clinked against cups. The ordinary buzz that usually served as background noise now seemed deafening to Yennefer.
This wasn't the right place or moment. Not how she had imagined it.
“How was Ciri's first day of school?” Triss asked, taking her latte in her hands.
“Standard. New schedule, old social dramas,” Yennefer shrugged. “She wants to ride the bus by herself.”
“That's good, isn't it? A sign she's growing up.”
“That's exactly what I'm afraid of,” Yennefer admitted, staring into her cup. “Time flies so fast. Not long ago, she was six and wouldn't leave the house without me, and now? Right away, she's independent, has her own secrets, her own life.”
“But she still needs you,” Triss said reassuringly. “Maybe differently than before, but just as much.”
Yennefer looked up, meeting Triss's gaze. There was something in it, she couldn't decipher—some kind of longing? Uncertainty maybe? For a moment, they sat in silence, not so much awkward as… expectant.
“Triss…” Yennefer began, feeling her throat tighten. Another burst of laughter from the other end of the café caused the words to catch in her throat.
“Yes?”
“I'd like to…” she hesitated, searching for words that wouldn't sound too serious. “Talk with you, just the two of us.”
Triss's eyebrows rose slightly, and her hand, holding the cup, froze halfway to her lips.
“May I ask why?” she asked quietly, her voice neutral, though her eyes revealed more.
Yennefer looked around the café. A couple at the next table was loudly debating some project, the waitress circulated between tables, and a line had formed at the register. Sounds layered upon each other, creating a cacophony that almost physically hurt.
Without warning, a child at a nearby table let out a piercing wail, his ice cream toppling from its cone onto the floor. The sharp sound cut through Yennefer's thoughts like a knife, making her visibly flinch. For a moment, she completely lost her train of thought, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route.
“This might not be the best place,” she said, lowering her voice. “Too much… everything.”
She wanted to say more, but the words tangled in her head. How to explain... everything?
“Mhm,” Triss murmured, watching her carefully.
Yennefer glanced around nervously.
“It's a bit more complicated, could we drink our coffee quickly and go for a walk?” she suggested, sounding more like a plea than a question.
Triss tilted her head, studying her face.
“And who's acting strange now?”
“Oh, stop it, this place is exhausting me.”
“You weren't like this in cafés before,” Triss noted carefully.
“Things change, Triss…” Yennefer hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you. I need your… help. But I can't do it here.”
Triss observed her for a moment, her gaze focused solely on her, as if all the chaos around them didn't exist at all. She slowly put down her cup.
“I can see that it's important,” she said quietly. ”And that's why I think we should wait if you don't want to talk here.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “I need to be at the office in an hour, and I can see you're… overwhelmed. This conversation deserves time and space.”
“Then why did you come at all? If you don't have time?” The words escaped Yennefer's lips more sharply than she intended.
Instead of pulling back, Triss gently placed her hand on hers and caught it just as Yennefer was about to withdraw.
“I have time, Yennefer. For you, always.” She spoke slowly, clearly weighing her words. “But what you want to say… seems too important to discuss when we're both under pressure. I have a deadline, you're clearly anxious.” She pressed her hand more firmly. “Besides, I'll admit honestly that your stress is affecting me too.”
“I'm not stressed,” Yennefer automatically denied, straightening her back.
Triss raised an eyebrow with a gentle smile.
“Well, in that case, I guess I am.” Her voice was gentle, but her eyes didn't leave Yennefer's. “I don't usually see you drumming your fingers on the table, looking around every few seconds, and nearly jumping at every loud sound. I must admit, it's rather… unsettling.”
Yennefer looked at her hands and indeed. Her right hand's fingers were tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. She stopped them mid-motion.
“Oh, I'm sorry, Triss.”
“It's okay,” she replied with a warm smile. “I can wait a few more days.”
“When will you have time?” Yennefer asked, trying to make her voice sound normal.
Triss looked at her calendar on her phone, though her smile suggested she would make room regardless of what she saw there.
“This week is pretty tight,” she said. “Maybe on the weekend? Saturday?”
Yennefer hesitated. The weekend meant Ciri would be home. But on the other hand, she couldn't wait any longer.
“Saturday sounds good,” she finally said. “I just need to figure out what to do with Ciri. Let's meet at my place, okay?”
“Are you sure?” Triss asked, concern appearing in her eyes. “I don't want to disrupt your time together.”
She didn't have a plan for Ciri yet, but she'd surely think of something. Worst case, she could drive her to Crach's. Her daughter would probably want to spend Saturday with Cerys anyway. And if the conversation with Triss somehow went… badly, she could always have the excuse that she needed to pick up her daughter.
“I'm sure,” Yennefer replied with more confidence than she felt. “Ciri's always complaining that she wants to spend the weekend with Cerys, so…”
“In that case… Saturday,” Triss nodded, and her face brightened with that characteristic, warm smile that contrasted so sharply with her behavior during the search. “I think I can wait a little longer.”
Those last words, spoken with a gentle smile, made Yennefer feel both relief and anxiety. As if Triss were talking about something more than just the date of their meeting.
The rest of their meeting passed in seemingly ordinary conversation. Triss talked about the article she was working on. Yennefer listened, asked questions, and commented, but felt that they were both playing roles—pretending everything was normal while something entirely different was bubbling beneath the surface. Every word seemed to have a double meaning.
Yet, there was something soothing about it—in this apparent normalcy, in friendship. As if they both needed this calm before the storm that, they knew, would come on Saturday. At one point, Triss looked at her phone and quickly finished her coffee.
“I have to run,” she said, reaching for her wallet. “We'll see each other on Saturday, right?”
“Yes,” Yennefer confirmed.
They paid and walked out together into the cool morning air. For a moment, they stood facing each other, uncertain how to say goodbye. Finally, Triss stepped forward and lightly embraced Yennefer. It was a brief, friendly hug, but Yennefer felt her heart race from this simple contact and how tense her body was.
“See you later,” Triss said, pulling away quickly. “I'll text before I come over.”
“Good,” replied Yennefer, putting her hands in her pockets to stop herself from touching the spot on her shoulder where Triss's hands had just been.
She watched the journalist walk toward the bus stop, then headed to her car. Only when she sat behind the wheel did she allow herself a deep breath.
Saturday. Four more days. Four days of pretending everything was normal. Four days of planning what she wanted to say. Four days of wondering what Triss would answer.
Four days was simultaneously too long and decidedly too short.
The meeting with Triss left Yennefer in a strange state of limbo. Each time she replayed their conversation in her mind, different details stood out—the way Triss had gently but firmly suggested waiting, how her eyes had softened when their hands touched, that final embrace that felt both too brief and too intimate.
During the days that followed, while Ciri was at school, Yennefer sought refuge in motion. She took Pontar for long runs through the cornfields, watching him bound ahead as she wrestled with the question that haunted her: How much did Triss already suspect? The journalist was perceptive—perhaps she had sensed the change in Yennefer long before Yennefer had recognized it herself. Maybe that's why she'd suggested postponing their talk; maybe she was giving Yennefer an opportunity to reconsider, to retreat safely.
But retreat to what? Back to pretending? To stolen glances and accidental touches that were never really accidental?
Afternoons followed the same-Yennefer busied herself with garden chores. Each task more unnecessary than the last, but all serving the same purpose—distraction. Meanwhile, Ciri did homework, wrote in her diary, or caught the last warm rays of sun in the hammock. Their evenings were filled with cooking together, watching documentaries Ciri needed for school, and quiet reading side by side.
Each night ended the same way. After Ciri fell asleep, Yennefer would lie in bed scrolling through Triss's Instagram, while unbidden thoughts of what could be drifted through her mind. In the cool sheets, her heart would win its eternal war with her brain, leading to intense fantasies and dreams.
On one evening, with Ciri already asleep upstairs, Yennefer sat in the kitchen with a piece of paper. She intended to write down what she wanted to tell Triss, but after fifteen minutes of staring at the blank page, she gave up and instead made a shopping list for Saturday.
Damn.
Friday, September 13, 7:10 a.m.
Yennefer's house, Zamirath
Friday dawned brutally cold. Ciri, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, sat at the table, reluctantly stirring her spoon in a bowl of cereal.
“Mom, can I skip school today? It's just Friday, nothing important happens anyway.”
Yennefer looked at her, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“Sure, why not? You can also skip Monday, Tuesday… Actually, why go back to school at all?”
Ciri rolled her eyes. “Very funny, Mom.”
“Come on, it's just a few hours,” said Yennefer, approaching the table and kissing Ciri on the top of her head. “And then the whole weekend is free. Actually...” She hesitated briefly. “I was thinking, would you like to visit Cerys tomorrow?”
“You're suggesting this yourself? That's suspicious,” Ciri asked, suddenly more interested.
“Not at all.” Yennefer began, but quickly corrected herself. “I think you two could spend some time together, maybe study together.”
“Could I stay overnight? Cerys has a new game and…”
“We'll see,” Yennefer replied, wondering when her daughter had become so clever. “Oh, and before I forget... when is that parent-teacher meeting your teacher mentioned?”
“Next Thursday,” Ciri said, not meeting Yennefer's eyes. “But I told her you probably wouldn't come because of your shifts.”
“But I'm on nights next week, so I'm available,” Yennefer countered.
Ciri shrugged, staring into her bowl of cereal.
“I know you don't like those things. It's about some field trip for us and...”
“Maybe I could help this time,” Yennefer replied, surprising herself.
Ciri's eyes widened. “Would you really go?”
“I'll find the time.” Yennefer smiled, seeing her daughter's face light up with joy.
“Cerys says this trip is going to be a surprise for us,” Ciri added, somewhat conspiratorially. “Will you tell me what the teacher tells you?”
“If it's a surprise, of course I won't.”
“Will I have to bribe Dad?”
Yennefer just nodded with a smile, but she could see in Ciri's eyes that she already had a plan to find out everything.
“Finish your breakfast now. We're leaving soon.”
After dropping Ciri at school, she drove straight to the store. Sitting in traffic while listening to her favorite music, Yennefer used the time to reconsider what she would tell Triss. She wanted to be honest. She wanted to confess what she felt. But was it too soon? Was she risking destroying everything? On the other hand, she couldn't bear this suspension, this uncertainty between them any longer.
Shopping took more time than she had planned. Standing in front of the cookie shelf, she spent a good while wondering which ones Triss liked best. Raspberry? Chocolate? Or maybe those with sprinkles? Finally, she took one package of each kind, but still found it difficult to focus on the task at hand.
It was the same with coffee, tea, and even snacks. Each time she was about to put something in her cart, she wondered if Triss would like it. This wasn't supposed to be a date, she reminded herself, but still wanted everything to be perfect.
When she turned into her driveway, it was already past ten. The last rays of the morning sun were breaking through the clouds, casting golden reflections on the cornfields behind her house.
She turned off the engine and sat for a moment in silence, listening. She didn't even know what she was listening for, but she felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Something was wrong.
When she finally got out of the car, the silence hit her like a physical force. Normally at this moment she would already hear Pontar—his barking, the sound of heavy footsteps as he ran, or at least his characteristic whining with joy when she returned.
But now there was nothing.
Yennefer forced herself to take a few steps toward the backyard.
Maybe he's sleeping…
But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. Pontar always heard her car. Always. Even before she turned into the driveway, he would already be waiting by the gate, his white fur visible from a distance and his tail wagging so enthusiastically that his entire body seemed to dance.
“Pontar?” she called, and her voice sounded unusually loud.
Silence.
She knew she had left him outside; he had access to his kennel, and maybe… maybe he was inside? No… He wasn't there. She felt it like a physical absence, as if part of herself had disappeared, or… been taken?
Instead of going inside, she turned and walked quickly around the house to the backyard. Her heart began to accelerate.
“Pontar!” she called again, this time louder, more firmly.
No response.
The backyard was empty. The water bowl untouched, toys scattered as always, a large chew toy lying next to the kennel he rarely used, preferring to sleep in the house or in the shade under the willow tree.
“Pontar, come!” Her voice became sharper.
She whistled piercingly on her fingers. A special signal he had learned as a puppy, which meant immediate return, regardless of circumstances.
Nothing.
And then she saw it—the gate at the back of the garden, slightly ajar. The one that led to the fields behind the house, to the dirt roads. Where they ran together. A gate she secured with a small chain and a sturdy carabiner.
A gate that now stood open.
The world seemed to sway beneath her feet. She ran to the gate, feeling each step harder than the previous one, as if she were pushing through a dense fog. Beyond the gate stretched a small strip of grass, then a dirt road, and further on a field of tall, mature corn—a wall of golden-green stalks, high enough to hide anything—or anyone.
“Pontar!” she shouted, her voice breaking on the second syllable.
She stepped beyond the gate, looking around frantically. There were no tracks, no clues. Nothing but silence, the overcast sky, and the golden cornfield.
“Fuck,” she muttered to herself. “This is impossible.”
A rescue dog doesn't run away. It's trained to always return. Pontar had undergone hundreds of hours of training, tests, simulations. He knew the return command and always came back, responding to whistles, hand signals. There was no scenario in which he would simply leave.
But he was also a dog. He had instincts. Maybe after the vacation, after being absent from work, after a change in routine… No, that wasn't possible. Even after return from vacation, he had behaved normally. He was obedient, balanced, and calm as always.
The gate. She went back to it, examining the closure. The chain and carabiner. And a simple latch. Could Pontar have opened it himself? No, there was no chance, but maybe she hadn't closed it properly after their last run. It was unlikely, but she needed a logical explanation.
Or maybe it was neighborhood kids? A joke? A prank? But it was the school year, and the weather was awful, not the time for children wandering around the village. Had she definitely closed the gate?
Or maybe not? Maybe in her rush, with thoughts of Ciri, of Triss, and everything that had happened recently, she had forgotten to close it?
At that moment, icy panic began to climb up her spine. Her mind always worked like a precise mechanism, every gear in its place, every thought ordered. But now she felt that order crumbling, replaced by the primitive fear.
She returned to the yard, ran a few steps in one direction, then another, calling Pontar's name over and over. She checked all his favorite spots, examined every corner of the garden, every nook where he might hide.
Nothing.
She started running again. First along the dirt road behind the house, then cutting across the meadow. She stopped every few dozen meters, calling and whistling, listening to the terrifying silence that echoed back to her.
“Pontar! Heel! Now!”
Her voice spread across the fields, fading into the distant forest.
She returned to her car, breathing heavily. She felt sweat running down her back, her shirt sticking unpleasantly to her skin. Hot. Why was it suddenly so hot? The day had been cool, autumn was approaching…
She leaned heavily against the back of the car, feeling herself trembling all over. Her heart was beating so hard, she feared it would jump out of her chest. Her breathing became shallow, broken.
Don't panic, she commanded herself. Don't panic. Think logically.
But logic was failing her. Pontar couldn't have escaped. He couldn't. Yet, he was gone.
It was her fault.
With trembling hands, she took out her phone. Her fingers wouldn't cooperate; twice she mistyped her PIN. Finally, she managed to unlock the screen and dial the number.
Triss answered after the second ring.
“Hey, what's up? Missing me already?” There was a smile in her voice, a light tone that at any other moment would have made Yennefer's heart beat faster for an entirely different reason.
“Pontar is gone,” said Yennefer, and her voice sounded foreign, tense, high, as if it belonged to someone else.
Silence on the other end.
“What do you mean, he's gone?” asked Triss, immediately serious.
“He's not here. I came home, and he's not here. The back gate is open.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “Triss… he ran away. But that's impossible. He never…”
“I'm coming to you,” Triss said immediately. “I'll be there in twenty minutes. Check with the neighbors, maybe someone saw something. Call the police and veterinarians. I'll call the shelter and the foundation, ask if a found dog has been reported.”
Practical advice, concrete actions.
This was exactly what Yennefer needed. Something to focus on instead of drowning in panic.
“Okay,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I'll do that.”
She hung up and for a moment sat motionless, forcing herself to breathe. Pontar was her life. Her partner. The best friend who had been with her when she felt most alone.
Who had been with her when she started feeling something for Triss?
She moved with effort and headed toward the house of the elderly lady who lived on the left, trying to regulate her breathing, attempting to look normal. She knocked on the door for a good two minutes before hearing slow footsteps on the other side. The elderly woman opened the door, squinting through thick glasses.
“Yennefer, dear? Is something wrong?”
“My dog ran away,” she said, trying to speak slowly and clearly. “Pontar. Do you remember him?”
The older woman frowned.
“The big white one? Of course, I remember. Lovely creature. But no, I haven't seen him today. Actually, I rarely go to the back of the house.”
Yennefer thanked her and moved to the next neighbor—a luxury villa on the right side, whose enormous brick wall effectively separated their properties. She rang the intercom for several minutes, but no one answered. They had probably gone away for the weekend, as they often did.
She returned to the driveway, to her car, feeling all energy leaving her. Once again, she slid to the ground, her back against the wheel of the Volvo. She pulled her knees up to her chin, gripping her hair.
Nobody knew anything. Nobody had seen anything.
That thought was like a punch to the stomach. She felt her breathing become even shallower, tears welling in her eyes, blurring her vision.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, which she didn't even try to stop. She hadn't cried when Geralt left. She hadn't cried when she had to move to a new house, start a new life. But now? Now she cried as if something inside her had broken, as if a dam had burst, releasing everything she had suppressed for so long.
Then suddenly, the tears stopped. Her breathing steadied to something unnaturally shallow. She sat completely still, staring at her knees, her body rigid like a statue. The chaos in her mind seemed to crystallize into something cold and vast—a silent, paralyzing panic that didn't need gasps or sobs. She was present and yet completely disconnected, her thoughts trying desperately to make sense of what couldn't be processed. Time stretched around her like an endless void, while nothing penetrated the perfect stillness of her exterior.
Pontar. Her dog. Her partner. Her responsibility.
Her fault.
The front of the property secured like a fortress. And the back? A chain with a carabiner? A carabiner might secure her to a wall during climbing, but it couldn't help in a situation like this. It was her goddamn enormous fault.
She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there. Minutes? Quarter hours? Time had lost meaning, everything melting into one blurry image of terror and helplessness.
Only the sound of an approaching car pulled her from this state. Triss's red car stopped at the closed entrance gate. For a moment, Yennefer saw her through the fence pickets—her red hair tied in a messy ponytail, a black tracksuit she must have thrown on in a hurry and which didn't suit her at all. She seemed unreal, unbelievable, like an apparition from another world.
“Yennefer!” Triss called, her voice carrying across the yard. When Yennefer didn't move, didn't respond, Triss's concern visibly intensified. “Yennefer! Can you hear me? Let me in!”
The urgency in Triss's voice finally penetrated the frozen shell around her. Yennefer blinked once, twice, her mind struggling to connect the image before her with reality. She could see Triss's lips moving, could hear the sound, but the meaning took longer to register. It was as if her brain had to rebuild all the connections between sight, sound, and understanding.
With movements that felt mechanical and foreign, she reached into her pocket for the gate remote. Her fingers seemed disconnected from her will, clumsy and numb, as if they belonged to someone else. She pressed the button, watching with detached curiosity as the gate began its slow arc inward.
Triss didn't wait. She abandoned her car where it stood in the driveway. She sprinted through the opening gap before the gate had even finished moving, her focus entirely on Yennefer.
In seconds, she was kneeling before her, but Yennefer still couldn't fill the gap between seeing Triss and truly feeling her presence. It was like watching someone through glass, present but untouchable.
“Yen,” Triss's voice was soft but insistent as she searched Yennefer's face, clearly alarmed by what she saw there. When Yennefer didn't respond, Triss gently took her face between her hands, her touch warm against Yennefer's cold skin. “Yen, look at me. Come back. Breathe. You need to breathe.”
The physical contact was like an electric shock, sudden and jolting. Yennefer gasped, air rushing into lungs that had forgotten how to work properly. The world came rushing back with disorienting speed—sounds sharper, colors brighter, sensations overwhelming. She felt the dampness on her cheeks, the painful tightness in her chest, the warmth of Triss's palms against her face.
“Triss,” she managed, her voice sounding strange to her own ears, cracked and foreign.
Relief flooded Triss's expression.
“Yes, I'm here. Stay with me.” Her thumbs gently wiped at the tear tracks on Yennefer's cheeks. “Breathe with me, okay? Inhale. And exhale. Inhale. And exhale.”
Triss moved her hands from Yennefer's face to grip her hands instead, squeezing them firmly, like an anchor in a sea of chaos. The pressure was grounding, real in a way nothing else had felt since she'd discovered Pontar missing.
“We'll find him,” she said, her gaze conveying the same with equal certainty. “Do you hear me? We'll find Pontar. But first, you need to breathe.”
Yennefer focused on her face, on the freckles scattered across her nose, on the blue eyes that looked at her with such certainty. Slowly, with difficulty, her breathing began to stabilize.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
“It's my fault,” she whispered when she could finally speak. “That damn gate… just a carabiner… How could I…”
“Stop,” Triss interrupted her firmly. “It's not your fault. Do you hear me? It is not your fault.”
Yennefer looked at her, seeing in her eyes the strength she so desperately needed. Triss pulled her close, embracing her tightly, and Yennefer allowed herself to sink into that embrace, into the warmth and certainty she felt radiating from Triss.
“We'll find him,” Triss repeated, her lips near Yennefer's ear. “I promise you. We'll find Pontar. I'm here with you, do you hear me? I'm here, and I won't leave you.”
And for the first time since returning home, Yennefer felt a tiny spark of hope breaking through the darkness of fear. She tightened her hands on Triss's sweatshirt and took another breath. The way Triss held her, the conviction in her voice. It reached places inside Yennefer that had been closed off for years. In this moment of absolute vulnerability, she found herself trusting completely.
She wasn't alone anymore.
Chapter 18
Notes:
A bit of a delay, but I still managed to get this translated before the end of the week!
As always, the chapter turned out way too long... which is why it took me a little longer than planned.
I did consider splitting it into two parts, but I couldn’t do that to you! 💜
Especially since I hear you like long chapters. :DSo I won’t keep you, go ahead and dive in! 🤍
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Morning light slipped through the clouds, casting pale beams across the kitchen as Yennefer paced the house like a caged panther. Her movements were sharp, almost military, and made the atmosphere even tenser. By now, she knew every inch of the kitchen, hallway, and living room floor by heart.
Still nothing. No trace. No answers. No sound. Except the constant, torturous buzz of Triss’s phone.
Triss sat on the living room floor, back against the wall, phone in hand, a charger cable stretched from the outlet to her knees. She was tireless—posting updates, replying to comments, combing through local Facebook groups. This was what she did best: bringing order to chaos through social media. It was her element, her battlefield.
Yennefer knew it. But she couldn’t thank her for it. Not right now.
The kitchen had turned into a makeshift command center. Yennefer’s aging laptop displayed an app with little blips—people out in the field. People who were doing something. People who weren’t stuck inside, pacing the floor like she was.
Just a few hours ago, everything had been normal. She dropped Ciri off at school and ran some errands. She left Pontar in the yard like always.
When she got home, the gate was open. And he was gone.
Triss had shown up within minutes of Yennefer’s panicked call, calm and efficient, instantly taking charge of the search effort. She’d reassured her that her social media reach would make a difference, then told her to call everyone they knew who could help.
Yennefer had called Philippa first. She promised to take care of the paperwork and gave her the day off, saying they’d sort everything else out later. It gave Yennefer a sliver of relief; at least the official side of things was under control. Philippa couldn’t involve any on-duty teams, but she suggested that off-shift rescuers might be able to help unofficially.
Yennefer sent a message to their team group chat. The response was immediate. Rescuers started organizing without hesitation.
The police, when they finally arrived, were far less helpful. Dogs run off sometimes, they said. It wasn’t a priority. Their apathy only fueled Yennefer’s anger. She knew they wouldn’t be this dismissive if Pontar were just a pet. He was a trained rescue dog. He was one of them.
The vet, on the other hand, had been a godsend. She’d known Pontar since he was a puppy and was, in Yennefer’s eyes, the best in the region. When Triss took over the search coordination, Yennefer had called her. Shani had answered immediately, concerned and focused. She promised to alert all the vets in the area and made it clear Yennefer could call her anytime, even in the middle of the night. If Pontar needed care, she’d be there—or come to him. That level of dedication had hit Yennefer hard, in the best way.
But the police had just taken the report, scribbled some notes, and said they’d keep an eye out. That was it.
So it was up to their people.
In less than half an hour, her driveway was full of cars. Volunteers. Friends. Her team. And now, Yennefer coordinated it all from home. The frustration and helplessness sparked beneath her skin like static, making everything unbearable.
Everyone knew a rescue dog didn’t just wander off without a reason. If Pontar had left on his own, he wouldn’t have gone far. He’d be within a few kilometers, max. But if someone had taken him…
No one wanted to say that out loud. They just wanted to find him.
He wasn’t just a dog. He was one of them.
Dorien had pointed out that even the best-trained dogs sometimes gave in to instinct. If there was a female in heat nearby, Pontar might’ve picked up her scent. Everyone hoped that was all it was.
They split up quickly. Cyclists covering the forest paths and narrow trails, Eskel on his motorcycle scouting the fields and back roads, others checking ditches, farms, and nearby villages by car. They would cover as much ground as possible.
When Yennefer asked what she could do, Triss gently touched her shoulder and suggested she stay home.
Wait for Pontar. Be ready. Stay on standby.
That’s when she exploded. Just thinking about that earlier confrontation made her stomach tighten again. The memory of the confrontation with her colleagues slammed into her. They'd all stood in her kitchen, ready to help, thinking the same thing—but only Eskel had dared to say it aloud.
“No, Yennefer. You’re not coming with us.”
His voice was calm but firm. The kind of tone he used during operations. She froze mid-motion, her hand still reaching for the sweatshirt she’d tossed over a chair. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re kidding, right? I’m the best on the team. And it’s my dog.”
“Exactly,” Eskel replied, crossing his arms and stepping into the hallway, blocking her path to the door. “And tell me honestly. Would you send someone out in your current emotional state?”
They stared at each other, locked in a silent battle. She was the first to look away. Her gaze drifted over to the others. No one said a word. No one had to. They all knew the answer.
“Right now,” Eskel continued, breaking the silence, “you’re not the search lead. You’re not the rescuer. You’re the one who needs support, like anyone else in this situation. We’ve got this, Yen. You know us.”
“So what, I just sit here and do nothing?” she shot back, her voice rising with frustration.
“No. You coordinate. You monitor the maps. You stay here in case Pontar comes back. You think clearly while we’re out there. Trust me, this is the most important role right now.”
She turned slightly, avoiding his eyes, her arms crossing over her chest like armor.
And she hated it.Hated that he was right. Hated that Triss agreed with him without even needing to say a word.
In the end, everyone else left. And she stayed behind with Triss, pacing and seething and fighting the unbearable feeling that sitting still was the same as giving up.
But she hadn’t given up. She couldn’t. This was Pontar.
Almost two hours had passed. Through the kitchen window, Yennefer could see the line of cars still crowding the driveway. Some had pulled up onto the lawn, but she didn’t care. None of it mattered. Nothing that didn’t bring her closer to finding Pontar.
“Anything new?” she asked suddenly, her voice too sharp, the words grinding like glass between her teeth.
Triss looked up from her phone. Calm. Too calm.
“More shares and responses. Someone messaged from Aeldorn, but it’s not him. This dog has a black spot on its back.”
She frowned slightly, that little crease between her brows, Yennefer had seen a hundred times before. Usually, when something wasn’t going her way. Triss didn’t have to say much. Her face always gave her away.
A new wave of vibrations and message alerts made Yennefer’s whole body tense up. Her jaw locked. Her chest felt too tight.
“Oh, just got something,” Triss added, sitting straighter. “Someone saw a dog like him at the gas station by the bypass.”
“That’s ten minutes from here,” Yennefer said immediately, already heading for the hallway. “I’m going.”
“Wait.”
Triss stood, glancing quickly at the laptop. “I’ll ping Crach. He’s closest, he can get there in minutes.”
Yennefer stopped mid-step, fists clenched at her sides. That rising mix of helplessness and fury burned in her throat.
“I should be there. If Pontar’s scared, he’ll respond to me.”
“And what if he comes back here while you’re gone?” Triss looked at her over the edge of the screen. “We’re working in sectors. We’ve got a plan. Let’s not unravel it now.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Yennefer snapped, spinning around. “Sitting there with your phone like this is some kind of strategy game, coordinating everything while I…”
Triss’s expression changed instantly, turned to stone. She straightened up slowly and looked Yennefer in the eye.
“Listen to me,” she said, her voice calm, but edged with something sharp. Something Yennefer had never heard from her before. “I know you’re scared. I know you feel helpless. But I won’t let you take it out on me. I’m not sitting here drinking your coffee and ignoring my responsibilities for… fun. Seriously? I’m trying my best to help you find your dog.”
Yennefer stepped back, stunned. Triss had never raised her voice like that to her. Never spoken to her with that much certainty.
“Go, if you think you can do it better. If that’s what you need, then go. But I’m done. I’m not staying here just to be your punching bag.”
Triss crossed her arms, and Yennefer froze at the determined look on her face. The anger that had been eating at her a moment ago started to fade.
Now she felt foolish, ashamed. This wasn't Triss's fault. Again, she took out her emotions on someone who didn't deserve it. She was the one who couldn't handle waiting, uncertainty. Handle anything lately.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, moving back into the kitchen and sinking into a chair by the island. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t know what to do, Triss.”
Triss sighed and rubbed her face with both hands before sitting down beside her.
“I know, Yen. I do. But this isn’t the time to tear each other apart. We’re all trying. We care about him. And we care about you. The best thing you can do right now is be here. Be ready. With me.”
She placed a gentle hand on Yennefer’s shoulder, rubbing lightly in quiet reassurance.
“It’s my damn fault,” Yennefer whispered, resting her forehead in her hands. “I must’ve left the gate open after our run. He wouldn’t have opened it himself… but why would he leave? He’s smarter than that.”
“We don’t know what happened,” Triss said gently. “Remember what Dorien said? Something might’ve distracted him. Don’t blame yourself. Let’s just focus on getting him home.”
Yennefer nodded slightly, silent.
For a while, they just sat there. Yennefer’s eyes drifted from the map on the table to the blinking laptop screen, then to the endless thread of updates on her phone. Triss went back to her own device, replying to messages, checking locations. Time passed, heavy and slow.
Triss sighed at one point, heavy with thought.
“Yen, I need to run home for a bit.”
Yennefer lifted her head slowly. A chill ran down her spine, which was irrational, but real.
“I can’t keep up with all these messages just on my phone,” Triss explained. “I need my laptop, yours is barely hanging on with the map open. And I’ve got tons of Pontar’s photos on my drive, it’ll be faster.”
Yennefer nodded, silent.
“I’ll also print some posters, okay?” Triss said as she got up, slipping her phone into her sweatpants pocket. “The more people who see his photo, the better. Maybe Ciri can help hang them if she'd like to…”
“Oh, fuck… I have to pick her up.”
“What time does she get out?” Triss glanced at her watch.
“Two.”
“I’ll be back before then,” Triss promised. “I can pick her up on the way, if that helps.”
Yennefer stood and shook her head.
“That won’t work. They won’t release her to someone they don’t know.” She let out a long breath, raking her fingers through her hair. “But I’ve got it, Triss. Really. Go ahead and look around… Please.”
“I’ll be quick, I promise.”
Triss grabbed her keys from the table and headed out.
Triss took the keys from the table and left. Now that Yennefer was alone again, she felt the familiar sense of panic spreading up her back. She took a deep breath in and out, opened the terrace door, letting cold air into the house. She began pacing around the apartment again, in a senseless motion.
She could just leave. Get in the car. Join one of the search groups. Do something concrete instead of sitting here waiting. She approached the door but hesitated. Ultimately, she just hit it with her fist, turned around, and leaned her back against it.
But what if Pontar came back? What if one of the neighbors brought him home and no one was there? What if he needed immediate veterinary help?
Eskel was right. Triss was right. Everyone was right. She had to stay here, even if it was killing her inside.
She returned to the kitchen, where the maps and laptops spread out reminded her of the duty room at their unit today. She leaned over the map, marking another searched sector with a red marker according to new messages from Dorien and Coën. Then she slumped into a chair. She still couldn't fully believe everything was really happening.
Sitting in silence for more minutes, she finally forced herself to act. The phone felt heavy in her hand as she dialed Geralt's number. She hadn't even thought to call him earlier. He was on duty, but maybe he had a free moment. He answered immediately.
“Yen? Everything okay?”
“Pontar’s missing,” she said flatly. “I dropped Ciri at school, went shopping, came back… and he was gone.”
A pause. Then a quiet curse.
“Do you need help? I’m on duty until eight, but I can try to…”
“No,” she cut him off. “It’s about Ciri. I don’t know how long this will take. And I don’t know how she’s going to handle it.”
“It will be hard,” he said, his voice was lower now. “But I can take her for the night. That way you can focus. Or rest, if you need to.”
“You’re sure?”
“You know I am. I’ll come right after my shift.”
“Thanks. Really,” Yennefer said, and for the first time today, she felt something close to relief.
“I’ll also let the guys know. They’re out on the roads all day, maybe they’ll spot something. Just keep me posted, okay?”
“I will,” she whispered, and hung up.
Right away, she called Crach’s wife next. It was hard, she hated asking for help, but right now, she didn’t have another option.
“Yennefer? How are things?” Seren’s voice was warm but worried.
“Still no trace,” Yennefer said, trying to keep it brief. “Could you pick up Ciri from school? I hate asking. I’ll owe you, I just…”
“Of course,” Seren said without hesitation. “I was already thinking about it. I'll grab both girls. Maybe we'll be able to help somehow.”
“She’s going to be anxious,” Yennefer warned. “Difficult.”
“We’ll manage,” Seren said firmly. “You take care of finding the dog. And remember, if a mother doesn’t help another mother in a moment like this, who will?”
A warmth bloomed in Yennefer’s chest. Amid all the chaos, that simple, quiet solidarity felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds.
“Thank you. Really.”
“No problem at all. I’ll bring Ciri after school, and we’ll see how she’s doing.”
Yennefer ended the call and checked the group messages. Still nothing concrete.
She got up and headed for the coffee machine. She knew she’d drink way more than she should today.
***
Some time passed before Yennefer heard a car pull into the yard.
Triss.
A breath escaped her chest before she even realized she’d been holding it. The second the door opened, the weight on her shoulders eased, just a little.
Triss came in without knocking, a sports bag slung over one shoulder and a large poster tube in hand. She had changed clothes, for something more practical than stylish, but still unmistakably Triss. She smiled when she saw her, a tired, soft smile full of concern.
“Any news?” Triss asked.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Nothing solid, but…” Triss raised the poster tube slightly. “I’ve got flyers.”
She looked around and motioned toward the small table in the corner.
“Can I set up there?”
“Of course,” Yennefer said quickly. “I called Geralt and Seren, they’ll help with Ciri.”
“That’s good,” Triss nodded, placing the bag on the floor. “We need to keep working from every angle.”
Yennefer watched her for a moment, brows drawn together.
“I don't understand why everyone's so willing to help,” she said quietly.
“People understand how important this is,” Triss said simply, pulling rolled posters from the tube. “And besides, they care about you, that shouldn't surprise you, Yen.”
The posters were bright and professional: a large, clear photo of Pontar, bold text, all the right details. Triss laid one out on the table.
Yennefer saw his face, his familiar brown eyes, and had to bite her lip. She looked away, focusing instead on Triss as she unzipped the sports bag and began unpacking: a laptop, a tablet, extra cables, chargers.
She moved efficiently, setting up her gear on the low table. Instead of the couch, she dropped onto the floor, sitting cross-legged like she had earlier. It was strangely grounding to watch her—so steady, so focused, fingers already flying over the keyboard with that fast, rhythmic clicking sound.
“This will make it easier to keep track of everything... groups, messages, locations. The tablet’s great for on-the-go checks if we need to drive somewhere quickly.”
Yennefer stayed quiet, observing every movement. There was something reassuring in the way Triss worked. She created order in the chaos. Not by force, but with presence. With care.
She couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Thank you,” Yennefer said softly, stepping closer. “For everything you’re doing.”
Triss looked up. Her blue eyes were shining, just a little.
“Anything for you, Yennefer.”
Yennefer nodded, swallowing hard as something tightened in her throat. She hated showing weakness. Hated being the one who needed help. But this, this small surrender, this moment of letting Triss take over, was the first time all day she’d felt like she could breathe.
She sat down on the edge of the couch, watching Triss from above.
“Seren, umm Crach's wife, wants to help. Maybe she could take Ciri and Cerys out to hang the posters?”
“That’s actually a great idea.”
“I’m scared of how she’ll react,” Yennefer admitted, meeting Triss’s gaze. She slid off the couch and sat beside her on the floor. “I’m barely keeping it together… and she loves that dog.”
“She’ll have support,” Triss said, gently patting Yennefer’s knee. Then she pulled her hand back and returned to the keyboard. “And Ciri’s strong. She’ll probably do everything in her power to help. If it gets to be too much for her, I’ll step in. If that’s what you want.”
“Of course I want that, Triss,” Yennefer said. Then added, even more quietly:
“I need you. You know that.”
***
Around three o’clock, a large car rolled slowly through the open gate, barely squeezing between the others in the crowded driveway. Yennefer tore herself away from the laptop and moved toward the hallway. With every step, her anxiety climbed higher. She had a difficult task ahead of her—talking to her daughter.
She glanced quickly at Triss, who gave her a quiet, focused look, and stepped outside. Ciri and Cerys climbed out of the car, both unusually quiet, their usual spark completely gone. Seren followed behind, carrying Ciri’s backpack.
“Mom!”
Ciri spotted her and ran straight into her arms, hugging her with all her strength.
“Is it true? Did Pontar run away?”
Yennefer wrapped her tightly in her arms, her throat tightening painfully.
“Yes, sweetheart. Everyone’s out looking for him.”
Ciri pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. Her face was pale, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes shining with held-back tears. She looked like a very little child trying very hard not to fall apart.
Inside the house, Triss greeted them softly and gestured toward the table, where stacks of printed flyers were laid out. Posters of Pontar.
Ciri stopped in the middle of the room, her gaze immediately landing on the empty dog bed. She walked toward it slowly, wordlessly. Then she kneeled beside it, placed her hand on the fabric, and picked up his favorite toy—a worn-out plush capybara she had bought him on a school trip.
“It’s his favorite,” she said softly, in a voice far too quiet and far too grown-up.
The kind of voice that shattered everyone in the room.
She sat down inside the bed, holding the toy against her chest, clutching it like it anchored her to something real. She didn’t move. Just curled there, still and silent. The same way Yennefer had frozen earlier that morning, sitting next to her car.
It was a haunting image.
Yennefer glanced at Triss again. Her friend was watching with pain written across every line of her face. Yennefer moved to her daughter’s side, kneeling slowly. She noticed Ciri’s black hoodie was already covered in white fur.
She didn’t scold her. She felt just as helpless as that little girl.
“Where is he, Mom?” Ciri’s voice trembled. “Is he cold? Is he looking for us? Do you think he’s tracking your scent? Maybe he’s hungry…”
Yennefer pressed her lips together, eyes burning. She couldn’t lie to her. She’d been asking herself the same questions since morning.
“I don’t know, Ciri,” she said gently, placing her hands on her daughter’s knees, stroking them softly. “But everyone’s doing their best to find him. He’s a smart dog. He knows how to survive out there. Dorien thinks maybe he picked up the scent of a female dog and… got distracted.”
“I want to look for him too,” Ciri whispered, squeezing the toy even tighter. “If he hears my voice…”
She didn’t finish. Her words broke into sobs. Tears flowed down her cheeks, stopping the rest of her words. Yennefer pulled her close, embracing her tightly. Tightening her arms around her daughter, giving her the secure feeling of being held.
No one said anything; time stopped in the room, and now there was only Ciri and her crying. Honest and full of pain, full of fear and all the difficult emotions. Yennefer herself discreetly wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“Ciri,” she said after a moment, breaking the silence.
“I'm sorry, I didn't want to cry,” the girl stammered.
“Crying is okay, remember,” she moved her slightly away and held her face, looking into her eyes. “I'm worried and sad too, it's normal, Ciri.”
“I want to help, Mom.”
“We have posters. Maybe, you can go with Cerys's mom and hang them up wherever you can?”
“Really?” she asked, looking hopefully at the woman who stood with her hands on Cerys's shoulders.
“Yes,” Seren said calmly. “We'll take as many as we can and drive around the area, what do you think?”
“Come on, Ciri,” Cerys said quietly. “We'll find him.”
Ciri nodded, still clutching the toy.
Yennefer saw it again. That contrast. Her daughter was so brave, and so heartbreakingly fragile at the same time. They stood together, and Yennefer kept rubbing her arm gently. Triss stepped forward and handed Seren the tube of posters. She also gave her a roll of tape and a few extra shirts. Everything was ready.
“Sweetheart, do you want to change first?” Yennefer asked softly, glancing at the white fur all over her hoodie.
Ciri looked down at her clothes, like she was noticing them for the first time.
“No,” she said quietly, but firmly. “I want… part of Pontar to be with me. While I look for him.”
Seren gave Yennefer a quick wave that said, ‘Don’t worry.’ She clearly wasn’t bothered by the dog hair in her car.
“Maybe I’ll take the girls out for dinner after we’re done hanging flyers,” she offered gently.
Yennefer nodded, her eyes filled with silent gratitude.
“Can we go now?” Ciri asked, her voice small. “The sooner we start, the better.”
Yennefer kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll be right here when you get back,” she promised. “And I’ll let you know if anyone sends news.”
Ciri gave her another quick hug, then walked to the door. Cerys wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they left together.
“I’ll take care of her,” Seren said, grabbing her keys and the posters. “We’ll grab some burgers too, make sure they eat something real.”
“Thank you,” Yennefer said, and her voice carried more than just the words.
It carried all the weight of the day, and all the quiet gratitude she couldn’t find a way to name. When the door closed behind them, Yennefer stood still for a moment, staring at nothing. She felt torn—part of her wanted to run after her daughter, be with her, comfort her. Another part knew she had to stay here while Ciri needed movement, action. She was glad she had Cerys with her. Now she understood what it meant to have a true friend by your side. As she thought about it, her friend appeared beside her, gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Holding up?” she asked.
“I don’t have a choice,” Yennefer answered, offering a tired, bitter smile.
“Ciri handled that better than I expected.”
“It’s just a mask,” Yennefer said, turning to her. “It’ll hit harder tonight. She’s barely holding it together as it is.”
They looked at each other, sharing the same unspoken fear. Then, wordlessly, they returned to the table. The maps. The screens. The messages.
Work was all they could do now. Time kept moving. And with every hour, Yennefer’s frustration only grew.
***
It was getting dark, twilight falling faster than on sunny days. Yennefer looked at her watch, something she'd been doing reflexively all day, yet still couldn't tell what time it was. She heard the sound of a car again, turned on the porch light, and prepared herself for the evening and all its emotions. Triss immediately stood up from the laptop, as if wanting to give the family space. She moved to the kitchen, where she began checking messages on her phone while leaning against the counter.
During this entire time, they'd had nothing concrete. A few photos of dogs, but none were Pontar. Two potential sightings south of Montecalvo, unconfirmed, but offering hope. They immediately sent Crach and Coën there. Despite this, most messages were supportive.
People wrote that they wanted to help, several teenagers had formed a group and were riding bikes through the forests looking for traces of the dog. There were also cyclists who sent routes they planned to take with a focus on finding the dog. The engagement was tremendous, and Triss's social media outreach had accomplished far more than Yennefer's small rescue team could have. For a moment, she even felt she had failed again. On a different level, but Triss's understanding and empathy didn't allow her to remain in that hopeless state for long. She couldn't manage without her. This thought appeared in her mind constantly. It was the truth.
She turned on the porch light, bracing herself for the next wave of emotions that evening always seemed to bring. The door opened and Seren entered the house, followed by Ciri, Cerys, and Hjalmar, Cerys's older brother, who had apparently joined the group. Ciri had red eyes and a swollen face. She had clearly been crying.
“He’s nowhere,” she said, throwing herself into Yennefer’s arms.
Yennefer held her tight, feeling the weight of it all crash back down on her shoulders.
“We’ll find him, Ciri. I promise.”
“We hung all the posters,” Cerys added quietly, her eyes never leaving her friend. “At school, in the park, at bus stops and stores. Even the library and the town hall bulletin board.”
“We talked to people too,” Hjalmar said. He looked a lot like Crach, with that same steady confidence in his voice. “A few promised to call if they saw anything.”
“Thank you,” Yennefer said, her eyes full of gratitude. “The more people who know, the better.”
Ciri pulled back to look at her, her face suddenly hardening as tears gathered in her eyes again. Seren glanced at her watch.
“We should go,” she said softly, placing a hand on Cerys’s shoulder. “We’ll rest up and help again tomorrow.”
Ciri turned toward her mother, her expression shifting to one of rising panic.
“And me?” she asked. “I’m staying, right? We’ll keep looking?”
Yennefer took a deep breath.
“You’re going with your dad tonight,” she said carefully. “He’ll be here soon.”
Ciri’s face changed instantly. She stepped back, her eyes wide, her mouth set in a tight, defiant line.
“No,” she said flatly. “I’m not going to Dad’s. I’m staying. Pontar needs me!”
“Ciri,” Yennefer said, gently reaching for her hand. “Let’s talk. Just for tonight, okay?”
“No!” Ciri yanked her hand away, her voice rising. “I’m not going anywhere! What if he comes back tonight? What if he’s hurt? He needs me!”
Yennefer closed her eyes, exhaustion weighing down every muscle. She didn’t even know how to fight this argument. Not when she herself could barely stand.
“Yen, we’re heading out,” Seren said quickly, sensing the tension. “We’ll keep our eyes open.”
“Thank you, Seren. For everything.”
“It’s nothing. Hang in there.”
Cerys rushed over and hugged Ciri tightly one more time before leaving with her mom, leaving Yennefer alone with her spiraling daughter.
“Ciri,” she began, trying to keep her voice calm, “I know you want to stay. I get it. But listen... someone needs to monitor the reports and check messages. And you need rest.”
“I don't want to sleep!” Ciri shook her head violently, her hair whipping around her face. “I want to help! If I were missing, Pontar would be looking for me!”
Her voice broke on the last words, and tears flowed down her face again. Yennefer embraced her, feeling how the crying was breaking her as well.
But she couldn’t fall apart. Ciri needed her to be strong.
From the kitchen came the soft sound of a drawer opening. Yennefer turned to see Triss preparing something at the counter. A moment later, she approached with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands.
“Come, Ciri,” she said gently. “Sit down and drink. It’ll help.”
Ciri blinked, surprised, but she followed her. She sat down and accepted the drink with shaking hands, this time not looking at Triss. Her face was red from crying, and her eyes shone with tears.
“Mom, do you think Pontar is scared?” she asked suddenly, staring into the cup.
Yennefer hesitated. She could say no, that Pontar was brave, that he was certainly managing. But she didn't lie to anyone… except herself.
“He might be,” she said quietly.
Ciri sniffled.
“But he’s alone.”
Yennefer watched Ciri curled up small on the couch and caught the sadness in Triss's face. Her eyes drifted to the empty dog bed. This was a nightmare—an emotionally draining operation with no clear end. As panic crept up her spine again, she moved to Ciri's side and sat down. Triss slipped away to the kitchen; Yennefer wanted to call her back but couldn't find the words. She waited while Ciri finished her cocoa, and when the cup touched the table, she wrapped her arms around her daughter. The girl burrowed into her mother's embrace, and they sat in stillness, without words or movement. The world stood frozen around them.
But it wasn’t peace. Not the kind Yennefer wanted.
At some point, they heard the sound of another car in the driveway. Today, this sound irritated her because it brought no good news. She knew it was Geralt now and that the scene was just beginning. She felt Ciri stiffen beside her.
“I'm not going,” she said quietly but firmly.
Triss still discreetly remained in the kitchen, giving them space, but staying within eyesight. Yennefer knew she was right there if she needed her. He entered the house without knocking and stopped at the threshold of the living room, assessing the situation with a single glance.
“Hey,” he greeted, nodding to everyone. “Any news?”
Yennefer shook her head, still holding Ciri close.
“Nothing concrete,” Triss said, returning the nod. “We’re still checking reports.”
Geralt stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the maps, printouts, and laptops spread across the table.
“Looks organized,” he said, then added, more quietly, looking at Yennefer, “How are you holding up?”
“Barely,” she replied simply.
“Princess,” he said, crouching beside Ciri and placing a hand gently on her knee. “Come on. Let’s go to my place. You can get some rest.”
“I'm not going anywhere! I want to help!” Ciri was almost shouting, her voice trembling with suppressed emotions.
Yennefer felt helpless, not knowing how to calm her daughter. She didn't even have the strength to try doing that; she wanted Geralt to handle it. She just sat there, and that was all she could do in this situation.
“I know you’re worried,” he said calmly. “But think… your mom needs to stay focused on the search. And in the morning, you’ll come back and keep looking. I promise.”
“I don’t care!” Ciri pushed his hand away, her voice cracking into a sob. “I won’t leave him! Pontar is out there alone, in the dark. What if he’s cold? Or hungry? What if someone hurt him?!”
Each of Ciri's words was like a knife in Yennefer's heart. The same thoughts had been torturing her since morning, the same fears. She felt that damn stinging under her eyelids and tightness in her chest again. She'd had enough.
“Ciri…” she started, but her voice gave out.
“No!” Ciri’s cry was raw, her cheeks soaked with tears. “I’m not going anywhere! I have to be here! I have to look! Pontar is sad, he needs me!”
She tore herself out of Yennefer’s arms and collapsed onto the couch, burying her face in the cushions.
Her small body shook with crying. Yennefer leaned over her, stroking her back, but Ciri didn't respond. A heavy silence fell in the room, interrupted only by the child's crying. Geralt looked helplessly at his daughter. Triss observed the whole scene with an expression of deep pain on her face.
Time stretched into infinity again. Geralt stood up and sat on the edge of the sectional, close to Ciri, but not too close. He was tired after his shift, and now this. Yennefer felt bad about all of it again.
My fault.
Ciri finally raised her head; her face was red and wet with tears.
“I want to search,” she repeated stubbornly. “Now.”
“It's dark, honey,” Yennefer continued, stroking her back. “Nobody searches in darkness. But tomorrow, from dawn, we'll all be searching. I promise.”
“What if he doesn't live until tomorrow?” Ciri asked quietly, and her words were like a slap in the face.
Yennefer felt the lump in her throat rise until she could barely breathe. A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She wiped it away quickly, pretending to rub her eyes. Geralt hid his face in his hands, gathering strength to answer his daughter.
“Listen to me, Ciri,” he finally said calmly. “Right now, the most important thing is for all of us to rest, to have the strength to look for him tomorrow. He will need us in the morning. If we don't gather our strength, tomorrow we'll be the ones needing rescue. Do you understand?”
“But…” Ciri sniffled.
“I know you're afraid, and I know the night can be terrifying,” Geralt continued. “We're afraid too. But now we need a plan. We need rest. You'll come with me, get some sleep, and in the morning, we'll start anew, okay?”
Ciri looked at him for a long time, then shifted her gaze to Yennefer.
“Do you think… Mom, could he just be sleeping somewhere?”
“Yes, when it gets dark, he definitely found himself a cozy place to sleep,” she said, trying to make her voice sound gentle. “You know he's a big sleepyhead.”
Ciri looked at her carefully, glanced at Geralt, but then her gaze returned to her mother. They both looked into each other's eyes as if they could read each other's minds.
“Do you promise you'll keep looking?” she asked quietly. “And that you'll call as soon as you find him? Even at night?”
“I promise,” Yennefer replied briefly and matter-of-factly.
Ciri hugged her tightly, and then slowly, reluctantly, nodded.
“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But in the morning, I want to come back here, I won't...”
“We'll figure something out, Ciri, don't worry...” Geralt said, looking meaningfully at Yennefer. She knew he started his shift at 8:00 a.m. She had all night to figure out what to do next.
Ciri sighed heavily, as if surrendering in a battle she couldn't win.
“Okay,” she finally said. “Do we have a deal?”
“Deal,” Geralt stroked her head.
Ciri slowly got up from the couch, wiping away tears. She brought the cup to her lips, finishing the cocoa, then glanced shyly toward the kitchen. Geralt also stood up and approached her, placing his hand on her back.
“Thank you, Triss,” she said quietly. “For the cocoa. And for the posters.”
“You're welcome,” Triss replied with a gentle smile. “Rest. We have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow.”
Geralt took his daughter’s hand, nodded a quiet goodbye, and then they were gone. The door clicked shut behind them, and a heavy stillness settled over the house.
Yennefer stood up and slowly—almost like she was moving through water—walked over to turn off the overhead light. She switched on a small lamp, casting a warm glow across the room, softening its edges until it felt more like a shelter than a home. She walked to the terrace doors and leaned against the wall. Rain had started to fall, drumming steadily on the roof above. She stood there in silence, staring into the darkness.
All the emotions of the day wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. On any other night, she would have been alone with it.
Utterly alone.
But tonight, she wasn’t.
“Thank you for staying,” she said quietly, not turning away from the window.
“You're welcome,” Triss replied just as quietly. “I wouldn't leave you alone. Not now.”
The silence stretched a little too long.
“You should eat something,” Triss said softly.
Yennefer shook her head. “I'm not hungry.”
She turned away from the window and went to the couch, where she unconsciously began organizing posters and notes. Her movements were stiff—like someone desperately trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.
“Tomorrow morning, everyone will start again,” she said, sorting papers. “We need to update the sectors so we don't miss anyone.”
She felt Triss's attentive gaze on her.
“Yen...” she began quietly.
“Maybe we should check shelters in other parts of the country,” Yennefer interrupted her, not raising her eyes. “People sometimes find dogs and take them to distant places, thinking they're doing good. And if someone took him farther…”
“...if someone took him farther, we need to expand the search.”
Triss moved closer, sitting on the edge of the couch.
“Do you think someone might have taken him?”
Yennefer looked at her; again, she had the impression she was looking at Triss through a fog.
“He's a purebred dog with a pedigree,” she said quietly. “A trained rescue dog. He's… valuable. Financially.”
For the first time, she gave voice to what had been haunting her from the beginning. A thought she had tried to push away, but one that kept returning like a merciless echo.
“Someone could have stolen him,” she finished. “Could have sold him. Taken him far away. And if that’s the case…” she paused, biting her lip.
The words hung in the air. What she was saying was terrible, serious, and unfortunately, could be true. If so, she might never see Pontar again.
“Don’t think like that,” Triss said firmly. “We don’t have any evidence of that. He could’ve been spooked. Maybe he saw someone... or something…”
She was cut off by the sound of cars pulling into the driveway.
Yennefer straightened immediately, her face slipping back into that practiced mask of control.
Eskel, Dorien, and Chireadan entered the house—soaked, tired, with clearly grim expressions. Their silence said more than any words.
“Nothing?” Yennefer asked, although the answer was obvious.
Chireadan shook his head. “We searched the entire area around the fork in the road, the surrounding farms. No one saw anything,” he said. “Tomorrow we'll take new sectors further south, as Triss wrote.”
“We'll be searching from dawn,” Eskel added, taking off his wet jacket. “We're not giving up, Yen.”
For the next half hour, they discussed plans for tomorrow. Meanwhile, the rest of the team arrived, and each shared what they had learned. Triss updated the maps, wrote down ideas, and updated information to be sent to the groups. She coordinated concrete details with the guys, while Yennefer closely observed her efficient actions.
When everyone finally left, silence fell over the house again. Each subsequent silence was worse than the previous one.
Yennefer stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the map spread out on the kitchen counter. Despite a full day of searching, dozens of people involved, and thousands of social media shares... They had nothing. Only a few faint, unconfirmed trails.
And one thought was growing louder in her mind.
“You should rest,” Triss said gently, stepping toward her. “Tomorrow...”
“What if he’s already dead?” Yennefer cut her off, her voice so soft and fragile it barely sounded like her own. “What if he was hit by a car? Or if someone…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Triss stepped closer, standing directly in front of her.
“We don’t know that,” she said gently. “Don’t go there.”
“How can I not?” Yennefer finally raised her eyes, and in them, Triss saw a rawness so deep it tightened something in her chest. “He never ran off before. Never. And I... I should’ve been more careful. That gate...”
“Stop,” Triss said, placing her hands on Yennefer’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault. No one blames you.”
“I blame myself,” Yennefer whispered, her voice starting to break. “Pontar is... my partner. I was responsible for him.”
Yennefer physically felt her composure beginning to crack. How fine lines were appearing on that perfect mask of control she had maintained all day. For Ciri. For everyone.
Without a word, Triss embraced her, pulling her close. It was a simple gesture, but it carried everything she needed.
For a moment, Yennefer stood stiffly, as if she didn't know how to react. And then, like a dam breaking under the pressure of too much water, she collapsed. Her shoulders shook as the first tears flowed down her face. She clenched her hands on Triss's sweater, burying her face in her neck.
It wasn't loud, dramatic crying. These were quiet tears suppressed throughout a lifetime. Tears of a woman who always had to be strong. For Ciri. For the injured. For their families. For everyone.
In Triss's arms, she felt simultaneously safe and exposed. Everything she had planned to tell her on Saturday now seemed so distant, yet painfully present. She had intended to confess her feelings, and now she stood in her arms, breaking into pieces for an entirely different reason.
Could fate be more ironic?
So many nights she hadn't slept, imagining this moment of closeness, and now, when it finally came, she was too broken to fully experience it. Triss held her, not knowing that all this time, Yennefer had dreamed of her closeness, of her touch, of the possibility of leaning on her—not just in crisis, but every day.
Triss held her tightly, stroking her back, allowing this pain to finally find release. Because only now, with Ciri out of the house, when she no longer had to pretend for others, she could finally admit to herself how terrified she was.
“We'll find him,” Triss said with such strength in her voice, as if she could make it true by words alone. “I promise you. We'll find Pontar.”
And what about us?
Yennefer wanted to ask, but those words remained unspoken, suspended, and still waiting for their turn.
Finally, she pulled back slightly, trying to wipe away her tears. Her face was now open, vulnerable in a way Triss had never seen before.
“I'm sorry,” Yennefer said quietly, looking away. “I didn't mean to…”
“Don't apologize,” Triss gently interrupted her.
For a moment they stood there, as if neither knew what to say next. Yennefer observed Triss, seeing how fatigue had left its mark on her, Tense shoulders, shadows under her eyes, and tthose sad eyes that still, even now, held strength.
She knew Triss was finding that strength for her.
But Triss was watching her too. Reading the exhaustion in Yennefer’s face just as clearly.
“You really should rest,” Triss said, deciding. “Even if just for a moment.”
“I can't,” Yennefer shook her head. “What if someone calls? If there's a lead...
“I'll keep watch by the phones,” Triss assured her. “Go, take a hot bath. Rest for a bit. Without it, you won't be able to think clearly tomorrow. Remember what Geralt told Ciri? He was right, Yen...”
Yennefer hesitated, shifting her gaze to the maps and laptop spread out.
“I'll manage,” Triss added softly. “I promise I'll let you know if anything changes. Even the smallest detail.”
After a long moment, Yennefer nodded.
“Maybe you're right,” she admitted. “I'll try to be quick.”
“Take as long as you need,” Triss replied, gently pushing her toward the stairs. “I'll order some food while I wait. I'm convinced you'll feel hungry after your bath.”
Yennefer wanted to protest, but she knew Triss was right.
“Okay,” she agreed. “But nothing spicy.”
“Of course.”
Hot water enveloped Yennefer's body as she sank into the bathtub up to her neck. She let out a long, heavy sigh, feeling how her tense muscles slowly surrendered to the warmth. She hadn't expected to follow Triss's suggestion, yet here she was—trying to catch at least a moment of peace.
She closed her eyes, and her thoughts immediately returned to Pontar. Where was he now? Was he cold on this rainy evening? Stop—she ordered herself mentally. This won't help.
She submerged her head under the water. Beneath the surface, everything was muffled, distant. For a few seconds, there was only the rushing sound in her ears and this strange detachment from reality. When she emerged, she took a deep breath and brushed the wet hair from her face.
Triss was right. She needed this moment. She needed to stop thinking, if only for a moment.
She dressed in what she had at hand. Loose gray sweatpants, a tank top, and an oversized hoodie. Everything, except the tank top, was in a color that, according to Triss, made her look silly. No armor. No barriers. She looked at herself in the mirror—hair still wet, eyes reddened from tears and fatigue.
Yennefer slowly descended the stairs. The house was quiet, only the sound of typing on a keyboard came from the living room. She paused in the hallway, observing Triss, who sat on the couch with a laptop on her knees, focused on the screen.
The kitchen, previously cluttered with maps, notes, and empty coffee cups, was now organized. Maps neatly folded on the counter, notes stacked, cups washed and put away. Triss must have taken care of all this while she was upstairs. On the table in front of the couch were two steaming cups of tea.
Yennefer approached and sat next to Triss, pulling her legs under herself and leaning her shoulder against the backrest. She laid her head and looked sidelong at Triss.
“Food is on its way,” she said, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Anything interesting online?” Yennefer sighed and sank back against the sectional's backrest.
“People are sharing our posts, but no one has seen anything.”
“I wish this would end already.” She tilted her head back, closing her eyes.
“It will,” Triss assured her. “We'll find him tomorrow.”
“It's hard to believe it, when every minute brings more doubts,” Yennefer admitted quietly. “I'm… terrified, Triss. And furious. At myself, at that damn gate, at the whole world.”
Triss moved closer, and her eyes were filled with such genuine compassion.
“I know,” she said simply.
Before Yennefer could respond, the doorbell rang. The food delivery. Triss got up to receive the order, and Yennefer remained on the couch, suddenly too tired to move.
They ate in silence, sitting side by side. The food was tasty, but Yennefer barely registered it. All her thoughts revolved around Pontar. Where could he be? What was happening to him?
“Try to nap, just for a bit,” Triss said when they finished eating. “A long day awaits us tomorrow.”
“I won't fall asleep,” Yennefer replied, resting her head on the back of the couch. “Don't even try to convince me.”
“I'm not trying,” Triss smiled slightly. “But you could at least close your eyes for a moment.”
Yennefer smiled slightly. She wanted Triss to be with her, although she knew she was asking a lot. But truly, for the first time in a long time, she didn't want to be alone.
She half-closed her eyes, listening to the rhythmic tapping of keys. This sound, which had irritated her all day, was now strangely soothing. Regular, like a heartbeat. It reminded her that Triss was right beside her, working, keeping watch.
A delicate scent of raspberries hung in the air. She always smells like summer. This thought triggered a wave of other memories and reflections. Tomorrow is Saturday. This thought hit her again. Saturday… they were supposed to talk. She was going to tell Triss how much her life had changed since she appeared in it. How much she herself had changed. Or perhaps not changed – how she had finally seen the whole truth about herself.
What now? This wasn't a good moment for such confessions. Not when Pontar was out there, lost. And yet… the feelings she was discovering within herself grew stronger with each day. With each hour. Even now, in the middle of this nightmare, she was sure of it.
She would like to move closer to her now. Touch her shoulder. Maybe even nestle into her back and feel that warmth that always radiated from her. But she remained at a safe distance, too tired, too full of fear to make any move.
The tapping of keys calmed her more and more. Her eyes closed on their own, though she fought against drowsiness. The last thing she registered was Triss's profile in the lamplight—focused, beautiful. And then darkness enveloped her.
Yennefer woke up at five in the morning without an alarm, it was rather gloomy. The rain had stopped, but the day didn't promise to be sunny. Poor Pontar. A rainy night.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and for a moment, she didn't know where she was. Still on the couch, but covered with the blanket that usually lay on the armchair by the window, the same one under which Ciri often fell asleep during evening readings. Triss's things were neatly arranged on the table. Laptop, notebook, pen…but she herself was nowhere to be seen.
Her body ached, her head still throbbed, but she had a bit more energy.
She got up quietly so as not to wake Triss, who was probably sleeping in the office. Yennefer was angry with herself for not even managing to prepare a bed for her and simply falling asleep. She just hoped that Triss hadn't felt embarrassed and had managed on her own. Slowly, with her phone in hand, she went to the kitchen. She needed this solitude, if only for a moment. She began preparing breakfast, despite not feeling like doing it. Triss came to her a moment later, in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, with her hair down and looking sleepy. She looked so perfect.
“Hey, I didn't prepare a bed for you last night, Triss, I'm sorry…”
“Oh, don't worry about it, I managed,” she smiled and immediately took her laptop from the table. She placed it on the counter and sat close to Yennefer. “Did you sleep a little?”
“Yeah” She smiled slightly. “Coffee?”
“Mhmm,” Triss yawned and rubbed her eyes, again automatically and rhythmically clicking on the keyboard.
They ate scrambled eggs and drank coffee while reading messages from the guys and Syanna, who was going to join the team today. Everyone was gradually gathering, coordinating in the group chat, and arranging details. Yennefer again fired up her laptop, spread out the map, and prepared markers. Triss browsed her phone, occasionally replying to messages and liking posts and shares.
How much longer would this go on? If they didn't find him today, what would happen next?
She remembered Ciri, that she had promised to let her participate in the search. She texted Geralt that they were already awake, and he could bring her anytime. He said they would eat breakfast, and he'd drop her off before his shift.
Yennefer opened the terrace doors and let in the cold air. Fog hung over the fields; it was cold and gloomy. Usually, she opened the doors to let Pontar out into the yard. She bit her lip and turned around, returning to the kitchen.
“I'll go change,” Triss said suddenly. “Could you keep an eye on things in case someone writes something?” she asked, pointing to the laptop.
Yennefer just nodded, although the option of reading Triss's messages felt strangely uncomfortable to her. She knew it was about her dog, but still. She looked at the laptop occasionally, her thoughts still circling from Pontar to Ciri and to Triss. The day promised to be exceptionally long.
Later, Geralt's car appeared in the driveway. He got out, helping a sleepy Ciri, who immediately perked up at the sight of Yennefer standing at the porch, dressed and ready.
“Did you find him?” she shouted, running toward them.
“No, but the day is just beginning, Ciri,” Yennefer replied, putting an arm around her.
Geralt approached them, he looked tired but composed. He glanced at the red car, then at Yennefer, and a shadow of understanding appeared in his eyes.
“Is Triss here?” Ciri asked, looking up.
Yennefer nodded, and the girl passed her and ran into the house. Geralt was watching her; she could feel it. Finally, she turned to him, trying to maintain a stone face.
“Just please, don't…” she began, feeling her cheeks involuntarily flush.
“I'm glad you're not alone with this,” he interrupted her gently, without a trace of judgment. “Good luck.”
And only Yennefer knew he wasn't just talking about finding the dog.
“I have to go for my shift,” he added. “Let me know when you find him.”
“Sure,” she replied, grateful for his discretion.
Geralt returned to his car, and a moment later he was gone.
Yennefer watched as Ciri almost immediately took control of the situation. She threw her jacket over the back of a chair, stretched, and looked hopefully at Triss.
“What are we doing? Where are we looking? Does everyone know already?” she bombarded Triss with questions, nervously shifting from foot to foot.
Triss smiled gently, placing a hand on Ciri's shoulder. “Easy, one thing at a time. Come, I'll show you what I've already done.”
She led the girl to the table where her laptop lay with a map of the area open. Ciri immediately leaned over the screen, staring at the colored points marking searched areas.
Yennefer observed them from the kitchen, feeling a strange pulsing in her temples. Suddenly, Ciri's presence, though eagerly awaited, became a source of additional anxiety. This was her daughter; she needed protection, shouldn't see her in such a state. What if they didn't find Pontar? What if Ciri had to face another disappointment?
“Are you hungry?” she asked, more to interrupt her thoughts than out of actual concern.
“No, I ate at Dad's,” Ciri replied, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Triss, did you check here?”
Yennefer felt something tighten inside her. Her daughter was so full of energy, so ready to act, while she herself felt increasingly overwhelmed. The voices of Ciri and Triss, the tapping of keys, the buzzing of the phone with more notifications — it all merged into one persistent noise that intensified her fatigue.
“Mom, we can split into groups! I can go with Triss, and you with someone else! Or we can borrow more dogs from the unit!” Ciri spoke faster and faster, and her voice seemed to bounce off the kitchen walls.
“Ciri, please, give me a moment to think,” said Yennefer, massaging her temples.
“But we don't have time!” protested Ciri. “What if someone's in a hurry and Pontar ends up in a shelter or...”
“Ciri,” this time Triss interrupted her gently. “Your mom is right. We need a plan. And a plan requires a moment of calm.”
Ciri muttered something under her breath but calmed down a bit.
Triss looked at Yennefer over Ciri's head, and understanding was visible in her eyes. She approached her, lowering her voice.
“Everything all right?” she asked, her face expressing concern.
“Yes, it's just...” Yennefer's voice trailed off, unable to put into words what she was feeling.
“I know,” Triss said, briefly squeezing her hand. She glanced at Ciri, then back at Yennefer. “I'll handle her for a bit. Why don't you go upstairs and change, or whatever you need to do? Recharge. It's going to be a long day.”
“I don't want to put so much on you,” Yennefer protested weakly.
“Go,” Triss gave her a gentle push toward the stairs. “We'll be fine.”
Yennefer hesitated, then nodded and headed upstairs. In her bedroom, she changed into jeans, a fresh t-shirt, and a clean hoodie. She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, taking a deep breath as she looked at her reflection. The woman staring back at her seemed more in control, more like herself.
When she came back downstairs, the situation appeared more manageable. Triss had directed Ciri to take notes from the comments, explaining there were too many to track otherwise. The girl was bent over a notebook, scribbling furiously, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“What should I do?” Yennefer asked, feeling steadier.
“Keep an eye on the rescuers' updates,” Triss suggested, not looking up from her phone. “They're sending location pins.”
“Any messages?” Yennefer moved closer.
“I have a few I'm checking through now,” Triss replied, scrolling rapidly. Suddenly, she froze, her eyes widening. “Oh fuck,” she muttered. “This was sent half an hour ago…I must have missed it.”
She looked up at Yennefer, apologetic. “I'm sorry.”
“What is it?” Yennefer asked, with no trace of blame in her voice.
Triss turned the phone around, showing her the message and the attached photo. It wasn't clear, actually showing a picture of a camera screen, and on it, in a close-up, a white dog lying in bushes.
But even so, Yennefer immediately recognized Pontar's white silhouette.
“Gods, puppy...” she whispered, feeling her heart tighten. “It's him.”
“Pontar,” Ciri squeaked, suddenly materializing beside them and covering her mouth as she looked at the photo.
“Oh, I have more pictures,” Triss showed them to Yennefer.
“Triss, it's him... for sure…” Yennefer said in a trembling voice.
“Come on,” Triss was already getting up. “We're going there, I have the address. The guys are far from this place anyway.”
“I'll get him a blanket; he's probably cold!” Ciri shouted, returning moments later dressed in her jacket with a blanket in her hands. Triss grabbed the tablet, and they all got ready and left. Yennefer hesitated at the threshold, but quickly pushed away the intrusive thoughts. She wasn't leaving anyone behind whom she could lose this time.
They set off with Yennefer driving, Triss beside her clutching her phone, and Ciri in the back, fidgeting impatiently. The girl kept leaning forward between the front seats, trying to catch every bit of information.
“What is he saying?” she asked, peering over Triss's shoulder.
“I'm just confirming the details,” Triss replied, typing responses. “I've let the group know we might have found him.”
“Can I help?” Ciri asked, pulling out her phone.
“Ciri, sit still. We'll see when we get there,” Yennefer said, masking her emotions.
For the first time since yesterday evening, hope bloomed in Yennefer's heart. A dog, looking just like Pontar. Alive. Alone. Though frightened and disheveled in the photo.
A strange mixture of tension, hope, and fear filled the car. Despite any complications Ciri's presence might bring, Yennefer felt everything was exactly as it should be. She, her daughter, and Triss, together searching for someone they all loved.
“Mom, can't you go faster?” Ciri urged, her knees bouncing.
“Ciri, please,” Yennefer replied, though she herself wanted to floor the gas pedal.
Triss stayed focused on her phone and navigation the entire way; they drove for over an hour. Yennefer drove carefully, following Triss's directions, feeling terribly impatient.
“Turn right at the next intersection,” Triss instructed, looking up from her phone. “The house should be at the end of the street, on the right side.”
Yennefer slowed down, tightening her grip on the gear shift knob. Ciri leaned forward from the back seat, pressing her face against the window.
“There,” Triss pointed to a modest house with a large yard, behind which stretched an extensive meadow, and further back, a forest. “We can park here.”
Yennefer parked on the paved driveway and turned off the engine. She hadn't even managed to unbuckle her seatbelt when a man in his forties came out of the house, followed by a girl roughly Ciri's age – a blonde dressed entirely in black.
“Good morning!” the man called, approaching the car. “Are you the one who wrote? I'm Garran.”
“Yes, I'm Triss,” Triss replied, getting out first. “This is Yennefer, the dog's owner, and her daughter Ciri.”
Yennefer got out of the car, barely containing her emotions.
“Hello, where is he?” she asked, not caring much about pleasantries.
“Astrid noticed him this morning through the bathroom window,” the man explained, pointing to the girl who was looking at Ciri with curiosity. “He's still there, in the meadow under the fir trees.”
“I took a picture because I like photography,” Astrid interjected shyly. “Then I saw it was a dog and told my dad.”
“I wanted to approach him,” Garran continued, “but as soon as I got close, he tried to stand up, and I could see he was in pain. I backed off so as not to stress him. I called my wife, who's at work in the store. Someone there heard her talking about a white dog and sent me your profile.” He turned to Triss, “I wrote to you right away.”
“Thank you,” said Triss.
“You can see him through the back gate,” he said, leading them through the yard. “Astrid gave him water; he wasn't afraid of her, and now I think I understand why.” He smiled at Ciri.
“Is he injured?” Ciri asked, walking right beside Astrid.
“Something's wrong with his paw,” the girl replied. “He can't stand on it.”
The man opened a small gate at the end of the yard, leading to the meadow.
“There, under those fir trees,” he pointed toward the dense evergreens several yards away.
Yennefer spotted the white patch under the dark green of the trees. As soon as she saw it, all barriers gave way, and she ran through the tall grass. The morning chill still hung over the meadow; the grass reached her knees and left wet marks on her shoes and jeans. A bird flew overhead, but Yennefer paid no attention. She saw only the white patch under the trees.
“Pontar!” she shouted, her voice breaking on the second syllable.
The white patch moved. First the head rose, then two ears stood at attention. Hearing the familiar voice, the dog tried to stand but immediately collapsed back down. His tail moved weakly, hitting the damp ground.
Yennefer reached him, falling to her knees in the wet grass. Pontar let out a quiet whimper, a sound full of pain but also indescribable relief. His white fur was gray with dirt and moisture, matted in places. He lay on his left side, with his right front paw positioned somewhat oddly. The elbow was visibly swollen, and the fur around it was matted.
Then she noticed something else. Pontar wasn’t wearing his collar. The wide, red one with his name and her phone number on it. She was certain he’d had it on that morning. She rarely ever took it off. Its absence immediately seemed suspicious to Yennefer, but she put that thought aside for later.
Next to him stood a plastic bowl of water, half empty.
With trembling hands, Yennefer gently held his muzzle. Using her experience, she quickly checked his eyes and nose, then pressed her forehead to his. He was dirty and wet, whimpering softly, and his tail still moved weakly. He tried to lick her hands. He was as happy to see her as she was to see him.
“Oh, you silly dog,” she whispered, feeling her eyes burn. “What happened to you?”
She ran her hands over his body, conducting a quick examination, even though her fingers trembled, and her hands were gentler than usual. When she reached his right front paw, Pontar whimpered louder. The elbow was clearly swollen, but there were no open wounds or unnatural bends suggesting a fracture.
Behind her came the sound of running footsteps. Ciri.
“Pontar!” the girl cried, falling to her knees beside them. She wrapped her arms around the dog's neck, burying her face in his dirty fur. “We found you! I knew it!”
Pontar made a soft, whimpering sound, his tail now wagging more energetically despite the obvious pain. He tried to lick Ciri's face, which made her laugh through tears.
“Careful,” said Yennefer, gently pulling her daughter back. “His paw is injured. And he's dehydrated. We need to take him to Shani.”
She looked toward the house, where Triss, Garran, and Astrid stood by the gate, watching the scene from a distance.
“We need to get him to the car,” said Yennefer. “Ciri, run ahead. Tell them he'll be alright.”
Ciri reluctantly moved away from the dog and ran back across the meadow. Yennefer remained alone with Pontar, gently stroking his head.
“Get up, boy,” she said softly but firmly. “Let's see if you can walk.”
She carefully helped him raise the front part of his body, being careful not to touch the injured paw. Pontar, with evident effort, tried to stand, first raising the back part of his body. His muscles trembled with tension. He grunted softly when he tried to stand on three legs, keeping the injured right front paw raised and slightly pulled toward his body.
“Good dog,” Yennefer praised him, supporting him gently. “Slowly, step by step.”
Pontar stood for a moment, finding his balance, and then carefully took his first step. Yennefer walked right beside him, adjusting her pace to his capabilities. The dog limped, placing only three paws on the ground and keeping the injured one in the air. Every few steps he would stop, as if gathering strength, and then lean slightly against Yennefer's leg, seeking support.
“You're doing well,” she said calmly, petting him and waiting patiently at each stop. “We're almost there.”
They moved together through the tall grass. Despite the pain and fatigue, Pontar didn't give up. He clearly felt safer with Yennefer, which gave him strength. Ciri returned to them and walked right beside them, unable to hold back tears of joy, though she tried to be brave.
“I missed you,” she whispered to the dog when he stopped once again to rest.
They slowly reached the gate and entered the yard.
“He's so weak,” Astrid noted sadly, looking at Pontar.
“He's a brave dog, he'll be fine,” Yennefer replied, trying to smile despite the tension. “Thank you for giving him water.”
The girl nodded, approaching closer to get a better look at the dog. Pontar looked at her and weakly wagged his tail – clearly recognizing the person who had brought him water earlier.
“Can I pet him?” she asked quietly.
“Of course,” Yennefer answered. “But only on the head, okay? His paw hurts a lot.”
Astrid gently placed her hand on Pontar's head, carefully petting him. The dog closed his eyes, and his tail moved somewhat more energetically.
“Thank you so much,” said Yennefer, glancing at the girl, then at her father. “If it weren't for you…”
“No need to thank us,” Garran interrupted. “The most important thing is that the dog has been found.”
“I promise I'll be in touch when things calm down,” Yennefer assured him. “To thank you properly.”
“No need, really. What matters is that he's going home,” the man said, smiling sincerely.
“Will he get better?” Astrid asked, looking at Yennefer as they all slowly moved toward the car.
“He will,” she assured her, feeling something in her heart loosen for the first time since Pontar's disappearance. “Thanks to you.”
They talked more on the way, and Yennefer was grateful that such wonderful people had found him. Triss and Ciri went ahead and had already prepared the back seat of the car, spreading a blanket on it. Yennefer calmed and petted Pontar, and with Triss's help, they lifted him and carefully transferred him to the car. The dog grunted as he tried to get comfortable on the seat, clearly avoiding putting weight on his injured paw.
“I'll sit with him in the back,” said Ciri, getting into the car and gently placing the dog's head on her lap.
Yennefer and Triss exchanged contact information with Garran once more, then said goodbye and got into the car.
“Call the vet, I'll write to the guys that we found him,” said Triss, reaching for her phone.
“Tell them I'm buying them pizza for a month of shifts for their help,” added Yennefer, starting the engine.
They both laughed quietly, feeling the tension of the last few hours drain away. Yennefer looked in the rearview mirror at Ciri, who was gently stroking Pontar's head. The dog lay with his eyes half-closed, his breathing slowly calming, and his tail occasionally moving weakly. She took out her phone and put it in the holder on the windshield, dialing Shani's number and turning on speakerphone. She thought about how everything was finally on the right track.
She had everyone she loved with her. All were safe and sound.
She met Triss's gaze for a moment and felt something warm spreading in her chest.
Well, not everyone knew how she felt yet… for now.
***
Yennefer parked her black Volvo in the nearly empty parking lot in front of the veterinary clinic on the outskirts of Montecalvo. A large, modern building with a glass front rose before them, its illuminated clinic logo casting a blue glow. Only two other cars were there. Saturday before noon, it could be worse, especially since the modern facility was open 24/7.
Yennefer turned off the engine, got out of the car, and approached the door to let the dog out. Pontar turned slowly, letting out a quiet moan, looking alternately at Yennefer and the car floor. His eyes, despite fatigue, expressed trust but also uncertainty. His swollen front paw was clearly causing him pain.
“We're here now, Shani will help you soon,” said Yennefer, opening the door wider. The dog moved restlessly but didn't get out. He trembled slightly and whimpered quietly.
“Ciri, Triss, go ahead, we'll follow you slowly,” Yennefer instructed, and when they got out, she leaned over Pontar. “Come on, big guy.”
Pontar moaned again, undecided. Yennefer sighed and thought for a moment how to help him get down. She carefully slid her hands under his body, and the dog, despite his weight, allowed himself to be slightly lifted. His wet, white fur immediately covered her black leather jacket.
“Easy, it's okay now,” she whispered as she carefully set him on the ground.
Pontar made an uncomfortable sound but stood on all four paws, clearly favoring his right front one. Yennefer crouched before him and gently stroked his muzzle, noticing a small scratch just above his nose. His dark eyes looked at her as if the whole world around didn't matter.
“Heel,” she commanded when she straightened up. Only now did she realize she didn't have a leash, and she felt anxious again. She pushed those thoughts aside. Pontar obediently, though slowly, moved at her side. She locked the car with the remote.
Ciri and Triss were waiting by the door. It was evident that Ciri was struggling to hold back tears at the sight of her beloved dog in such a condition. Triss placed her hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support.
The glass doors slid open automatically, letting them into the brightly lit interior of the clinic. The reception area, maintained in shades of blue and white, seemed sterile yet friendly. In the waiting room sat a man with a large Labrador on a leash and a woman holding a carrier with a cat. The Labrador immediately stood up and tugged at its leash, interested in the new dog.
Pontar remained at Yennefer's heel, though his ears twitched. Yennefer touched his head.
“Easy,” she said quietly, and the dog obediently lowered his head.
From behind the reception desk emerged Shani, a red-haired veterinarian in a blue coat. Her face brightened at the sight of Pontar, although a professional assessment of the dog's condition was visible in her eyes.
“Pontar!” she called warmly, approaching with quick steps and crouching before the dog. “What happened to such a brave boy, hmm?”
She spoke to the dog in a sweet, affectionate voice, gently examining his posture and visible injuries with her eyes. Pontar moved his tail slightly, recognizing her.
“Thank you for seeing us right away,” said Yennefer.
“For dogs that save others' lives, we always have room,” Shani replied, standing up. “Let's go to the examination room.” She looked at Ciri and Triss. “I'm sorry, but first I need to examine him and talk to Yennefer. I'll call you in afterward, okay?”
“But I want to go with Pontar!” Ciri protested, taking a step forward.
“Ciri,” Yennefer placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let the doctor do her job. Pontar will be in good hands.”
“I'll call you in right after the examination,” Shani promised. “For sure.”
Yennefer gave Triss a grateful look as she once again took care of her daughter, then followed Shani to the examination room with Pontar.
The room was bright and spacious, with modern medical equipment arranged around a central treatment table. At the desk behind a computer sat a young woman in a coat—Shani's assistant. Everything was prepared for their arrival.
“This is Priscilla, my new assistant,” Shani introduced, closing the door.
“Hello,” she greeted.
“It will be difficult to put him on the table with that paw. Wait a moment.”
Shani returned a moment later with a fabric stretcher for animals. The dog lay down on it at her command, and they carefully lifted the dog and placed him on the table. Pontar lay quietly, only his nose moving as he sniffed. The scent of the examination room was intense and specific.
As Shani began the examination, Priscilla turned to Yennefer:
“Can I ask for some basic information? When did you last see the dog? What happened?”
Yennefer, without taking her eyes off Pontar, replied:
“He disappeared yesterday morning from our yard. We found him today around eleven in a meadow near the village of Wrenholt, almost an hour's drive from here. He was lying under bushes; it rained all night...”
Meanwhile, the vet was efficiently examining the dog. It was clear she knew what she was doing, but she had an unusual gentleness and a wonderful approach to animals. She checked his eyes, ears, and oral cavity, and listened to his chest. She gently cleaned and disinfected the scratches on his side and muzzle.
“He's dehydrated and slightly hypothermic,” she stated. “These scratches are superficial, nothing serious.” She carefully touched the swollen paw, and Pontar hissed with pain. “This paw worries me; I'm not sure if it's a sprain or a minor fracture. We need to do an X-ray.”
Shani prepared a syringe.
“I'll give him pain medication and take blood for tests.” She looked at Yennefer. “Do you have his health record?”
Yennefer felt a wave of shame.
“No, everything happened so quickly…”
“Don't worry,” Shani smiled reassuringly, skillfully inserting the needle and drawing blood. “I'll give you the documents, with a copy for the unit. We'll update the record at the next visit.”
The smell of disinfectants, the sound of metal instruments, the sight of syringes and cotton swabs—all of this was strangely familiar to Yennefer, though from a different perspective. Usually, she was the one providing help to people in the mountains; now she felt helpless, watching someone else take care of her four-legged partner.
“You can return to the waiting room,” Shani said after a while. “We'll take Pontar for an X-ray; it might take about half an hour.”
Yennefer nodded, stroked the dog's head, and left the examination room, feeling as if she were observing everything through thick glass. Fatigue and emotions dulled her senses.
In the waiting room, Ciri jumped up from her chair.
“How is he?”
Yennefer sat down heavily next to Triss.
“Shani is examining him. His paw is either sprained or broken; they're doing an X-ray, and then we'll know. Besides that, he has minor scratches, is dehydrated, and hypothermic.”
“Where could he have hurt himself like that?” asked Ciri, her voice trembling with sadness.
“I don't know, Ciri,” Yennefer replied calmly, not wanting to think how difficult it would have been for him to actually wander so far following a scent and injure his elbow joint on his own.
They waited in silence. Ciri browsed through a magazine about animals, though it was clear she wasn't focusing on the content. Triss occasionally moved closer, touching her shoulder. Yennefer sat motionless, staring at the examination room door and at the black Labrador.
After almost forty minutes, the examination room door opened, and Shani emerged.
“You can come in,” she said, and Ciri immediately jumped to her feet.
Pontar was lying on the table with his front paw bandaged. He looked drowsy, the effect of pain medication.
“It's a sprain, but a serious one,” Shani explained, showing them the X-ray images on the computer monitor. “I need to do a few more tests; I suspect he might have damaged ligaments. He needs to wear an immobilizing bandage for at least two weeks. He's clearly weakened and dehydrated, though we're giving him fluids. For that reason and for these tests, I'd prefer to keep him overnight for observation and discharge him tomorrow afternoon. If everything is okay.”
Yennefer, standing by the table and stroking Pontar's head, nodded.
“Of course, if that's what you think is best.”
“No!” Ciri protested. “I want him to come home with us!”
“Ciri,” Yennefer looked at her sharply. “Pontar will come home when he's healthy, but now he needs to stay under observation.”
Ciri looked at the dog, who was lying with his eyes half closed. Tears came to her eyes, but she nodded, though Yennefer saw that she was clenching both fists.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Shani discussed the details of treatment, diet, and rehabilitation with Yennefer. Priscilla prepared documents for signature.
“I'll call tomorrow,” said Shani when Yennefer went to the dog after signing the documents. She didn't want to leave him; sadness constricted her chest, but she knew it was necessary.
“I'll be waiting for information,” Yennefer replied.
“Everything will be fine,” Shani assured. “Let him sleep now, and you should rest too. These have been difficult hours for all of you.”
They said goodbye to Pontar, who moved his tail slightly. Ciri kissed him on the forehead, and Yennefer stroked his neck.
When the clinic doors closed behind them, Yennefer felt all the fatigue suddenly hit her, as if she'd walked straight into a wall. The last two days—the search, the fear, the sleeplessness—it all came down on her in a single moment. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Only now, when she knew Pontar was safe, did her body remember that she hadn't slept for almost two days.
Triss looked at her with concern.
“Yen, are you okay?”
Yennefer nodded, straightening herself. Feeling tired was just another obstacle to overcome, like everything else in her life.
“Yes. Let's go home,” she said, walking toward the car with a confident step, although her shoulders were tense, and dark shadows were visible under her eyes. She knew that true exhaustion would catch up with her later, when she would be alone in her apartment. When behind closed doors, she could finally allow herself to let go.
The return journey passed mostly in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. Ciri would occasionally sigh quietly, looking out the window. Triss was responding to messages from people who had helped in the search, thanking them for their support.
When they arrived home, Ciri immediately ran upstairs to call Cerys and tell her everything. Triss and Yennefer were left alone in the hallway.
“I should go now,” said Triss, gathering her things—a laptop, tablet, and cables that she had spread throughout the house during the search. “I've made myself quite at home here.”
Yennefer watched as Triss packed everything into her bag. She felt a strange sadness, she wanted to say something more, do something to keep Triss even a moment longer, but she didn't know how to do it.
“Thank you,” she finally said, standing in the doorway as Triss finished packing. “For everything. For helping with the search, for the support, for… being here.”
Triss looked up, her eyes warm and full of understanding. “You don't need to thank me, Yen.”
“Today is Saturday,” Yennefer suddenly said, remembering their plans from before the crisis. “We were supposed to talk.”
Triss smiled slightly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I know. But I'm not going anywhere, Yennefer. We have time.”
“Will you always be this patient?” Yennefer tried to joke, but her exhaustion betrayed the uncertainty in her voice.
“As long as it takes,” Triss assured her, stepping closer. “Now rest. Ciri needs you. And we'll talk when you're ready.”
“Will you come with me tomorrow to pick up Pontar?” Yennefer asked, though she already knew what Triss would say.
“Of course,” Triss replied without hesitation. “Call when you're ready. I'll be waiting.”
They stood facing each other in the hallway, lit by the afternoon sun. So many unspoken words, so many feelings that were just beginning to have names. Yennefer stepped forward and embraced Triss, hugging her tightly. This embrace contained everything she couldn't put into words.
Triss returned the embrace, holding her just as tightly. “Everything will be alright,” she whispered in her ear. “Pontar is coming home. You two are safe. And I… I'm not going anywhere.”
When they finally separated, Triss smiled, then backed toward the door.
“Rest,” she said, opening the door. “You deserve it.”
“Text me when you get home, Triss.”
“Sure, don't worry.”
She watched as Triss got into her car and drove away. When she disappeared around the corner, Yennefer returned to the house, closing the door. The house seemed both empty without Pontar and full thanks to Ciri's presence. She could hear her daughter talking on the phone upstairs, excitedly telling the story of finding the dog. Everything would be alright.
She collapsed onto the couch, suddenly too tired to do anything more. The last two days had been an emotional rollercoaster. From terror, through despair, to incredible relief. She closed her eyes for a moment, still feeling Triss's warmth and their embrace.
Her phone pulled her from her thoughts. Geralt.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, answering.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, as always. “How's Pontar?”
“He's staying overnight at Shani's. We'll pick him up tomorrow.”
“Hmm,” Geralt grunted in his characteristic style. “Listen, I was thinking about something. Maybe Ciri should stay with me tonight. Or longer.”
“What?” Yennefer straightened slightly. “Why?”
“You're exhausted.” His voice softened. “And tomorrow you'll have to take care of Pontar. You need rest. Take Sunday and Monday off. Rest.”
“I don't know if that's a good idea,” she began, but deep down she knew he was right. She needed time for herself. Time to think through everything that had happened. “Ciri really wants to be with Pontar.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But you also need peace. All of you.”
She sighed, knowing he was right. “I'll talk to her.”
“Call me when you decide. I can come by this evening.”
The conversation with Ciri was, as usual, more of an emotional discussion. Her daughter had many questions and objections, but ultimately, perhaps seeing Yennefer's exhaustion, she agreed.
Yennefer also arranged Monday off and agreed with Philippa that once Pontar was home, and she knew more, they would determine what to do next. For now, she didn't want to plan too far ahead.
In the evening, when Geralt took Ciri away, the house became empty. Truly empty because Pontar, who was always with her, wasn't there. Being tired nearly knocked her off her feet. She barely made it upstairs, forced herself to take a shower, and fell asleep. She didn't even know when it happened.
She woke up after ten, which wasn't surprising in itself because she liked to sleep in, but usually, someone interrupted her. The first thing that came to mind was that she needed to let Pontar out. Then she remembered everything and felt anxiety at first, but that feeling quickly disappeared. Pontar was safe, but not at home.
She spent the morning tidying up the house. She washed all of Pontar's blankets, organized his bed, and prepared a fresh bowl of water and food. Additionally, she collected all the maps and other items related to the search operation. She drank coffee and, while snacking on wafers, wrote thank-you messages to each rescuer individually. She was immensely grateful for what they had done for her.
Around noon, Dr. Shani called and confirmed that she could come pick up the exceptionally well-behaved patient. She would provide more details in person.
However, Yennefer sensed what such a statement might mean. Torn ligaments sounded bad; at this moment, she resented her medical education. What if Pontar couldn't return to service? This thought was painful, but not as terrifying as the prospect of losing him forever.
After the call, she immediately called Triss while pacing nervously around the living room.
“I can pick up Pontar after three,” she said when Triss answered. “Will you come with me? Is everything still on?”
“Of course,” Triss replied without hesitation. “I'll be waiting.”
“Perfect. And… thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Triss's voice was warm, as always. “See you soon.”
The thought that the injury was serious hit her again when she looked at the dog's bed. She felt tension hanging over her like a dark, rain cloud. She tried not to think about it, not to analyze it. Not now. She would take care of the dog, monitor exercises and rehabilitation. It would be fine, right?
The collar.
She stopped in place, feeling a shiver of unease. It was strange, very strange. But she still didn't want to think about it. All she could do now was find another collar, one strong enough to keep him safely on the leash and strapped securely in the car.
***
Yennefer arrived to pick up Triss punctually; Triss was already waiting in the parking lot. She wore a light, cream-colored sweater and jeans, with her hair loosely tied at her nape. She looked so normal, perfect.
“How are you feeling?” Yennefer asked her as she got into the car.
“Better,” she answered honestly. “Well rested and ready for anything. Where's Ciri?”
“Geralt took her to his place; he knew I needed to rest.”
“That's nice of him.”
The drive to the clinic went quickly. Dr. Shani was already waiting for them, and Pontar, seeing Yennefer, tried to stand up from his bed, wagging his tail.
“Easy, boy,” said Shani, gently holding him back. “Your paw needs rest.”
Yennefer knelt beside him, carefully hugging him and whispering words in his ear that no one else could hear. Pontar pressed his muzzle against her neck, and his tail beat steadily against the floor. With Shani's permission, she also put on a different, black collar that didn't look as good as the red one.
“He needs lots of rest,” Shani instructed, as she fitted Pontar with a special brace on his paw. “No jumping, no running. Walks only on a short leash so he won't be tempted to run. Follow-up appointment next Monday.”
“And then what?” asked Yennefer, knowing the answer might not please her.
“We'll see,” Shani answered evasively. “The torn ligaments aren't serious enough to require surgery, but much depends on how it heals.”
“Will he return to full function?” Yennefer asked directly.
“He should. He’s strong. Healthy. If you follow the recovery plan and keep him calm, there’s a good chance. But let’s focus on this week. I’ll know more by the next checkup.”
Shani gave her detailed instructions, along with medication, a full medical report, and a signed note for work. She even updated Pontar’s vet book on the spot. As always, she did a perfect job.
After paying the steep bill and offering her hundredth thank-you, Yennefer stepped out of the exam room. Triss, waiting in the lobby, greeted Pontar the moment she saw him.
As always, he was as excited as a puppy to see her. Keeping him on a short leash, they moved slowly. The black brace on his paw looked very serious. For a moment, Yennefer thought about Triss's knee and her old injury.
When they reached the car, Yennefer supported Pontar as he got in. This time, the dog lay on the back seat, sprawling across it and taking up almost its entire length.
Before driving off, she looked at the smiling Triss who was glancing at the dog. Her blue eyes had regained that spark and joy.
***
When they arrived at Yennefer’s house, everything felt like it might actually return to normal.Pontar climbed out of the car carefully, favoring his injured leg, now stabilized in its brace. He paused for a moment on the edge of the lawn, sniffing the grass like he was making sure it was really his. Then, slowly, he made his way to the front door.
The house itself felt different, too. Like it had been holding its breath and could finally exhale. Pontar walked in with quiet focus, heading straight for the living room. He glanced at his water bowl in the corner, sniffed at it briefly, then continued on.
When he reached the soft dog bed waiting for him, he didn’t lie down right away. Instead, he stopped in the middle of the white, fluffy rug. He turned in a slow, cautious circle, then finally lowered himself onto the floor with a quiet sigh.
“Would you like some coffee? Or something to eat?” asked Yennefer, heading toward the kitchen. “I should have something in the fridge…”
Triss followed her in silence. Yennefer entered the kitchen and turned to face Triss, leaning her back against the counter. She rested her hands on its edge behind her, gently gripping the rim. Her head was slightly bowed, her shoulders tense. The solid counter at her back provided the physical support she so desperately needed right now.
She could feel her fingers unconsciously tapping a nervous rhythm on the wooden surface. Her heart hadn't slowed since they'd picked up Pontar from the vet—but now it wasn’t about the dog. It wasn’t him making her body disobey her mind again. It was the woman standing just a few steps away.
Her unwavering support over the past two days had worn down every wall Yennefer still had.
“I don't know how to thank you,” she finally said, momentarily taking one hand away to rub at her face. “I don't know what I would’ve done without you.”
Triss stood by the kitchen island—quiet, steady, present. As always.
“It was hard,” she replied gently. “For all of us.”
Yennefer finally raised her gaze. Triss looked tired but calm. In her eyes glowed that same warm light that always made Yennefer feel… safe.
“These last few days… all of it.” Yennefer began uncertainly, searching for the right words, gesturing slightly. She took a slow breath, catching the soft, familiar scent that always lingered around Triss. “I can’t imagine going through this without you.”
“You would’ve managed,” Triss said, but took a quiet step closer, as if she couldn’t help herself.
Yennefer shook her head, meeting her eyes.
“This isn’t about whether I could manage. It’s that I don’t want to. I don’t want you not being here.”
“I am here,” Triss replied, now standing just a breath away.
“But this… what I feel…” Yennefer’s voice softened, her breathing unsteady. “This friendship… it got away from me, Triss. I don’t know what to do with it anymore.”
She hadn’t planned to say it… Not now, not like this.
Triss froze. For a heartbeat, something flickered in her eyes—surprise, uncertainty… and something like hope.
“I… I tried to convince myself I was imagining it,” she admitted quietly. “All those little moments. The way you looked at me… the way you behaved...”
The truth of it hit her all at once. So Triss had felt it too. Her knees felt like cotton, and she tightened her grip on the edge of the counter.
“I thought it was just me again,” Triss went on. “Just me and my foolishness, imagining things. That someone like you could ever look at someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Yennefer blinked. “Triss, it’s just me. Cold, difficult, annoying.”
“I don’t see you that way,” Triss said simply, her voice full of quiet certainty. “You’re loyal. And brave. And you care… more than anyone gives you credit for.”
Yennefer felt completely exposed. But with Triss, that didn’t feel like danger.
It felt… like trust.
“But you’re the light, Triss,” she whispered, still holding her gaze.
“I don’t know what to say…” Triss admitted, biting her lip. “I’ve had this conversation in my head since that day in the café. Every version of it. But now…”
Yennefer reached for her without thinking. Triss's lips parted slightly, but no words came. She stepped into Yennefer’s arms, and this time there was no hesitation.
For the first time, they allowed themselves to be close. Really close.
Yennefer wrapped her arms around her, holding her carefully but completely. Her heart was pounding. Her hands were trembling. But for the first time all day, something in her settled.
It was going to be okay. It had to be.
She felt Triss sniff softly against her shoulder.
“Are you crying?” Yennefer asked, instinctively tightening her embrace.
“No, I just…” Triss let out a shaky laugh. “Damn it, I was so afraid, Yennefer. That it was all in my head. Again.”
“You weren’t imagining anything,” Yennefer said quietly. “I’m sorry if I hurt you without meaning to. I got confused. I tried to do the right thing, but…
“Everything’s fine now,” Triss said, pulling back slightly. She smiled gently, glancing—just for a second—at her lips. “Better than fine.”
Yennefer could now see her face up close. Her eyes were still damp, and her cheeks flushed. They were still holding each other. Still close. But they could be closer. From this distance, she noticed that without makeup, Triss’s lashes were lighter than usual. Somehow, even more beautiful.
Freckles dusted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose—more than Yennefer expected. Each one perfect. Yennefer’s gaze drifted to Triss’s lips. When their eyes met again, she knew Triss had noticed.
Heat crept into her cheeks. Too fast to hide. She felt herself blush. Actually blush. Like a teenager. She tried to say something, to shift the moment...
But Triss was faster.
“May I kiss you?” she asked, her voice barely more than breath. She leaned in slightly, tilting her head just a little to the right.
“Please,” Yennefer whispered, because holding back had become unbearable.
Triss slowly leaned forward, and time seemed to stretch, each second lasting an eternity, each millimeter of closeness was a conscious decision, a conscious crossing of a boundary she had never dared cross before.
The first touch of their lips was indescribable. For Yennefer, it was an overwhelming gentleness, yet it sent a shiver through her entire body. Triss's lips were soft, warm, perfectly fitted to her own, definitely narrower ones. She had never felt anything like this before—this softness, this tenderness. She was over thirty and had the impression that this was the first kiss she had been waiting for.
The kiss was brief, innocent, so different from anything Yennefer had known before. She took Triss's face in her trembling hands, feeling her skin beneath her fingers. Triss embraced her waist, drawing her closer, but not pressing, giving her space to breathe, to get used to this new territory.
“How long have you felt this way?” Triss whispered, her breath brushing Yennefer’s lips.
“Since the beginning,” she answered honestly. “I just didn’t realize it at first.” She opened her eyes. “I didn’t understand.”
“I never would’ve thought you...” Triss started, but didn’t finish.
Yennefer didn’t let her.
Something inside her shifted, like the last piece of a puzzle falling into place. And this time, when she kissed her again, it was with all the certainty she hadn’t had before.
This second kiss had none of the shyness of the first. It was deeper, more intense, as if all those weeks of feelings, hidden desires, suddenly found release. Yennefer felt Triss returning the kiss with equal fervor, felt her body arching slightly toward her, felt her hands wandering over Yennefer's back.
Her taste was addictive. Sweet, with the faint hint of the coffee she’d drunk earlier.
Her scent, warm and raspberry, wrapped around them like something familiar and comforting.
Their knees buckled slightly under the force of the kiss. The edge of the kitchen counter pressed into Yennefer’s back, but she didn’t care. Triss was close. And that was all that mattered.
She was completely lost in this moment. Her hands moved to Triss's neck, burying itself in her hair. It was silky under her fingers, exactly as she had imagined in those rare moments when she allowed her mind to wander in that direction.
When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, they were both breathing heavily, their cheeks flushed, eyes shining. But they didn't let go—they still stood entwined in the kitchen, as if afraid that if they separated, it would all turn out to be just a dream.
“I'm sorry...” she whispered. “I...”
“Is this too much?” Triss asked quietly. “After everything that's happened recently with Pontar and...?”
“Maybe,” Yennefer responded without thinking, her voice low, intense. “But I need you, Triss. Even if it’s complicated.”
Instead of answering with words, Triss pulled her close, embracing her and allowing her to hide her face in the hollow of her neck. The gesture said everything – that she understood, that she accepted, that there was space here for all of Yennefer's emotions.
Yennefer nestled against her with her whole being. They were close. Definitely too close for friends. Perfectly close.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered against Triss’s skin. “This is new. But I can’t pretend it’s just friendship anymore.”
“Neither can I,” whispered Triss, and in her voice was such relief, as if those words had freed her from a burden she had carried for weeks.
Notes:
I’ll be honest... wrangling all the emotions in this chapter was a challenge, and translating it? Even more so.
If you spot any repeats or mistakes, feel free to let me know, though I’m pretty sure my brain isn’t functioning properly after wrestling with this one 😅
Chapter 19
Notes:
They’ve earned a little peace.
(And honestly, so have we.)Enjoy the chapter! 💜💙
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They stood embracing longer than either could measure. Time seemed to flow differently as their bodies fit together with surprising naturalness. Yennefer felt Triss's warmth, her breath on her neck, and that delicate scent she never wanted to forget.
“Did we really do this?” she whispered, not moving away even a millimeter.
Triss laughed softly against her.
“Yes,” she answered, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “And I'd gladly do it again, if you'll let me.”
Yennefer moved her hand to her cheek and drew her into another kiss, slower this time. When they separated, both had slightly glistening eyes.
A sleepy sigh came from the living room. Pontar slept on as if nothing had happened.
“Did you hear that?” Triss smiled, glancing toward the dog. “I think Pontar just unconsciously approved of us.”
Us…
“He didn't have much choice, considering we both saved his life,” Yennefer replied, but the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile.
“Poor thing.” Triss moved slightly away from Yennefer, though her hands still rested on her waist. “He must be hungry. When did he last eat?”
“Shani said this morning. He's supposed to have food in his bowl when he's ready to eat.” Yennefer paused. “Damn, I was supposed to send Ciri a photo of him.”
“Send one now. Look how beautifully he's sleeping.”
Reluctantly, Yennefer stepped away from Triss and pulled her phone from her pocket. She walked over to Pontar and snapped a few pictures. He only twitched his nose in response, recognizing her scent and deciding there was no need to open his eyes. She sent the photos to Ciri, adding that he was fine and that they were both waiting for her tomorrow. Then she gently stroked the space between his eyes and headed back to the kitchen.
Triss was watching her with that gorgeous smile.
“I can't remember the last time I had a proper meal,” she said, setting her phone down.
“Then we should eat something,” Triss declared.
“I'm really wanting something homemade. I'm so done with fast food…”
“Perfect,” Triss nodded.
“I could cook us dinner.”
“Let me help,” Triss offered, moving aside. “What do you need?”
Yennefer met her gaze and saw something deeper than a simple offer to prep dinner.
“You,” she whispered. The word hung between them, charged with new meaning. Then she added with a smile, “And maybe a little help with chopping. How does spaghetti sound?”
“I love it!” Triss brightened. “Do you have everything?”
Yennefer frowned slightly.
“Not really… I haven't gone shopping since Pontar went missing.” She checked the fridge. “I'm out of meat. I could run to the store.”
“We’ll make it work. How about a simple tomato sauce, like a classic Napoli?” Triss suggested. “We just need some veggies and canned tomatoes. Do you have those?”
“I should.” Yennefer moved toward the pantry, and Triss followed.
“Perfect,” Triss rolled up her sleeves. “You handle the pasta; I'll do the sauce.”
Soon, the kitchen filled with the scent of simmering sauce. They moved around each other like always, but this time felt different. Everything had changed. Every accidental brush of hands and every quick glance made Yennefer fight back a smile—and the shivers? Those she couldn't suppress at all.
“I'll make us some coffee,” Triss said, turning toward the espresso machine. “It suits the evening.”
And that's when the thought came back to Yennefer—the one that had been haunting her since Pontar was found. Somewhere beneath the relief, the joy, and this overwhelming feeling for Triss, something gnawed at her.
She glanced at Triss, who smiled back without interrupting her preparations. In her eyes, Yennefer saw the same openness, the same warmth that had given her strength through these past days. If she was going to share her suspicions with anyone, it would be her.
“Triss,” she began, adding herbs to the sauce and stirring carefully. “There's something I've been thinking about since we found Pontar.”
Triss set their coffees on the counter and turned to face her, leaning her hip against the countertop.
“I'm listening,” she replied, her face showing complete focus.
Yennefer took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. She could dismiss it as paranoia, could keep her suspicions to herself, but that weight on her heart… She needed to get it out.
“I don't think it was an accident,” she finally said, her voice calm but firm. “That open gate. I think someone deliberately…”
Triss didn't look surprised. She moved closer to Yennefer, her arm lightly touching hers.
“I've been thinking that too,” she admitted quietly. “But I didn't want to tell you when you were already stressed enough.”
A weight Yennefer hadn't fully acknowledged suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She put down the spoon, looking at Triss.
“So it's not just my paranoia? I'm not going crazy?” The question revealed more vulnerability than she had intended, exposing the depth of her doubts.
Triss frowned slightly, looking at her with evident concern.
“Why would you think that? That you're going crazy?”
Yennefer sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“It's complicated, Triss.”
“What else is going on?” Triss asked quietly, stepping closer. “What aren't you telling me, Yennefer?”
The question hit straight to her core. Yennefer pondered for a moment, feeling a strange calm despite the weight of what she was about to share. She felt completely exposed, all her carefully constructed defensive walls dismantled by exhaustion, relief, and the emotional impact of Triss's touch. It was because of that kiss. She had no strength to rebuild those protective walls. To her surprise, she discovered she didn't need them. Not when Triss surrounded her like the safest fortress.
Besides, she wanted to build this on solid foundations. Only with honesty could this—whatever it was between them—work.
“There have been… incidents,” she began. “Remember those scratches on my car? I also had a flat tire, scattered glass, unsigned packages.” She took a calming breath, noticing how Triss's hand momentarily froze on her back before resuming its gentle movement. “I think someone's deliberately making my life difficult.”
“Have you told anyone?”
“You… just now.”
“Wait… seriously? Yennefer, why didn't you say anything?” Triss asked, visibly unsettled.
“What for? It seemed like it was just me. Just in my head.” The admission cost her a lot, but she knew she had to say it. She turned and stirred the sauce.
“How long has this been going on?” Triss's voice grew quieter, more careful. She stayed close.
“Since June…” The truth now flowed from her, unstoppable. “I didn't tell you because saying it out loud would make… has made it real. That it's not just my sick mind.”
“You're not sick. I saw those scratches on your car… Yennefer.” Her hand rested gently on Yennefer's back. “You could have told me.”
“It wouldn't have changed anything,” Yennefer said. She turned back to face her, lowering the heat on the stove. “You'd just worry too. Why would I burden you with that?”
“I was worried anyway, a little.” That confession surprised her. “Sometimes you seemed… different.”
“Well, that's mostly your fault…” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
“My fault?” Triss laughed lightly and stood across from her, looking into her eyes.
“You and your... everything,” Yennefer whispered, allowing herself a slight smile.
They both looked at each other for a moment, saying nothing. Triss broke the silence.
“Yennefer, you should report this,” she said.
“The police won't do anything about it anyway.” Yennefer sighed, shaking her head. “They already showed their capabilities when Pontar disappeared.”
“Oh, you're terribly stubborn.”
“I'm right, Triss. They won't do anything without evidence.”
Triss took a breath, clearly weighing something.
“Okay. Fine. We'll try it your way. We'll handle this ourselves, set up cameras on the house or in the car,” she said slowly. “But if anything else happens…”
“Triss…”
“No, Yennefer. If we can't manage this alone, we'll have to report it. You have to promise me you won't just let it go.”
Yennefer hesitated.
“I... I promise. But…”
“No buts,” Triss cut in, voice steady. “You take care of Pontar. I'll take care of security.”
She planted her hands on her hips, looking more determined than ever. That confidence both amused and touched Yennefer. Triss must have noticed, because her expression softened for a moment.
“Am I being too pushy?” she asked, quieter now.
“No.” Yennefer shook her head. “That's the most adorable thing anyone's ever done for me. And you're right about the cameras. I should have done it long ago.”
Triss smiled, more shyly than usual.
“You don't have to do it alone anymore, you know? Actually... you never had to. But...”
“I know.” Yennefer nodded, her voice softer. “And thank you, for being so patient with me.”
Triss let out a quick laugh.
“It wasn't always easy. But if you let me help, I'll forgive all your weirdness.”
“Forgive me? What about how many times I've saved you, Triss?”
“Exactly!” Triss stepped closer. “Now it's my turn, my rescuer.”
She wrapped her hands around Yennefer's hips and pulled her in. Yennefer didn't resist. If anything, she leaned into it—resting her forehead on Triss's shoulder.
“You're special, Triss,” she whispered.
Later they finished preparing dinner in silence, each lost in thought about their conversation. Finally, they sat at the table with steaming plates, and Yennefer felt the stress slowly leaving her body, replaced by a simple feeling of peace and comfort.
The food was good—simple but tasty. Conversation at the table flowed naturally, focusing mainly on Pontar, his health, and needs. Both were happy he finally felt safe.
“Ciri says she wants to cuddle him,” Yennefer said, glancing at her phone.
“I don’t blame her,” Triss smiled. “He’s basically a giant teddy bear. She’ll probably want to see him the moment school’s out.”
“Yeah,” Yennefer sighed. “I promised to pick her up, but… I’m a little nervous about leaving him alone. Even here, at home.”
“If you need help, I can...”
“Will you stay the night, Triss?” Yennefer cut in, quiet but certain.
Triss blinked, caught off guard for a second.
“If you don’t want to leave him alone, I can just grab an Uber later. Really, it’s no trouble.”
“No,” Yennefer said, biting her lip, her eyes meeting Triss’s. “It’s not just that. I just… don’t want to be alone tonight. But if you want to go home, I understand.”
There was a pause. Then Triss smiled softly, head tilted just a little.
“I’ll stay. Just give me something to sleep in.”
After dinner, they cleaned the kitchen together. When the last dishes were dried and put away, Triss embraced Yennefer from behind, hugging her back and resting her chin on her shoulder.
Yennefer froze for a fraction of a second, as if her body needed a moment to understand what was happening. And then… she relaxed. Let out her breath. Laughed quietly to herself.
“Can I do this?” asked Triss, her voice quiet and close.
“Yes,” Yennefer answered just as softly, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment.
“I'm going to take a bath, okay?” Triss whispered, touching her nose to the skin on Yennefer's neck.
“Sure,” Yennefer turned her head to look into her eyes. “I'll prepare something for you to sleep in.”
Triss released her, and together they went upstairs. She entered her bedroom and pulled out a comfortable t-shirt and loose shorts for Triss. She saw Triss standing shyly in the doorway, looking around the room. She gave her the clothes, and Triss disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Then she went downstairs and quickly checked the study. The bedding Triss had slept on two days ago was neatly folded on the couch. She didn't touch it—Triss would know how to make her bed.
She approached Pontar and gently gave him his pill, grateful that he would take it from her hands without hiding it in dog food. The dog was still drowsy, so she let him continue resting.
Yennefer returned to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and waited for Triss to finish her bath. She could hear the sound of water from the upstairs bathroom. Thoughts swirled in her head—about Pontar, about the mysterious disappearance, about Triss.
Especially about Triss.
She shook her head, smiling to herself. So much stress and uncertainty. She could have done this earlier, couldn't she? She bit her lip, remembering the touch of Triss's lips on hers and the feeling when Triss embraced her from behind. Damn, it felt so good… She closed her eyes and daydreamed for a moment. Triss felt the same way. It was extraordinary.
Finally, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Triss came down, her hair damps from the bath, wearing the borrowed clothes. She looked stunning even in that simple outfit. She smiled radiantly, as if all the day's worries had been washed away in the shower.
“Thanks for these,” Triss said, stopping in the kitchen doorway.
“You're welcome,” Yennefer replied, setting down her glass. “Do they fit?”
“Perfectly,” Triss did a small twirl, and Yennefer felt her heart speed up at the sight.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other in silence, until finally Yennefer cleared her throat lightly.
“I'm going to take a bath too,” she said. “Make yourself at home.”
“I'll try,” Triss replied quietly.
Yennefer smiled uncertainly and headed upstairs.
In the bathroom, she allowed herself a long, relaxing bath. After all the stressful events of the past few days, she needed a moment to herself. When she got out of the tub, she carefully dried her body and hair, then put on her nightshirt.
Her thoughts constantly returned to Triss—to the feeling of being in her arms, to the gentle touch of hands in her hair, to the brief but electrifying meeting of their lips.
Entering her bedroom, Yennefer felt an overwhelming emptiness. Despite her exhaustion, the awareness that Triss was so close yet so far away, made the prospect of sleeping alone unbearable. Besides, Pontar was downstairs—she should keep an eye on him, right? At least that's what she told herself.
Without thinking too long, she went downstairs barefoot. Each step on the wooden stairs sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet house.
The dog slept peacefully. Safe. She stroked him gently on the head.
She looked around and noticed a ray of light seeping from under the study door. Triss wasn't asleep yet. She hesitated. She should have returned to her bedroom, or stayed with the dog, but... she didn't want to. Unbidden thoughts of their earlier kiss in the kitchen returned with doubled force.
She knocked softly.
“Come in,” Triss called.
Yennefer pushed the door and saw Triss sitting on the unfolded couch. Leaning against the wall, with her legs under the blanket bent at the knees and phone in hand, she smiled at the sight of her.
“Still awake?” Yennefer asked, stopping at the threshold.
“Checking security cameras...” Triss raised her phone. “And you? Something wrong?”
“Can't sleep. I was checking on Pontar and saw the light...”
Triss moved over slightly, making room for her.
“Sit down. Maybe you'll fall asleep sitting next to me like last time?”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow.
“No, back then it was the keyboard sound that put me to sleep, don't take credit for that, Merigold.”
“I thought it was my calming voice...”
“Maybe you'll read me product warranties next?”
“Only if you're good. Customer reviews I save for special occasions,” Triss replied with a smile.
Yennefer snorted, but sat down beside her, leaning against the wall like Triss. She felt the chill through the thin material of her shirt.
“You're really sitting up at night watching cameras?”
“Someone has to take care of you, since you won't do it yourself,” Triss looked at her with genuine concern.
“It's not like I asked for help,” Yennefer muttered more quietly.
“Yet here you are.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Yennefer shrugged slightly.
Triss just nudged her leg with her knee. Sitting so close was strangely... soothing.
After a moment, Yennefer felt goosebumps on her legs. Triss must have noticed because, without a word, she reached for the blanket and covered her legs with it too.
“Better?”
“Mhm.”
A pleasant silence fell. Triss returned to browsing her phone, occasionally showing Yennefer a camera image with a comment. Each time she nudged her with her knee or elbow. Yennefer nodded, though her thoughts were circling completely different matters.
“This one looks perfect,” Triss said, shifting to better show the screen. Her knee touched Yennefer's leg under the blanket again.
Yennefer was already sitting with her eyes half-closed and instinctively placed her hand on Triss's knee, as if to keep it still. And then… she didn't take it away. Something stopped her. Instead, her fingers began, almost unconsciously, to gently stroke Triss's knee.
The phone browsing continued, but the rhythm of Triss's breathing changed slightly. She wasn't nudging Yennefer anymore. Yennefer rested her head against the wall, listening to Triss's quiet breathing. She caught herself, slowly moving her hand up and down Triss's knee in a hypnotizing, slow motion. She didn't know when it had started or why she couldn't stop.
Her thoughts flowed more slowly than usual. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed this closeness. For so many years.
And now? She had it here, beside her. But did she really? If Triss didn't want this, she wouldn't have let her stay, right? She must have wanted it just as much. But what exactly did Yennefer want? Her thoughts went in circles, stubbornly trying to understand what had just happened between them and why she had really come to her. In the middle of the night.
She felt a gaze on her and opened her eyes. Triss wasn't looking at her phone, but straight at her. The soft, warm light of the lamp was reflected in her blue irises. She saw a different gleam in them, though. It made her heart quicken.
“What?” she asked quietly.
“Nothing, I can hear you thinking,” Triss replied just as quietly, sliding her phone under the pillow. “Do you always analyze everything this much?”
“Yes,” Yennefer admitted. “Sometimes I wish I could turn it off.”
“What are you thinking about?” Triss moved slightly closer, her legs resting against Yennefer's thighs under the blanket. She touched her fingertips to Yennefer's hand, the one lying on her knee.
“About you…”
“What about me?”
Yennefer bit her lip and tightened her hand on her knee.
“I think I need you,” she murmured, somewhat embarrassed, “but I think I've said that already.”
“I'm here,” Triss whispered, lightly leaning against her arm. “For you.”
Yennefer didn't answer. She couldn't because Triss's hand slipped under the blanket and touched the skin on her thigh. Close to her knee, safe… but intense. Exceptionally intense for such an innocent gesture.
Yennefer's heart was beating fast. This was the moment when she could withdraw, let Triss know she wasn't ready for any of this. But despite the fear, despite the sudden surge of panic—she didn't want to. After so many weeks of tension, after so many sleepless nights full of thoughts about Triss, she wasn't going to run away. Would there ever be a better moment? Would she ever be more ready for anything?
She looked at her, their faces close together. This time she didn't have to fight. She wanted to kiss Triss and she could do it.
She leaned in, and their lips met. This kiss was different from the one in the kitchen. It was more passionate but still unsure. Yennefer's hand released Triss's knee and traveled higher. She touched her cheek, turned more toward her, and slowly threaded her fingers through her hair. She still felt the warmth of Triss's hand on her thigh and her fingers gently tightening.
“Yennefer… are you really...?”
“Oh gods, if you ask if I'm sure, I'll lose it,” Yennefer blurted out, her voice impatient and tense. “I'm not sure, Triss. I want this... but... I don't know how and...”
She growled softly and exhaled, tilting her face toward the ceiling as if trying to escape herself. But Triss wouldn't let her retreat—not now. She gently cupped Yennefer's face in both hands and guided her gaze back to meet hers.
“I want this too... I want you.”
“I've never been with a woman,” Yennefer confessed quietly.
“I know,” Triss replied softly. “I mean... I figured.”
“I need you close. Closer than… this.” Yennefer's voice was barely audible.
Triss leaned in, kissing her gently. Yennefer barely pulled back to murmur,
“Play it slow.”
“Why would I rush something like this?”
She kissed her again. This time, their movements grew less careful—hungrier, more urgent, clumsy in their eagerness.
Their hands explored each other, still separated by the thin fabric of their shirts. Bare thighs tangled under the blanket. Triss let out a soft breath against Yennefer's lips, and the sound sent a shiver running down her spine.
Everything was happening slowly, and yet still too fast for Yennefer. Triss tried to ease her down gently, but the movement was awkward, and both of them lost balance. They stumbled, then laughed quietly as they collapsed onto the couch.
“I'm sorry…”
“It's okay, Triss.”
Triss pressed her forehead into Yennefer's neck, settling beside her. Yennefer lay on her back, knees slightly bent, breathing shallowly. Triss was right there, body against body, face tucked close to her throat. One hand reached for the blanket and pulled it over them both, then slowly slid Yennefer's shirt up.
“Can I?” she whispered, her warm breath caressing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.
Yennefer shuddered.
“Yes... please...” she breathed, tilting her head slightly as if offering her neck to be kissed.
Triss lifted the shirt higher—painfully slowly—and slipped her hand underneath. Her fingers met bare skin just below Yennefer's navel, moving gently, almost reverently. The heat between them thickened, stretched taut with every shallow breath.
Yennefer exhaled shakily. One hand clenched the sheet beneath her, the other roamed across Triss's back through the fabric of her shirt.
Every touch from Triss lit her skin on fire, and yet anxiety still churned in her chest. She didn't know what she was doing. She kept trying to analyze each movement, each response—and then realized she was thinking about not thinking. At last, forcing herself to be brave, she slipped her own hand under Triss's shirt and found warm, soft skin.
Triss trembled beneath her touch, her breath catching. That moment stilled the storm in Yennefer's head. She pressed her body closer, burying herself in the feeling.
Triss leaned up on one elbow and began to kiss her neck. First featherlight touches. Then deeper, slower, trailing down toward her collarbone. Each kiss made Yennefer arch toward her, breathless moans slipping out before she could catch them.
“You're beautiful,” Triss whispered as her lips explored Yennefer's trembling skin. “All of you.”
She pushed Yennefer's shirt up higher, exposing her chest. Yennefer flushed deeply, vulnerable and unsure, but didn't stop her. She lifted her back slightly, helping Triss tug the fabric out of the way. The blanket still draped over parts of them, but she could feel the cool air against her bare skin. Only for a moment—because then Triss's warm lips found the center of her chest.
Her hand cupped Yennefer's breast, and then a soft kiss landed on the stiffening nipple. Yennefer gasped, legs tensing tighter. Her breath caught in her throat.
Their eyes met. Triss lifted her head just slightly, her gaze flicking up from beneath her lashes. And that was it. That one look.
Her eyes. Her breath against her skin. And then her tongue again.
Yennefer's head fell back onto the pillow with a shaky exhale, her fingers tightening in the sheets. She was gone again. Drowning.
Triss kissed her gently over her heart, and returned to her breast. Another soft moan escaped Yennefer's lips. She felt Triss's hand trailing slowly along her sides. Yennefer closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the feeling, to focus on touch, on Triss's warmth, on the sweet weight of her body against hers. But it wasn't so easy.
What if she doesn't like what she sees? What if… Fuck...
Triss's hand wandered lower, resting on Yennefer's stomach, which rose and fell in a quickened rhythm. Her fingers traced small circles, approaching the edge of her underwear.
“May I?” Triss murmured against her skin, still trailing kisses across her chest.
“Mhmm,” Yennefer moaned, aware of how different her voice sounded.
Triss continued caressing her stomach for a moment. Yennefer could feel trembling between them, though she wasn't sure if it was Triss or herself shaking so intensely. She felt Triss's uneven breath against her skin. Focusing on each sensation, she held her breath as Triss finally, with gentle hesitation, touched her most intimate place through the thin fabric of her underwear.
Yennefer let out a raw sound, instinctively tightening her thighs around Triss's hand, then slowly relaxed them. Trusting her. Giving her more access.
Triss's fingers moved in gentle circles through the fabric, until they slipped beneath it, finding warm wetness. Yennefer inhaled sharply, her body tensing as her hands clutched the material of Triss's shirt. Triss paused, giving her time to adjust to this new sensation.
Yennefer had her eyes still closed. Triss began slow, gentle movements, discovering what gave Yennefer pleasure. There was no hurry, no pressure. And that undid Yennefer more than anything before. This pace and sensitivity overwhelmed her in a way she had always needed but never found.
She moved closer, burying her face in Triss's neck. Her breathing became shallower, broken. Triss's hand moved confidently, finding the right rhythm, the right spot. Her lips placed gentle kisses on Yennefer's temple, on her cheek, along her jawline.
“Stay with me,” she whispered.
Yennefer didn't answer with words, but her body spoke for her. Tense muscles, accelerated pulse, tightly clenched hands. She felt something inevitable building inside her, something she couldn't stop or control. She felt pleasure, closeness... but still also a slight anxiety.
“Hold me...” she moaned barely audibly into her neck.
“I've got you,” she whispered.
Triss wrapped her free arm around her shoulders, giving her support as her body began to tremble. Yennefer pressed into her harder, as if wanting to hide. She closed her eyes and tightened her hands even more as the first waves of pleasure passed through her body. Her muscles tensed sharply, then froze for a moment before shuddering waves passed through her—violent, almost wild. She moaned softly.
She thrust her hips, and her legs tightened around Triss's hand, as if wanting to hold onto that feeling and escape it at the same time.
Yennefer suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. Triss didn't let go, still holding her close. Her hand gently slipped out and wrapped around her waist, but her arm remained around her, providing warmth and security. Her lips placed gentle kisses on her shoulder and arm.
“My, oh my...” Yennefer whispered quietly, regulating her breath. She felt Triss smile as she placed a kiss on her temple.
For a long moment, they lay intertwined, breathing in the same rhythm. Yennefer slowly opened her eyes, uncertain what she would see on Triss's face. She found only tenderness and something much deeper.
“Hey,” Triss whispered, brushing a strand of hair from Yennefer's forehead.
“Hey,” she replied, her voice hoarse, as if unused for years.
“Are you okay?”
Yennefer hesitated. Was she okay? It was both embarrassing and liberating—lying there, partially naked, in Triss's arms.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “That was...” she searched for the right word, but all seemed insufficient. “Thank you.”
Triss laughed softly, touching her nose to her cheek and moving slowly across it.
“I don't think I deserve thanks, but I'll take it.”
Yennefer felt a blush spread across her cheeks.
“And you?” she asked uncertainly. “I'd like to...”
Triss silenced her with a gentle kiss.
“We have time,” she said softly.
Yennefer looked up at her, tension written across her face. She touched the back of Triss's neck and pulled her in for a deeper kiss.
“I want... I want to touch you, Triss,” she whispered when they broke apart.
Triss smiled softly, though a shadow of surprise appeared in her eyes.
“You don't have to... I know this isn't...”
“Please, just...” Yennefer interrupted, her voice low and tight.
She guided Triss down gently, taking the lead this time. She laid her across the soft pillows, and Triss's hair spilled out like a copper flame, glowing in the dim light against the white sheets. She looked more beautiful than ever.
Yennefer's hand found her stomach and paused there. Then slowly, she moved upward, to her chest. She hesitated, just grazing the curve of her breast with her fingers, holding her breath.
Then her hand slid lower, following the line of Triss's body. To her hips, her thighs. She never took her eyes off her. Focused. Careful. As if she wanted to memorize every inch of her skin. She knew a woman's body perfectly, but now she didn't feel even a bit more confident.
Triss watched her through half-lidded eyes. “You don't have to be so careful with me,” she whispered.
Yennefer exhaled. Her hand began moving again, but not as naturally as she had planned. She kissed Triss's neck instead. That felt better. Natural. She let her hands explore while she focused on kissing her—smelling and tasting her skin. It was intoxicating.
She tugged gently at Triss's shirt, pulling it downward, but Triss suddenly froze and caught her by the wrist.
“What is it, Triss?” Yennefer looked into her eyes.
“My scars, Yen…” she whispered, fragile. “They're ugly.”
“Triss… please, don't hide from me.”
“Could you turn off the light?”
The vulnerability in her voice hit Yennefer like a wave. She would've done anything for her in that moment. Yennefer reached behind the couch without hesitation, pulling the plug from the outlet. The room darkened instantly, lit only by a soft glow from the streetlamp outside.
“We don't have to if you're not comfortable,” Yennefer began, leaning down, fumbling slightly until her hand found Triss's cheek.
“I want to,” Triss replied. “I trust you.”
Those words made Yennefer burn all over again.
She silenced her own thoughts with another kiss, feeling Triss lean into her. She tugged the shirt down as she'd intended and kissed her way to her collarbone, feeling the uneven texture of her skin. It wasn't perfectly smooth, but it didn't matter. Especially not when Triss let out those sweet, breathy sounds. Those sounds urged her forward. Despite everything.
After a moment, Yennefer brushed her lips over her chest, still through the shirt. Triss's hand flew to the back of her neck. When she kissed lower, to her nipple, Triss moaned—loudly, from her throat, unrestrained.
“Oh gods,” she gasped.
Yennefer trembled, still reading Triss's every response. She noted, carefully, that her breasts were sensitive. That she liked this. That was important. Something clicked inside her. A part of Yennefer opened up, realizing what it meant to give pleasure. How satisfying it could be.
She placed her hand on Triss's stomach and began to move lower, toward the waistband of her shorts. Then paused. She exhaled. Her heart was racing, pulsing in her chest, her neck... between her legs.
She looked at Triss, who was watching her like no one ever had before. With trust. With patience.
Yennefer followed the same path Triss had taken because she had no better idea, and trusted what Triss had shown her. Without breaking eye contact, she slid her hand lower, feeling the soft fabric of her shorts and moving between Triss's thighs. She watched her face carefully. Watched how pleasure settled over her.
Triss's breath quickened, her body reacting even to the lightest touch. Encouraged, Yennefer continued, her movements becoming steadier, more intentional.
But as her fingers reached the waistband again, that flicker of hesitation returned. She needed help. Guidance. But the words stuck in her throat.
Triss saw it. Of course, she did.
“May I lead you?” Triss's voice was no louder than breath.
Yennefer nodded.
She guided Yennefer's hand under the fabric of her shorts. Their fingers brushed, and then—together—they pressed against her skin. It was strange. Intense. Familiar in some ways, but completely different. It wasn't her own body. It felt warmer, softer and it wasn't humiliating, as she had feared. It was intimate—on a level she hadn't known existed. Like Triss was sharing a secret. Something sacred.
“Yes,” Triss whispered, as they found the right place, the right rhythm. “Right there. Just like that.”
Yennefer was charmed by her reactions—the way her face became more open, more sensitive. Triss had always worn her emotions visibly, but now... now it was so much more.
As Triss's pleasure built, she pressed their joined hands harder against herself, her movements growing erratic. It was difficult to keep the rhythm, but that loss of control was incredibly arousing. Yennefer felt heat of desire.
She leaned in, kissing her neck, her shoulders. Then, with her free hand, she pulled back Triss's shirt and kissed her breast, her tongue teasing the nipple. Triss shivered intensely, a sharp, high sound escaping her lips.
“Don't stop... please...”
Yennefer was awestruck. Though she still felt uncertain, Triss responded to every touch. She looked like a goddess beneath her, twisting and trembling.
She kept her hand steady, her mouth never leaving Triss's breast. Her gaze was locked on Triss's face, watching her approach the edge. There was something hypnotic about watching someone you desire surrender to the pleasure you created together.
Triss gripped her hand tightly, her hips moving with increasing urgency. Yennefer pressed her lips harder to her skin.
“Yen... I… oh!”
Waves of pleasure tore through her body. Her thighs clenched, then relaxed. Her knees fell to the side, resting against Yennefer's ribs. Her moan was soft. Less like an explosion and more like a release she desperately needed.
Their hands stayed entwined between her legs. It was intimate. Overwhelming. And perfect.
“You're stunning, Triss...” Yennefer whispered in awe. “So damn stunning.”
“Your... gods, Yennefer...” Triss panted, still catching her breath.
Yennefer hesitated, then kissed her neck again and whispered,
“For a second, I thought maybe... you didn't really need me.”
“Oh, don't be ridiculous...” Triss groaned. “Without you, it wouldn't have been half as good. Damn...”
“Really?” Yennefer looked at her, uncertain.
Triss slowly guided their joined hands up to her stomach, their fingers still linked.
“Yes, Yennefer,” she said with quiet certainty.
As the rush faded, Triss smiled—softly, beautifully, with her eyes half-closed. She looked sensual. Feminine. And Yennefer loved that.
“That was...” Triss began, then laughed softly. “Wonderful.”
Yennefer leaned her forehead against her shoulder, feeling peace settle in. She needed those words.
Triss reached up, her fingers gently brushing through Yennefer’s hair.
“You know,” she said softly, “I was afraid you'd pull away after. That this would just be… a moment you'd want to leave behind. But you stayed.”
“Of course I stayed,” Yennefer replied, a little surprised. “I don't do things for the moment. If I'm here, I mean it.”
Triss smiled, like that sentence had landed somewhere deep inside her.
“Good.”
Yennefer nestled in close beside her, still pressed against her. They lay in silence, tangled together under the blanket. Triss scooted closer, their legs tangling again, deliciously warm.
“Stay here for tonight.”
“Will I fall asleep next to you?” Yennefer asked in a whisper. “Without the noise in my head?”
“Try,” Triss replied. “And I'll be here if you don't.”
She shifted on the pillow and raised her arm, making room. The gesture was so natural it tugged at something in Yennefer's chest. She hesitated only a moment before slipping under it, laying her head on Triss's shoulder, curling her knees up.
Triss wrapped her other arm around her, pulling her closer. Her body began to relax. Not fully. But enough.
Triss tugged at the blanket, untangling it from their legs, then pulled it up over them both, making sure neither of them was left in the cold. Then she kissed Yennefer's forehead. Yennefer purred softly like a cat.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, Yennefer,” Triss whispered back, holding her tighter.
A pause. Then one more sentence, spoken softly into her hair:
“Everything is okay. Really.”
Yennefer didn't analyze the words. Didn't pick them apart. She just believed them.
The first rays of sunlight were timidly slipping into the room, illuminating the floor and bookshelf with warm light. They hadn't yet reached the couch where they slept. Yennefer opened her eyes, warmed only by Triss's closeness.
Had Triss become her sun?
This thought crossed her mind as she lay nestled against her back, face pressed to the warm skin at her nape. Her thick curls tickled her cheeks, but Yennefer didn't move them. She didn't want to wake her. For a moment, she remained still, absorbing this new feeling of morning with her. She traced her shape with her eyes, the outline of her shoulder, the curve of her waist where her arm was draped. She had slept curled against her all night, trusting as never before.
Involuntarily, she moved closer, pressing her face between the pillow and the hollow of her neck. In the brighter light, she noticed freckles on Triss's shoulders – tiny dots she hadn't seen in the darkness. They were everywhere, small and larger ones, creating unique patterns.
She gently ran her nose over them, and then kissed her shoulder. The touch of her lips was light as a feather.
“Good morning, December morning,” she suddenly heard Triss's quiet voice, and she was sure she was smiling to herself. Then she felt a slight movement of her arm as Triss took her hand that was resting on her stomach, interlaced their fingers, and pulled it closer to her chest. They were even closer now. Yennefer kissed the top of her shoulder again and leaned in.
“Good morning, Triss Merigold,” she murmured directly into her ear, deliberately letting her breath brush the sensitive skin there. She remembered how Triss had reacted to that last night, and the slight shiver that ran through her body now only confirmed it.
Triss turned slowly until they were face to face. For a long moment, they just looked at each other, studying one another in the daylight. This moment seemed like a different form of intimacy. More exposed than what had happened in darkness.
“If you had to give me a similar Instagram name to yours, what would it be?” she asked quietly, touching her cheek and tucking her black hair behind her ear.
“Hmm... I might not think straight today...” she said with a playful gleam in her eye, “but... August afternoon?”
“Why?”
“Everything is golden then, in the fields. Like your hair,” she said, closing her eyes under Triss's touch. “I thought about autumn, but autumn is cool. You're warm, so definitely summer afternoon.”
“That's sweet.”
“And you? What would you call yourself?”
“What do you think about September night?”
Yennefer opened her eyes, meeting cornflower blue irises. She saw the blush on Triss's face that betrayed embarrassment and slight uncertainty. It was a shame it had been dark last night; despite the confidence with which Triss had guided them both, Yennefer was convinced she had blushed even more than now. She must have looked even more beautiful.
“I like it,” she murmured. “I like it very much.”
“Is everything okay?” Triss suddenly asked, her voice containing both hope and uncertainty. “With us?”
“I think it's better than okay,” Yennefer replied, leaning in to kiss her. It was stronger than her, this need for closeness, as natural as breathing. Triss would be her weakness, she thought, and she didn't mind at all.
“Any regrets?” Triss asked as her hands found Yennefer's body and pulled her closer.
“Do I look like I have regrets?” she whispered into her ear again.
Her hand gently slid the blanket from Triss's shoulder, and her lips followed the exposed skin, down her neck. But Triss took her face in her hands and pulled it toward her mouth.
“Are you sure this doesn't bother you?” she asked softly.
Yennefer frowned slightly, her lips still against Triss's.
“Triss…”
“Yennefer, please… I need words, you know that…”
“What would bother me?”
“My scars…” Triss's voice was barely audible. “You know, in daylight they might look even worse…”
Yennefer looked at her with a little surprise.
“Do you remember anything from last night? We talked about this, Triss...”
“Yes, but... you didn't see them so clearly.”
“I need you real, I want you just as you are, Triss... That hasn't changed just because the sun came up.” To emphasize this, she bent her head and brushed her lips against her collarbone, where the skin felt slightly different to the touch.
These marks were part of Triss, inseparably connected to who she was. How could anything that belonged to her be anything other than precious?
She kissed her again, then nestled in her arms, but her hands continued to caress the delicate curve of her ribs and the indentation at her waist.
“Should we get up?” Triss asked after a while, playing with Yennefer's hair.
“No…” Yennefer's response was immediate, almost childlike.
“No?”
“Just a little longer,” Yennefer sighed, embracing her more tightly. “It's very early.”
“We'll just lie here?” Triss laughed softly.
“Yes, I like it here,” Yennefer said, too honestly, but in Triss's arms it came easily.
“Who would have thought you're such a cuddler?” Triss joked, though her arms tightened around Yennefer, contradicting any desire to get up.
“I am,” Yennefer admitted with a slight smile. “But you can't tell anyone...”
They looked at each other, and something more than simple words danced in their eyes.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Triss promised, kissing her forehead. Then, with a playful gleam in her eye, she added, “As long as you want to keep it.”
“And what if I want to keep you?” Yennefer asked, the question escaping her lips before she had time to analyze it.
Triss's smile was like sunrise.
“I think that can be arranged,” she whispered.
They lay there lazily tangled in the bedding, until a moment later Yennefer heard uneven footsteps. The soft click of nails on the panels approached the study door. They stopped, and both heard him sniffing under the door.
“Pontar,” Yennefer raised her head.
As if in response, the dog whimpered softly.
“I think someone needs to go out,” Triss stroked her arm, giggling.
“Damn, it's so early…”
“He was inside all day yesterday.”
Yennefer sighed, reluctantly pulling away. She already missed the warmth of her body. She stood up and adjusted her shirt, pulling it down more over her hips. She ran her hand through her long hair. Triss watched her with a smile, wrapping herself more tightly in the blanket.
“Watch carefully because this is a rare sight.” Yennefer threw a glance over her shoulder, pointing at herself. “Me, getting up without complaining at such an ungodly hour.”
“I'll mark the date in my calendar,” Triss murmured, stretching lazily under the blanket. “Is there even a tiny bit of my influence in this lack of complaining?”
“There is, but very small. Tiny, really,” she replied sarcastically, no longer looking at her but smiling to herself.
Yennefer opened the door and found Pontar sitting behind it with his head tilted, and one paw raised up, so as not to touch the floor. At the sight of her, he wagged his tail.
“What is it, big guy?” she asked, crouching beside him. “Want to go out?”
The dog sighed deeply, which sounded like confirmation.
“Alright,” Yennefer stroked him between the ears and gently touched his paw. “Everything okay? You don't look like it hurts too much.”
Pontar made another funny sound. Yennefer stood up and threw on a jacket she found on the coat rack by the door. Then she took out a leash and attached it to the black collar. By the front door, she spotted her slip-on sneakers. She quickly put them on her bare feet, grimacing with disgust.
It was early. just after dawn. The air was cool and heavy with dew, the kind that clung to every blade of grass and soaked through shoes in seconds. A light mist still lingered low over the lawn, softening the edges of the world. The sky was pale gray, slowly brightening, and though the sun hadn't broken through yet, there was a quiet sense that it would.
She walked slowly because the dog was still avoiding putting weight on his paw. Usually at this hour she would still be in bed, or she'd let him out into the yard, closing the door and escaping back to the warm house. Instead, here she was in her pajamas, with wet shoes, leading an enormous dog on a leash around her yard. The absurdity of the situation made her chuckle to herself.
Pontar, despite his weakness, was doing much better than yesterday. He looked as if he had slept off the exhaustion from his adventures and had the strength to face his injury. That was good. He moved more slowly than usual, but didn't seem to be in great pain. He sometimes stopped to sniff the lawn thoroughly.
Her thoughts rolled around last night. She felt strange – free, light, as if she'd shed some burden. But also completely open. She had shown Triss her defenselessness, her uncertainty, something she had never shown another woman before. With men, it had been decidedly different. She felt that difference now.
And somehow, she was almost certain… that this was what she'd been searching for her whole life.
She still couldn't believe she hadn't seen it earlier in life. So many things could have gone differently. Although... would she and Triss have had any chance then? Maybe it was meant to be this way?
Staring at Pontar's back, she realized she had no idea what life looked like after such a night. How to behave? Would they be together now? What did that even mean? Would Triss want more mornings like this?
Pontar finally finished his morning ritual and looked at her as if she were the one prolonging their walk. Yennefer rolled her eyes and led him back to the house. She removed Pontar's leash, and he immediately shook himself and trotted toward the kitchen and his food bowl. That was a good sign. Yennefer took off her soaked shoes, grimacing with disgust.
She turned and went upstairs. In the shower, she let the hot water warm her cold body. With her eyes closed, she could almost feel Triss's hands on her body, her lips on her skin. She ran her fingertips over the places Triss had touched during the night, as if trying to preserve those memories.
As she came downstairs, dressed in comfortable jeans and a black sweater, she tried to look normal. As if nothing extraordinary had happened.
The familiar sound of the coffee maker came from the kitchen. She paused.
Triss stood with her back turned, still in the same t-shirt and shorts, her hair tousled. When she reached for the cups, Yennefer found herself looking at her legs—long, graceful, bare to the thighs. Images appeared in her mind, especially those from the previous night, which she couldn't yet organize.
Triss turned around, quickly sized her up, and then their eyes met. Both frozen for a fraction of a second. Both embarrassed.
“Sorry,” they said simultaneously, quietly.
They fell silent, then burst into laughter.
“I'll go to the bathroom and freshen up,” Triss said, setting one of the cups on the counter.
“Of course, thanks for the coffee.”
“Mhm,” Triss smiled, disappearing up the stairs.
Yennefer remained in the kitchen. She reached for the cup and sat at the table, staring absently at the empty seat beside her. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the ceramic into her palms as her thoughts drifted. She wasn't sure how long she'd been lost in her reflections when the sound of footsteps on the stairs pulled her back to the present.
When Triss came back downstairs, dressed in her jeans from yesterday and a cream-colored blouse, Yennefer felt as if something had changed.
She couldn't put it into words, but she felt it watching Triss's jeans and sweater replace her t-shirt and messy hair. As if something had closed. As if they were returning to normalcy. To the versions of themselves that each had known before.
Yennefer again didn't know what to do next.
With men, it had been easier. Everyone had ingrained patterns. She never thought it was good, but that's how it was. It manifested itself to varying degrees and at least gave some direction to start with. There were rules. She knew what to do, what to say, when to pretend she didn't care, when to leave. But with Triss?
With Triss, everything was different. Or maybe she just couldn't understand it.
She didn't know if she should smile. Kiss her hello? What were the rules after such a night? Were there any rules at all?
Triss approached and sat down next to her, very close. They sat for a moment in comfortable silence, sipping coffee. The morning light had strengthened now, the sun's rays finally breaking through, flooding the kitchen with brightness. Everything seemed more real. Triss looked at her.
“You're thinking very loudly again, Yennefer.”
“There's a lot to think about,” she admitted, then added with surprising honesty, “I know what I want. I'm just not entirely sure how to... proceed.”
Triss's expression softened.
“You don't need a procedure for this.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Really?” Triss raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I know what I'm doing?”
“You've been with women before.”
“Yes, but not with you,” Triss said shyly. “This is different.”
Yennefer didn't answer with words. Instead, she gently raised her hand and brushed away a wayward strand that had fallen across Triss's forehead. Her fingers lingered for a moment at her temple, lightly caressing it. Then, with a barely noticeable smile, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth.
This was her way of responding, and she hoped Triss understood. And that for now would be enough.
“We don't need to figure everything out today,” Triss added quietly.
“I know,” she replied, though part of her did want to define. To know exactly what this was, where it was going. “Do you want breakfast?” she safely changed the subject.
“No, coffee is enough,” Triss said. “I'll order an Uber and probably eat when I get home.”
“I'll drive you,” Yennefer said automatically.
“What about Pontar? You said...”
“I'll take him with me, I was thinking about it. He can lie in the car, he'll be safer than here...”
“I'll call my friend today, maybe we can get a camera right away.”
“Triss, it's fine...”
“No, not 'fine'... you can't feel bad in your home, please...”
Yennefer said nothing, just bit her lip and took a sip of coffee. Triss was right again.
“I'll call you this evening when I manage to arrange something, okay?”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Anything for you,” she smiled and placed her hand on her thigh.
The September sunlight continued to move slowly across the floor. Yennefer thought that perhaps she should trust Triss and herself more. She hadn't planned what happened between them; in fact, she had intended to follow a completely different path.
Yet everything had directed them differently. She felt that both were on the right path, that it was right. Maybe not the easiest, and without clear rules like the rescue procedures she knew so well. But it led somewhere... upward, right? To a summit where they could be... together?
Notes:
The next chapter is definitely coming this month, I promise! I’m not sure yet if I’ll manage it next week, but I’ll do everything I can. Thanks for being here. <3
Chapter 20
Summary:
So, I unexpectedly got two days off work, which means... we're sliding into the next chapter (like an avalanche?). <3
Chapter Text
September had brought with it the true spirit of autumn.
The sun was shining, drenching everything in golden light as they drove toward Triss’s apartment. But it wasn’t the scorching heat of summer anymore. The rays were warm, comforting. Not too hot, not oppressive. Just right.
Yennefer glanced in the rearview mirror every so often, checking on Pontar stretched out across the back seat. He looked calm, his massive white body rising and falling gently with each breath. From time to time, his eyes would flutter open, curious about whatever passed by outside the window. His injured paw was still secured in its brace, but aside from that, he seemed to be recovering well. He had always been a heavy sleeper, and that trait now worked in his favor.
Triss sat beside her, turned slightly toward the window. Her chestnut hair spilled loosely over her shoulders. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It felt natural, especially after the intensity of the previous night. Still, Yennefer found herself stealing glances at her profile, at the freckles dusted across her nose, at the corners of her lips subtly curled in a private smile, as if lost in a pleasant memory.
Yennefer tightened her fingers slightly around the steering wheel. Everything felt… different. The way the morning light filtered through the windshield, the familiar interior of her beloved car, the woman sitting next to her. Everything had shifted, slipping into a new reality, one that brought with it a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
And yet, here she was driving through streets she knew by heart, streets that suddenly looked like they belonged to a different world.
“What are you thinking about?” Triss asked gently, breaking the silence.
Yennefer thought about brushing the question off with something light. But she didn’t want to, not with Triss.
“That I’ve never felt like this before,” she admitted, eyes still on the road. “Like everything’s the same… and yet somehow, it’s all better.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Triss’s smile widening.
Triss reached across the center console and rested her hand on Yennefer’s thigh. The touch was soft, but it sent a familiar warmth through her.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Triss said, though her voice trembled slightly.
When they pulled up in front of Triss’s building, Yennefer parked but left the engine running. It had become a quiet ritual — this little moment, this pause — every time she dropped Triss off. But now, it felt charged with something new.
There was a brief, uncertain beat. Neither of them seemed sure how to say goodbye. Their partings before had always been friendly, professional… or thick with the kind of tension neither dared to acknowledge.
But now?
Yennefer could have done a hundred things. She wanted to do them all.
Triss didn’t overthink it the way Yennefer always did. She just leaned in, quick and sure, breaking the moment’s tension with a soft kiss pressed to her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.”
Before Yennefer could respond, Triss had already opened the door and stepped out. She leaned back in for just a second, her eyes locking with Yennefer’s.
“I’ll text you later, okay?”
Yennefer nodded, the words catching in her throat.
“Yeah. That would be… nice.”
With one last smile, Triss closed the door and walked toward the building. Yennefer watched her go, an inexplicable urge rising in her chest — to call her back, to say something more, something that actually meant something.
But what could she say that wouldn’t come out too shallow… or too serious?
As Triss disappeared behind the front doors, Yennefer sighed. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Pontar was watching her, head tilted.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. “I’m doing my best.”
The dog let out a soft whine, as if in agreement.
“I know, I know. It’s complicated.”
She shook her head, amused by the fact that she was having a conversation with her dog.
“Although… some of this is your fault too. You’ve been giving her those puppy eyes since day one, Pontar.”
She wondered if she hadn’t been doing the same thing all along. Not with her eyes, perhaps, but in her own way. What she felt was one thing. How did it look from the outside? That was another matter entirely.
Taking a deep breath, she shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. It was time to pick up Ciri, time to return to the other part of her life, the one that now, somehow, had to find a way to merge with this new reality.
And then there was work. She really should have called Phillipa.
On the way to Ciri’s school, Yennefer’s thoughts kept drifting back to Triss. To how she had looked that morning in the gentle light, to the warmth of her body curled close during the night, to the fragility and trust they had shared. She kept circling back to the quiet realization that these feelings had been building for months. So overwhelming, so deeply real, that all she wanted was to pull Triss into her arms and never let go.
It had been her first time with a woman, and, damn, it hadn’t been nearly as awkward as she’d imagined. First times are never perfect, but with Triss, it might’ve been the closest she’d ever come to it. What disarmed her completely was that softness. The lack of urgency. The tenderness. She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Triss was stunning.
She caught herself wanting to relive it all. To feel Triss’s hands on her skin again, her breath on her neck. To experience that mix of fear and joy that had flooded her when they kissed for the first time. But more than that, she longed for the quiet moments—Triss’s laugh echoing in her kitchen, the uncertain brush of her fingers on Yennefer’s cheek, the sound of her voice when she shared something new she’d just learned, the weight of her head resting on Yennefer’s shoulder, the way she promised to hold her, care for her, stay close… She wanted to wake up and fall asleep wrapped in that warmth.
What frightened her was how quickly those home-like visions had taken root, how natural they felt already. Triss had only been part of her everyday life for a few weeks, and yet Yennefer liked the way she filled her space quietly and completely. She liked the way Triss had started filling her mind, her chest, and her whole damn heart. She never thought it was possible to feel something so intense, so soon. It all felt a little unreal, and yet, the emotions were solid. Undeniable.
The school parking lot was already filling up with parents when Yennefer pulled in. She found a spot toward the back and cut the engine, checking her watch. Still ten minutes before the bell. She considered taking Pontar for a quick walk, but decided against it. She didn’t want to risk aggravating his injury.
Instead, she stayed in the car, absently scrolling through her phone. Her thumb hovered over Triss’s name in her messages. Should she text her? But what would she even say? Thank you for last night? I already miss you?
Instead, she decided to call Phillipa. It was the perfect moment for a quick, professional check-in.
“You’re off duty until the end of the week,” came the voice on the other end without so much as a greeting, like she was continuing a thought from mid-conversation.
“Hi. Nice to hear from you too,” Yennefer replied, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
“I know you don’t call just to gossip, Yennefer…”
“Can I take a shift this Saturday?”
There was a pause on the other end.
“What about Pontar?”
“He’ll be in his crate,” she said after a brief hesitation, not wanting to go into detail.
“That’s pointless, Yennefer. Just stay home with him this week. When’s the follow-up?”
“Monday,” she answered, then paused. “But Phillipa…” her voice wavered just slightly. “I’m going to lose my mind sitting at home. You know that. One shift.”
“Oh fine. If you want,” Phillipa sighed. “Maybe it’s for the best. I’ve got a stack of paperwork you can sign.”
“Thanks,” Yennefer said quickly, too quickly.
“Just keep an eye on that dog, and be careful,” Phillipa added, in a tone that might’ve passed for concern if it hadn’t sounded so mechanical.
“I know. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Yes, I do… Anything else?”
“No, that’s all. I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Great. See you.”
Yennefer hung up, feeling the tension lingering in her chest, despite the supposed agreement. She sat there for a moment in silence, staring at the phone screen.
It took her a few seconds to realize just how strange things had become.
Phillipa. For years, she’d been a friend, then a boss — demanding, tough, ruthlessly competent. Now, she was just a voice on the line. A voice that still knew her too well.
And she’d also been something to Triss. Not that long ago… A girlfriend? A partner? Whatever they were then. The fact that she didn’t have a name for it only made things more complicated.
Complicated because now it was her…
She was the one who had spent the night with Triss. Intimate, raw, incredibly real.
And suddenly, all those relationships that used to feel like neatly separated compartments were beginning to blur. Overlap. Bleed into each other.
It was a strange feeling. Like a betrayal, though not her own. Like a secret, she couldn’t quite come to terms with. Like something slipping out of her control.
She still didn’t know what to do with all of it.
The school bell snapped her back to the present. Within seconds, the front doors burst open and kids poured out like a stampede of wild animals. Yennefer scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar flash of silver hair.
Finally, she spotted her, walking with a group of classmates, their heads leaned in together mid-conversation. The sight of her daughter always softened something in her. She felt it then too. That swell of tenderness, that strange sense of pride. She was proud of her. Always.
Ciri lifted her gaze, scanning the parking lot, and her face lit up when she saw Yennefer’s car. She said something to the others, then broke into a run toward the Volvo, her backpack bouncing with each step.
“Hi, Mom!” Ciri yanked the door open and climbed into the front seat. “Is Pontar feeling better? Can I see him?”
“Hi to you too,” Yennefer smiled, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Ciri’s ear. “And yes, he’s in the back.”
Ciri immediately turned around, her expression softening as she spotted the dog. “Hey, baby,” she cooed, reaching her hand between the seats. Pontar’s tail thumped against the upholstery. “Does his leg still hurt?”
“A little,” Yennefer said, starting the engine. “But he’s doing better than yesterday.”
On the drive home, Ciri chattered about her day — about the school play her class was working on and how excited she was about it, the drama at lunch when someone spilled Coke on someone else’s new shoes, and Cerys’s plan to host a weekend sleepover. Yennefer listened, asked the right questions at the right times, but part of her mind was still drifting. Back to Triss.
Would Ciri notice something had changed in her? Kids were observant, especially when it came to their parents. Was there something in her face that gave her away? Some shift in her behavior?
Then again, just thinking about what she’d done with Triss made everything feel… complicated. If Ciri somehow found out…
“Mom? Are you listening to me?”
Yennefer blinked, jolted out of her thoughts. “Sorry, what did you say?”
Ciri gave her a look that reminded her a little too much of Geralt. “I asked if Dad’s coming over tonight.”
“Yeah, around seven,” Yennefer confirmed. “Don’t forget to pack extra clothes for PE.”
Ciri rolled her eyes but nodded. “I know, I know.”
When they got home, Yennefer led Pontar to his bed. He turned in a slow circle before carefully settling onto the soft cushion, his injured paw resting gently on the padded surface. She knelt beside him, adjusting the brace Shani had wrapped.
“Easy, little guy,” she whispered, stroking his head. “No running, no jumping.”
Pontar licked her hand, eyes full of trust. Ciri quickly lay down beside him, picking up where she’d left off with her stories from school.
The afternoon passed in a calm, cozy rhythm. Ciri stayed close to the dog, reading aloud from her book and sneaking him treats when she thought Yennefer wasn’t looking.
Yennefer ordered groceries and dinner to be delivered, still feeling uneasy about the idea of leaving anyone home alone.
She also sent a message to the rescue team group chat, letting them know she’d be coming in for Saturday’s shift with Pontar, who’d be resting and making sure everyone stayed on task. “I remember I promised you guys pizza, everyone drop your order,” she wrote, offering thanks for their help during the search. Those on the Saturday shift started listing their favorite toppings but also began teasing each other, their way of showing support. Yennefer exchanged a few messages with them, smiling to herself.
Then she made Ciri get up and do her homework at the kitchen island. The girl kept sneaking glances at Pontar, who watched them both through half-lidded eyes.
“Will he be able to go back to work?” Ciri asked, looking up from her math notebook.
“I don’t know yet,” Yennefer answered honestly. “We have to see how he heals.”
“What if he can’t?”
It was one of those questions that had been spinning in her head—one she wasn’t quite ready to face.
“Then he’ll retire,” she said finally, returning to her coffee. “And be a regular dog. Our dog.”
Ciri tapped her pencil against her chin, thoughtful.
“I’d like that,” she decided. “But I know he loves working with you.”
Yennefer smiled, though the idea of working without him didn’t appeal to her at all.
“Let’s just focus on him getting better first, okay?”
Ciri nodded and returned to her homework. Their conversation drifted to school, friends, weekend plans—everyday topics. Safe ones. Yennefer appreciated their simplicity.
At one point, her phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Triss.
'Just talked to a friend about the cameras. I’ve got something for you, but it’s too late today. Want me to stop by tomorrow?'
Yennefer’s heart skipped just a little as she typed her reply:
'Works for me. Ciri will be at Geralt’s, so any time works.'
She stared at the message before sending it, wondering if Triss would read into it—the fact that they’d be alone. But wasn’t that the point? To see each other again without anyone else around?
Triss’s reply came quickly:
'Perfect. I’ll come by around 9?'
'9 works,' Yennefer wrote back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
She put down her phone, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. This wasn’t a date. This was Triss helping her secure the house after the Pontar incident. Triss making sure she was safe. Practical. Responsible. Simple.
Except nothing about Triss Merigold was simple anymore.
Geralt arrived at exactly seven o’clock, as always. Punctuality was one of his trademarks, along with that uncanny ability to read her thoughts and see right through her masks. That was why Yennefer felt a pang of unease as she opened the door.
He stood on the porch, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing that signature half-smile of his. Soft, yet all-knowing.
“Good evening, Yen.”
“Right on time, as usual,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Ciri’s just finishing up her packing.”
Geralt nodded, then paused, studying her face. His gaze was too sharp, too familiar. She resisted the urge to look away.
“How’s Pontar doing?” he asked, following her into the living room, where the dog was resting in his bed.
“Better,” she replied. “He’s not in much pain anymore, but he’s still careful with the leg.”
Geralt crouched beside Pontar, gently examining the injured limb. The dog licked his hand in greeting, tail giving a lazy wag.
“Good boy,” Geralt murmured. “You’re a tough one, huh?”
He stood up again, and his eyes met Yennefer’s once more.
“And you?” he asked, his voice casual on the surface. “How are you holding up?”
Yennefer busied herself with adjusting cushions that didn’t actually need adjusting.
“I’m fine. It was awful, but… it’s okay now.”
“That’s good,” Geralt said. “Triss did a hell of a job.”
“Yeah… she’s good at what she does,” she said carefully. “Without her, I’m not sure we would’ve found him… that fast.”
“It’s good you have her.” Geralt nodded slowly, but his eyes said more than his words.
“Yes, she’s a great friend.”
Before he could push further, Ciri came bounding down the stairs with her backpack slung over one shoulder and an overnight bag in hand.
“Dad! I’m ready!”
Geralt turned to her with a genuine smile, any trace of his earlier scrutiny gone.
“Got everything? Gym clothes? Books?”
“Yes, yes,” Ciri said, impatient. “Can we get pizza on the way?”
“We’ll see.” He took her bag from her, lifting it with ease. “Say goodbye to your mom.”
Ciri turned to Yennefer, giving her a quick hug around the waist.
“Bye, Mom. Take care of Pontar, okay?”
“I will,” Yennefer promised, kissing the top of her head. “Be good at your dad’s.”
“I’m always good,” Ciri grinned, a dimple showing in her cheek. She crouched next to Pontar, stroking him gently. “See you Sunday, puppy.”
As they headed toward the car, Yennefer remained in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She watched Ciri climb into the front seat, watched Geralt walk around the car and slide into the driver’s side. For a moment, their eyes met—brief, wordless. Then the door closed, the engine started, and the car slowly pulled away from the driveway.
Only then did Yennefer close the door, resting her forehead against the cool wood for a moment.
She returned to the living room, sinking onto the couch beside Pontar. Just her and the dog now, and that peculiar kind of silence.
Her phone buzzed with a new message from Triss:
‘Just checking, still good for 9 tomorrow? Sorry, I keep feeling like this is a dream.’
Yennefer smiled at the screen.
‘Yes, 9 is perfect. I’m looking forward to it. Dreams aren’t this good, Triss.’
She hit send before she could overthink it, then set the phone down. With a sigh, she leaned back, allowing herself to fully feel the weight of everything that had happened. Pontar’s disappearance and injury. The night with Triss. This strange, new reality she now inhabited.
She didn’t try to predict outcomes or plan reactions. She had a plan to install the cameras. That was, technically, the most reasonable next step. And it gave Triss a reason to come by again. Not that she was sure she needed a reason anymore, but it made things easier.
She thought of Triss’s lips. Smiled faintly. The feeling was something dangerously close to hope. Even with dark clouds looming. But if anyone knew how to face an oncoming storm, it was her.
Eventually, she got up, feeling like if she didn’t move soon, she’d fall asleep right there on the couch. Yennefer drifted through the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, checking Pontar’s water bowl, tidying up the homework materials Ciri had left out. Normal tasks, the kind that felt both soothing and strangely empty.
Only once she finished her evening routine and headed upstairs did she feel the full weight of the day. She stopped at the top of the stairs, looking toward her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, the bed neatly made—just as she had left it the last time she slept there, before everything changed.
Before Triss.
She walked straight to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she returned downstairs. Pontar lifted his head when she entered the living room, his tail giving a soft thump against the bed.
“Just checking on you,” she said quietly.
But instead of heading back up, she turned toward the study. The door was open, the pull-out couch still made from the night before. Their night. She hesitated only a moment before stepping inside.
The sheets still carried a faint trace of Triss. That raspberry scent that had become so familiar. Yennefer sat at the edge of the bed, fingers trailing across the blanket. Then, making a decision that felt both foolish and necessary, she lay down and pulled the covers over herself.
From the living room came the sound of Pontar shifting in his bed, then a soft sigh.
Yennefer closed her eyes, enveloped in the lingering traces of Triss's presence, and drifted off to sleep.
Yennefer woke up before six, it was far too early. Sleep wouldn’t return, but she stayed under the light sheets for a few more minutes, letting her mind drift through the events of the past few days.
Eventually, she got up and used the early hours to clean an already spotless house, take a slow walk around the yard with Pontar and change outfits three times before settling on jeans and a simple white blouse with loose, tied sleeves.
Standing in front of the mirror, she debated what to do with her hair. She usually wore it up or tied back in a sleek ponytail—practical and out of the way. But today, it lay freely over her blouse. She straightened out the curls, and it changed the way she looked.
Long soft waves now framed her shoulders. The change made her feel strangely exposed. As if she was quietly admitting to something in her intentions.
A few minutes after nine, she heard the sound of tires rolling up her driveway. Triss pulled into the yard through the gate Yennefer had opened earlier. Pontar, dozing in a patch of sunlight, lifted his head but didn’t get up. His usual enthusiastic greeting was dulled by the injury, but his tail thumped the floor as Yennefer walked past.
She paused at the front door, taking a deep breath to calm herself. This was ridiculous. It was just Triss. Triss, who she’d known for months. Triss, who had seen her at her most vulnerable—both professionally, and now, personally.
Triss, who had held her all night like she was something precious.
She opened the door and saw her standing on the porch, a pink gym bag slung over her shoulder and a cardboard tray with two coffees in her hands. She was wearing high-waisted jeans, a white blouse, and a beige blazer. Her auburn hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She looked as elegant as ever, but there was something thoughtful about her outfit. Yennefer felt a little better, knowing she probably wasn’t the only one who had stood in front of her closet this morning not knowing what to wear.
“Hey,” said Triss with a soft smile, lifting the tray slightly. “I brought reinforcements.”
“My hero,” Yennefer replied, stepping back to let her in, though she noticed right away that Triss wasn’t quite herself. There was a tension in her posture, and her eyes gave it away. “Come in.”
As Triss stepped inside, her gaze lingered briefly on Yennefer’s hair.
“You look beautiful,” she said quietly.
“Thanks. You too.” The reply came out a bit automatically, but she meant it.
Triss handed her one of the coffee cups. Their fingers brushed, and Yennefer felt that now-familiar flutter in her stomach. She took a sip to hide her reaction, discovering that the coffee was exactly how she liked it.
“How’s our patient?” Triss asked, glancing toward the living room where Pontar was watching them curiously.
“Better today,” Yennefer replied, leading the way. “He ate breakfast and even walked around the house a little.”
Triss set down her bag and coffee, then knelt beside Pontar. He immediately stretched his neck to lick her hand, his tail wagging with more energy.
“He’s happy to see you,” Yennefer noted, a smile tugging at her lips.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Triss replied, gently scratching behind his ears. She looked up at Yennefer, her expression softening. “How are you feeling? Really?”
It was a simple question, but it carried weight after everything that had happened. Yennefer sank onto the couch, considering her answer.
“I’m… okay,” she said finally. “Better than I expected, actually. And you?”
Triss smiled faintly, but Yennefer could tell it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m good too.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their coffee. It was a friendly quiet, like they were giving each other space to adjust to this new reality.
“So,” Triss said at last, setting her cup down, “about those cameras.”
“What did your friend recommend?” Yennefer asked, grateful for the shift to something practical.
Triss reached into her bag and unzipped it, pulling out two boxes. She explained the features quickly, almost nervously. Her fingers moved too fast, as if they didn’t know where to rest.
“He gave me two options. This one’s a small indoor camera,” she said, holding up the smaller box. “It’s wireless, connects to Wi-Fi, and you can view the feed on your phone. He said the image quality’s actually really good.”
She set it aside and pulled out the second item. Much larger.
“And this is a dummy. He didn’t have a proper outdoor model in stock. But honestly, these usually work too. You just have to mount it where it’s clearly visible. I’m thinking the corner of the building, so you can see it from the front and the back, since that’s where…” She trailed off, not wanting to directly mention Pontar’s disappearance.
Yennefer watched her carefully. She didn’t resemble the relaxed, confident woman Yennefer had spent that night with.
“That makes sense,” Yennefer said. “And where should we put the indoor one?”
“I was thinking the kitchen window,” Triss suggested, still avoiding direct eye contact. “It has a view of most of the yard and the gate. Plus there’s an outlet nearby.”
“Sounds perfect,” Yennefer nodded, quietly impressed by Triss’s attention to detail.
They spent the next hour installing the cameras and downloading the app. The exterior one was mounted rather crudely, but Yennefer made a mental note to fix it later—or ask Geralt for help. There was something oddly domestic about working on this with Triss, and she caught herself enjoying the simplicity of collaborating on a shared task.
Once the outdoor camera was in place, they returned inside, and Triss showed Yennefer how to access the feed on her phone. The app was fairly intuitive, with a clear image from the small kitchen camera.
“This is incredible,” Yennefer said, watching the live feed and zooming in and out with a swipe of her finger.
“It’s all he had, the electronics store didn’t have any proper outdoor ones,” Triss explained as she packed up the leftover cables. “But he said he’ll send me a list of models worth checking out.”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?” Yennefer asked, turning to reach for her bag.
“You don’t owe me anything, Yennefer.”
“No, come on… can we just act normal?” It came out sharper than she’d intended, and Triss seemed to flinch slightly at the phrasing.
“I just wanted you to feel safe. To know I’m not leaving you alone in this.”
“Triss, I know that and I appreciate it. But I don’t want you to buy things for my house…”
Triss gave a small smile, that familiar spark in her eyes—a look Yennefer had grown to love.
“If you really need to pay me back… coffee will do.”
“Lifetime supply of coffee, with milk and sugar,” Yennefer joked.
Triss smiled, but it was an uncertain one. She stayed quiet for a moment, collecting the cable bags and instruction sheets. Her hands moved a little too quickly, like she was working through something. Yennefer adjusted the camera on the window, giving her space, though Triss’s behavior was starting to concern her.
Luckily, Triss began to speak on her own.
“Yennefer…” she started, then stopped. She reached for her coffee cup, avoiding her eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something that’s been bothering me since yesterday.”
Yennefer felt her chest tighten. She braced herself internally.
“Okay,” she said calmly. “If you regret what we shared… just be honest with me.”
Triss looked at her in surprise.
“What? No… it’s not about… us.”
Yennefer blinked, caught off guard.
“It’s not?”
“No.” Triss shook her head, then pulled out her phone, tapping quickly before handing it to Yennefer. “This showed up yesterday on a local news portal. ‘Missing Rescue Dog: Can We Trust Their Handlers?’”
Yennefer took the phone and scrolled through the article, disbelief rising. It was short but pointed, using Pontar’s disappearance and public posts to question the competence of mountain rescue personnel. The comment section was worse—strangers debating whether someone who “can’t keep track of her dog” should be trusted with human lives in emergencies.
“This is absurd,” she muttered, handing the phone back. “Who writes crap like this?”
“Some freelancer. He runs an independent city blog,” Triss said, her expression filled with sympathy. “It’s clickbait, made to stir people up.”
“Well, it worked,” Yennefer said bitterly. “Now random people are going to question my skills based on something they know nothing about.”
“I could write a response,” Triss offered, her professional instincts clearly kicking in. “Tell the real story. Talk about your record, the actual circumstances…”
“It doesn't matter,” Yennefer said finally. “Pontar is safe and healing. Someone's trying to damage me… nothing new.”
“We can't just let it slide.” Triss moved closer. “We could write another article. Show the truth that someone let your dog out deliberately. That you're the victim, not negligent.”
Yennefer looked at her, stunned.
“Triss, no. I’m not getting dragged into some media drama.”
“But people believe what they read!”
“And next week they’ll find someone else to tear apart.” Yennefer shrugged. “If I engage, I only make it worse. I’ll become ‘that rescuer who had to explain herself.’ No, thanks.”
Triss looked disappointed.
“So you’re giving up?”
“Triss…” Yennefer sighed, trying to stay calm. “I’m not getting involved. It’s not my battle.”
“It is your battle. They’re talking about you and…”
“And what?” Yennefer cut in, harsher than she meant to. “It’s ruining your reputation?”
She didn’t mean it that way. Not that cold, not that accusing. But something cracked inside her, the same part that always told her it was safer to push people away before they could leave on their own.
Triss recoiled slightly, like she’d been slapped.
“No Yen. I’m… I’m not against you. Maybe this isn’t the time. Not like this.”
Yennefer took a deep breath, forcing her voice to stay steady. Triss was right—this wasn’t how they should have their first argument. Not today, not when they were just starting to figure things out.
“You’re right. Let’s leave it for now.” She paused. “The article too, okay?”
Triss looked slightly calmer, though the concern didn’t leave her face.
“I just worry about you. About your work, your reputation.”
“I know,” Yennefer softened. “And I appreciate it. But this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with criticism. It won’t be the last either.”
“I suppose,” Triss relented, not fully convinced. “But if it gets worse…”
“Then we’ll take care of it,” Yennefer promised.
Triss nodded, still holding some doubt.
“I know it’s not your way…” she said quietly. “But as a journalist, I see what words can do. How they can hurt, destroy or empower. Sometimes silence lets lies grow.”
Yennefer didn’t respond right away. She understood what Triss meant. Maybe she was right, words had power. But life had taught her that it was often quiet consistency, not loud explanations, that brought results. That was how she wanted to handle it. With dignity. On her terms.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Yennefer asked.
Triss hesitated.
“I probably should go. I’ve got a meeting.”
Disappointment flickered through Yennefer, though she tried not to show it.
“Of course. Another time.”
Triss must’ve sensed something in her tone because she reached out and took Yennefer’s hand.
“Definitely another time,” she said softly. “Soon.”
The touch sent warmth rushing through Yennefer’s body. She gave Triss’s hand a light squeeze, gently pulling her a little closer.
“Sunday? When I get back from my shift?”
Triss’s face showed a hint of surprise.
“You’re going back to work?”
“Just weekend. I’m going stir-crazy at home, and Pontar will be in the crate, so nothing changes.”
Triss hesitated, biting her lip as if she wanted to say something but changed her mind at the last second.
“Okay, if you think it’s a good idea, then it is…”
“You don’t think it is?”
Triss sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. There was something gentle but focused in her expression.
“I don’t know… what’s one duty going to change? Especially since I know what night shifts are like…”
“I know. But I just need to feel like a rescuer again, even for a few hours.”
“I get it. But please be careful… If Shani says Pontar’s recovery could be at risk, you’ll blame yourself. You know you will.”
“I know, Triss. I’ve thought about it, but still…”
Triss nodded, still holding her hand.
“You’re right. If you’ve decided to go back, I’m sure you’ve thought it through. You always do, once you decide…”
She stopped suddenly, like she was about to say more, but held back. For a brief moment, she looked past Yennefer’s shoulder and then her face relaxed visibly.
“You okay?” Yennefer asked gently.
Triss looked back at her, calm now.
“Yes. I just… realized something.” She smiled slightly, that warm spark returning to her eyes. “And besides… yeah, I want this. I mean breakfast on Sunday, and everything…”
She looked at her again. This time with no hesitation, tenderness clear in her blue eyes. She smiled and slowly leaned in to kiss her.
Yennefer pulled her a little closer, holding the kiss just a moment longer than necessary.
A moment later, Yennefer watched as Triss gathered her things into her bag. Focused, smiling again. There was something soothing about it. Their argument had been quickly defused, and the tension between them was slowly giving way to a quiet, still-fragile harmony. But as she looked at her now, an unexpected thought crossed her mind.
Did we move too fast that night?
The question didn’t come from regret. Quite the opposite. The memory of that night still filled her with warmth and a shiver of pleasure. She had never before felt such an intense desire for closeness, such a deep need to touch someone, to explore their body with that kind of curiosity, care, and passion. Not for a second did she regret making love to her. It had been real, necessary. In that moment, every part of her had screamed that it was the only way to release the tension that had been building between them for months.
But now, looking at it from the perspective of two days later, once more immersed in the everyday, she couldn’t shake a quiet voice of doubt. Maybe they had exposed themselves a little too quickly. Maybe they could have waited, given themselves more time. More space.
She quickly dismissed the thought, shaking her head slightly.
It happened, it’s done.
She wasn’t going to regret it or dissect it endlessly. They had each other. Their relationship hadn’t broken because of that night. If anything, she now knew everything between them was intact. That Triss still looked at her the same way, with that same warmth in her eyes.
And now, knowing that, having quieted that first, urgent need for physical closeness, Yennefer realized what she truly needed from Triss. Not another night. Not more passion—though, of course, she longed for that too, somewhere deep in her soul—but rather something far more ordinary and intimate. She needed her smile. The warmth of her hand. The sound of her voice, soft and soothing. She needed emotional closeness. The comforting certainty that Triss was there, and that what was growing between them was real.
There would be time for physicality. For more nights filled with passion. But right now, Yennefer had too much on her mind, too many problems demanding her focus.
Saturday, September 21, 7:52 p.m.
Central Station of the Mountain and Cave Rescue Service in Montecalvo
She drove, glancing nervously at the clock. She would be there right on time, even though she had left early, remembering to pick up pizzas for the team, the whole process had taken longer than expected. She tried not to think about it too much as she drove the familiar road toward the station.
Most of the week, Yennefer had spent almost entirely with Pontar. She was reading everything she could find about dog rehabilitation after injuries, braces, techniques for relieving pressure on the paw, stages of wound healing. It was the only thing she could do. Be prepared.
She was afraid of Monday’s follow-up appointment, even though everything suggested it would be fine. The cut was healing faster than expected. Pontar was starting to put his paw down more often—lightly, cautiously, but still. The progress was visible. And that gave her strength.
She missed Triss. More than she had expected. She thought about her when she fell asleep, when she waited for Pontar to finish eating. Today, she was happy to be heading into the station, and not just because of the shift. She was excited. Nervous. She was planning to meet Triss for breakfast afterward, and somehow, that breakfast had started to feel… strangely important.
In the trunk, next to her first aid kit, she had a large sports bag packed with a change of clothes. Not sweats. This time, something nicer.
She arrived for the night shift, parking her Volvo in her usual spot. Pontar sat quietly in the back seat, unusually calm despite the smell of several pizza boxes on the front seat. When she opened the door for him, he hesitated before jumping down, carefully surveying his surroundings.
“It’s okay, little guy,” she murmured, clipping his leash onto his collar. “Just a normal shift.”
But it didn’t feel normal. Not with Pontar still favoring his injured leg. Not with the lingering uncertainty about what had happened to him. Not with the way he pressed close to her leg as they walked toward the building. So different from his usual confident trot. It was hard carrying the pizza boxes while the dog clung to her like a year-old child who hadn’t quite learned to walk on his own yet.
The base was quieter at night, but right now, with the teams swapping shifts, the place felt way too crowded. Eskel was the first to greet her, standing in the hallway. He immediately stepped forward to help with the boxes.
“Good evening,” he nodded, taking the food from her hands. “Good to see you both.”
“Thanks,” she said, glancing down at Pontar.
The dog had stopped at the station entrance, resisting, refusing to go any further. Yennefer frowned, crouching beside him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, stroking his head. “You know this place.”
Pontar whimpered, pressing himself closer against her. His behavior worried her, this place had always been his second home.
“He’s still processing what happened,” came Dorien’s voice from behind her. She turned to see the young rescuer watching them with quiet concern. “Trauma changes behavior patterns. Makes safe places feel strange.”
“Will he be okay?” Yennefer asked, standing up.
Dorien walked over slowly, crouching at Pontar’s level but not trying to touch him right away.
“In time,” he said. “He needs to rebuild those associations. He has to know he’s safe here again.”
Pontar’s tail gave a hesitant wag at the sight of Dorien’s familiar presence, but he still stayed glued to Yennefer’s side.
“Maybe just keep him with you tonight,” Dorien suggested. “Let him reacclimate at his pace. Honestly, it’s probably good you came tonight.”
“Thanks.”
Yennefer nodded, grateful for the advice. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if there was a callout. Most likely there wouldn’t be—she clung to that thought. It was going to be a quiet night. Slowly, she made her way toward the locker room, still with Pontar pressed close to her side.
She quickly slipped back into her usual rhythm, equipment check, paperwork with Phillipa. But unlike her normal efficiency, Yennefer was distracted, constantly aware of where Pontar was. He followed her everywhere, never more than a step behind, watching her every move with intense focus. His tucked tail and constantly twitching ears kept her tense.
Hours passed slowly. There were no emergency calls, no tourists in need of rescue. When she joined the others in the common room, Chireadan and Iorveth were already deep in one of their usual video game battles, their friendly bickering filling the space.
Their normalcy was comforting—no awkward questions, no excessive sympathy. Just the same dynamic as always, letting her slip back into her role without fanfare.
Pontar curled up at her feet when she sat in one of the armchairs, reluctant to approach anyone else despite the familiar scents. When Coën reached out to pet him during a break from scrolling his phone, the dog accepted the touch but immediately looked up at Yennefer, as if seeking permission.
She slid lower and sat on the floor, leaning back against the chair and stretching her legs out in front of her.
Pontar settled beside her immediately, resting his heavy head on her thigh. He still flinched at loud noises or sudden movements, his eyes flicking open every few moments. She stroked his fur absentmindedly, watching the game without really seeing it, her thoughts circling back to Triss, their last conversation, and the quiet promise of breakfast tomorrow.
“Back to regular shifts?” Eskel asked during a break in the game.
Yennefer considered the question.
“Probably. We have the vet on Monday. I’ll know more then.”
“Tell them about the anxiety,” Dorien added. “Maybe they can give him something to help calm him. Might make it easier on him.”
“Mhm,” she murmured, still petting the dog.
The conversation drifted to other topics, upcoming drills, new gear, weekend plans. Yennefer chimed in now and then, but mostly listened, comforted by the familiar rhythms of her team’s chatter.
Gradually, the weight on her leg grew heavier as Pontar fell asleep. His breathing deepened, broken now and then by those little twitchy movements dogs make when they dream. For the first time since his return, he seemed truly relaxed. Yennefer didn’t have the heart to move him, even when her leg started going numb. Instead, she leaned her head back against the seat of the chair and closed her eyes—not to sleep, but just to rest, wrapped in the quiet safety of her team’s presence.
She used to love the silence of the station at night. Now, silence reminded her of everything that had happened and of everything that might still.
She looked down at Pontar. He lay peacefully, his breath even, but his ears twitched occasionally. The presence of the other rescuers was soothing for her and for him. It was in moments like this that thoughts crept in. Thoughts she had been avoiding these past few days.
She reached for her phone. The camera feed was clear even at this hour, the driveway was perfectly visible, thanks to the streetlamp she usually hated for being too bright. Now, she was grateful it worked. She kept stroking the dog absentmindedly, watching Eskel and Chireadan play, but her mind was elsewhere.
Who could have taken Pontar? It wouldn’t have been easy. He wasn’t just any dog. Someone had to know him. Know how to approach him, how to take him, how to disappear without a trace.
Every logical conclusion sent a chill down her spine. That was wrong.
The night passed without incident.
Dawn crept in gently, spilling soft light through the tall windows of the base. Outside, the air was crisp and still, and for a brief moment Yennefer let herself breathe it in as Pontar stepped carefully beside her, paws quiet against the gravel. She retrieved her bag from the trunk, moving slowly — her back aching from the hours spent curled up on the floor, sleep having stolen only a few scattered moments.
She returned to the station with her dog. When the next shift began arriving, she headed to the bathroom. She was fairly certain Pontar had never been here before. Or maybe he was… As a pup, years ago, when everything was still new, and the base was more adventure than responsibility.
She took her time. Warm water on her face erased some of the night’s weight. In the changing room, she swapped out her uniform for a pair of fitted black jeans and a white blouse—the neckline modest, but just enough to feel like she’d chosen it with someone in mind.
Even so, she pulled a regular hoodie over it. She didn’t want anyone making any comments. She said her goodbyes quickly and slipped out to the car. Pontar climbed into the back seat, looking at her with something like relief in his eyes.
As she drove toward Triss’s apartment, she realized she was genuinely looking forward to the warmth of her welcome. To the way her place always made her feel so perfectly at ease.
She sent a text as she parked in the usual spot.
‘Just got here. Heading up.’
The reply came instantly:
‘Door’s open. Coffee’s on.’
Yennefer smiled and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She took off her hoodie, shaking her head at herself with mild embarrassment. She really was hiding like a teenager. She helped Pontar out of the car, and together they walked toward the entrance, both carrying the weight of a sleepless night, but also the same quiet need for comfort.
As the elevator ascended, Yennefer realized with quiet surprise how right it all felt. This new direction. All of it, uncertain and thrilling at once. Their relationship was still fresh, full of wonder and hesitation, but something deep within her knew they were on the right path.
The elevator doors opened. At the end of the hallway, Pontar picked up speed, recognizing where he was. It was the first real sign of excitement he had shown in hours.
Yennefer followed him, letting herself feel that same pull. Any questions or uncertainties could wait. Pontar reached the door first, pushing his nose between the frame and the door. Yennefer knocked. A familiar voice called out from inside.
“Come in!”
She turned the handle and let the dog go in first.
She kicked off her shoes and made her way through the hall. Triss stood at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into two mugs. She wore gray leggings and an oversized sweater that had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the familiar line of her scarred collarbone. Yennefer felt a wave of emotion. She knew what that meant. For both of them.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, with a few strands falling across her cheeks. When she saw them, her face lit up with a smile.
“Hey, you two,” she called out.
Pontar ran to her, tail wagging. The hesitation from the station had vanished as if it had never been there.
“Did you miss me?” Triss laughed, crouching to greet him.
“Apparently, he’s not the only one,” Yennefer said, watching them fondly. “I like seeing you like this.”
Triss glanced up at her, a little caught off guard, then smiled wider as she stood. “What, in my Sunday morning mess?”
“If this is your messy Sunday morning look… it suits you,” Yennefer stepped closer and paused only for a second before kissing her gently. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Triss replied, her cheeks flushing with color. She glanced toward the counter, a little shy. “I got up early and baked blueberry rolls. And made coffee. You must be exhausted after your shift.”
“You are the sweetest thing in the world,” Yennefer sighed.
“Thing?” Triss raised an eyebrow and wrapped her arms loosely around Yennefer’s waist. It was easy, natural. Their bodies met with a soft, careful press.
“I meant person. Obviously,” Yennefer said, smirking. “I should really work on my romantic phrasing.”
“You don’t have to. I know you. I’m not expecting you to suddenly become overly sweet and poetic.”
“Good. Because that’s not happening. But sometimes… I might say something nice. Just because.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” Triss said with a small smile.
“You don’t want me to?”
“I do. If it’s true.”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Yennefer asked quietly, her eyes locked on hers.
“No. Not that I can remember.”
“Exactly,” she said softly.
Her gaze dropped to the exposed collarbone, then lifted again. She caught Triss’s unsure expression and held it. She knew Triss usually hid those scars, tucked them away under layers of fabric like old, silent wounds.
Today she hadn’t. Today she let them be seen.
“I see you,” she whispered. “And I… I appreciate it. More than I know how to say.”
Triss simply nodded. Yennefer leaned in again. This time her hand brushed gently against Triss’s cheek before she kissed her once more.
For a moment, they stood in silence, warmed by a closeness that didn’t need to be named. Then Triss tilted her head toward the kitchen.
“Come. Before the rolls get cold.”
They sat down at the table. The scent of coffee and blueberries settled between them. Yennefer reached for her mug, letting the warmth soak into her palms. She watched Triss, watched the soft rhythm of her hands. The way she reached for the rolls, how she gently tore one open. The way she dipped the fluffy dough in her coffee. How she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear without thinking.
Everything felt intentional. Even though it was casual and homey and relaxed, none of it was an accident.
She had gotten up early and thought about her. She had prepared this space, piece by piece. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to. Because she cared.
Pontar wandered to the rug near the balcony door and curled up there with a sigh. He fell asleep almost immediately, deep and peaceful. As if he knew, completely and without question, that he was safe here.
They talked a little about nothing in particular. The weather. The rolls. Their plans for the day. But Yennefer kept glancing at the dog. And she saw it clearly. He was himself again. Relaxed. Stretched out. His body loose, his gaze soft. Just as she remembered.
And suddenly, she understood.
It wasn’t just about a place. It was about that place. The station.
That’s where he changed. Where he became tense. Watchful. Hesitant. But here? Here, he felt safe.
Why?
The base had been his home longer. He knew it better. The thoughts that had haunted her through the night returned. How was she supposed to say this to Triss?
She didn’t have to. But she wanted to. She needed to share it with someone. To hear another voice. To maybe feel just a little less afraid.
“How was your night?” Triss asked eventually, tearing a piece from her roll. “Busy?”
“Quiet.” Yennefer shook her head, bringing her attention back to Triss. “No calls at all. The guys played video games, and I mostly just watched Pontar sleep.”
“That’s good though, right? That he slept?”
“Yes. But only because he wouldn’t leave my side.” Her smile faded. “He’s… different. Ever since we returned to the base.”
“What do you mean?” Triss asked, glancing at the dog. “He seems fine here.”
“Here, yes. And that’s exactly what worries me a little.”
“What are you thinking?”
Yennefer described Pontar’s behavior at the station. The fear, the alertness, the way he refused to be in places that had always been safe for him. Triss listened without interrupting, her hand quietly finding Yennefer’s on the table.
“I need to tell you something, Triss. But it stays between us, okay?”
“Yen, everything we say stays between us. I might have a long tongue, but I know the weight of words. I don't spread around what’s important, whether it’s mine or someone else’s.”
“I know. But… this is a delicate thing. Just thinking about it is terrifying, and…”
“What is it?”
“I thought about it last night. About who could have let him out. Seriously, calmly.”
“And? Did you figure anything out?”
“I did.” Yennefer closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself before opening them again. “But it’s not good. Not good at all.”
She took a breath.
“First of all, he’s a rescue dog. He’s not supposed to run off. He’s trained to obey only me. No one else.”
“I remember. At first, I couldn’t even pet him without your permission.”
“Yeah, I was showing off a little back then.”
“Really? Even then?” Triss grinned.
“Anyway.” Yennefer shook her head but couldn't help the small lift at the corner of her mouth. “He listens to me. And Ciri, a little. And Geralt… just in case I don’t come back from a mission and someone needs to take care of him.”
“Don’t say that, Yen. Please.”
“Triss, you have to keep that possibility in mind and I have to be responsible. It's part of the job.”
She caught the fear flashing in Triss’s eyes and quickly returned to the topic of the dog.
“Anyway, there’s only a tiny group of people he obeys. And I suspect when I’m not around, he’s not as disciplined.”
“Wait. You think it was Geralt?”
“No.” Yennefer shook her head. “But think about it. Who else would Pontar listen to if I wasn’t there, and neither were they?”
“I don’t know… Eskel? Crach?”
“Exactly.”
“You really think…? But they searched with us, Yen. They were there.”
“I don’t mean them directly,” she said, making a vague gesture with her free hand. “I mean in general.”
Sudden understanding crossed Triss’s face.
“Another rescuer. If something happened to you, he’d need to listen to someone else. Someone in uniform.”
“Exactly. A familiar uniform. A favorite toy. Everything's at the base, and now he’s a different dog there,” Yennefer said, looking at Pontar, who was now lying relaxed and peaceful by the balcony door. “At the station, he’s tense. Watchful. Afraid to be alone.”
“You think it’s not from the trauma? From what happened?” Triss leaned in a little closer.
Yennefer took a deep breath, putting into words the thought that had haunted her all night.
“I think he recognizes the scent. He remembers it. And he’s afraid.”
“That’s… a heavy thing to think about.”
“That’s why I’m telling you. I need someone who’ll listen. Someone who won’t judge.”
Triss’s fingers tightened slightly around hers.
“It makes sense. But Yen, if that’s true… if it could be true…”
“I know, Triss. You think I don't feel sick just thinking about it?”
“But it could still have been someone who wanted him for the money, right?”
“Yes, maybe it was someone after money. But how would a total stranger even manage that? How, Triss? I need a logical explanation.”
“They have their ways. They’re not just random people. And his injuries do fit the scenario where he fought back and escaped. Why would a rescuer take him… and then help search for him?”
“Maybe it wasn’t someone from our shift. Maybe it was someone from another team. Someone who wasn’t part of the search.
God, Triss, I don’t know. It’s just… a horrible thought.”
“I know…”
“And honestly, I’d prefer it if it turned out someone tried to steal him for ransom. Really. But when I think about the scratched car, the slashed tires, the packages… it’s all happening here.”
Triss looked at her carefully, her voice softer now.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
Yennefer exhaled slowly.
“I’ll watch. Closely. Everyone.”
“Maybe talk to Philippa,” Triss said gently. “At least let her know what you’re thinking.”
Yennefer was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded, almost to herself.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Yennefer… what can I do for you? Really?”
“Nothing,” she said with a faint smile. “Be here with me, if it’s not too much to ask. I need you, Triss. That doesn’t change.”
Chapter 21
Notes:
Things are moving pretty fast now, enjoy reading! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She was doing everything she could to act normal. At least for Ciri, and at least for now. She dropped her off at school on Monday morning, outwardly calm, but inside she was trembling with stress. She’d woken up with stomach cramps, and she was almost certain it was anxiety.
Her suspicion that one of the rescuers might have been involved still wouldn't leave her alone. Talking with Triss had helped ease that specific fear, making it seem more likely that it was a failed kidnapping attempt. But the doubts kept returning.
A failed attempt.
If someone had taken the dog into the mountains… why there? Wouldn't they have tried to get him as far away as possible? To Tretogor or Novigrad? Unless they were heading somewhere even further, like Kaedwen or Aedirn… That would have made more sense. She tried to shift her thinking towards a kidnapping for profit, but she couldn't shake the image of the dog's strange behavior back at the unit. Yet, she still couldn't fathom what motive a rescuer could possibly have had for wanting to kidnap the dog. It was the kind of thing that would inevitably come to light eventually, so why take such a risk?
She had no clear lead. Just a dozen confusing threads, none solid enough to follow, but all sharp enough to sow doubt.
The only solid thing in the chaos was Triss. And even then, Yennefer kept wondering if she hadn’t dragged her into a complete mess. Being with her wasn’t just about romance, it came with the whole package. Ciri. Pontar. Now all these shadows and secrets. Triss deserved love, peace, happiness. How was she supposed to give her that when she could barely hold herself together?
Still, she had hope. She believed that if it ever became too much, Triss would say so. The choice wasn’t hers alone. It was Triss’s too—whether she wanted to walk through this storm beside her or not.
The truth was, she couldn’t imagine facing it all alone right now. Well... she could, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d end up taking it out on Ciri. Not on purpose. But it would happen. And the talks with Triss… they made everything feel lighter. She needed them so badly, she was starting to wonder if you could become addicted to another person.
She pulled into the vet clinic parking lot with Pontar in the back seat. Although her appointment wasn't for another thirty minutes, waiting in the car seemed pointless. Better to head inside and sit with him in the waiting room. She'd wanted to visit Triss, if only for a few minutes—even though they'd seen each other yesterday. But Triss was in the field working on a story. They'd been texting whenever they could, and the conversation flowed naturally. Yennefer loved that ease between them. She promised to message after the appointment, and Triss said she'd call in the afternoon. Yennefer couldn't wait to hear her voice.
She used to turn to music when her thoughts got too loud. Now, Triss’s voice worked better than any playlist.
There were three people in the waiting room, along with two cats and a small mutt. Everyone looked up when they came in—first at her, then at the dog. She offered a quick hello and sat in the nearest free seat by the door. Pontar settled beside her, leaning against her legs. He wasn’t scared, but she could tell he was uneasy. He rested his head on her thigh and watched the room without moving much, only his ears twitching now and then. She stroked him gently behind the ears and along his neck. It calmed them both. His warm fur was almost as soothing as Triss’s voice.
When their turn came, she took a breath, grabbed the leash, and walked slowly with Pontar into the exam room. He limped carefully, placing weight on the leg only when he had to, just like he always did after resting.
“Good morning,” said Shani, who was alone in the room this time. “How was the week? Any issues?”
“Everything’s okay,” Yennefer replied, standing beside Pontar near the chair. “He’s been putting weight on the leg more often.”
“That’s a good sign.” Shani nodded and stepped out from behind the computer. “Alright, big guy, let’s see how you’re doing.”
The exam took longer than Yennefer expected. Shani was thorough—checking his injured leg, his general condition, even glancing at the healing wounds. She spoke to him the whole time, soothing and smiling as she worked.
“How does it look?” Yennefer finally asked, unable to bear the silence anymore.
Shani peeled off her gloves and gave her a look Yennefer had come to dread—the professional kind.
“Honestly, he’s doing better than I expected,” she began, and Yennefer immediately sensed the but coming. “I was really concerned about those ligaments, but if he’s placing the leg down on his own, and it’s not painful, that’s a great sign. However…”
“However?” Yennefer repeated, her stomach knotting so tightly it almost hurt.
“It’s still a serious injury. You know that,” Shani said with a quiet sigh. “The ligaments need more time. I’ll need him to stay in the brace until Friday. Come back then, and if everything looks good, you’ll only use it for longer walks. We can start rehabilitation after that.”
“Until Friday?” Yennefer tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“I know you were hoping for faster progress,” Shani replied, gently stroking Pontar behind the ears. “But it’s better to give him more time now than risk complications later. Especially if he’s meant to return to duty.”
Yennefer nodded, fingers buried in Pontar’s fur.
“And what are the chances of that?” she asked quietly. “Of going back to service?”
Shani hesitated, and that brief pause was enough of an answer for Yennefer.
“It’s too early to tell. I’ll know more once you start the rehab,” the vet finally said. “We’ll see how he responds. But I have to be honest, it might take much longer than you expect. And even with all your efforts, he might not be fit to return to work. He’ll recover, yes, but for a rescue dog in the mountains, he needs to be in top shape. You know that better than anyone, Yennefer.”
A heavy weight settled on her chest. She had braced herself for the possibility, but hearing it out loud still hurt.
“I know,” she murmured because really, what else could she say?
When they left the clinic, Yennefer helped Pontar into the car and slid behind the wheel. She didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, she pulled out her phone and typed a brief message to Triss.
'Still in the brace until Friday. Otherwise, okay. Let me know when you’re free?'
Only then did she turn the key and drive home. But the whole ride back, Shani’s words replayed in her mind. What if Pontar really didn’t make a full recovery? What would that mean for her job, for his future, for their life together? What would she do with him on shift days? Leaving him alone for twelve hours at home wasn’t an option, and letting him stay outside was completely off the table too.
Back at home, she made a quick lunch, chicken with rice and vegetables. Pontar lay quietly by the table, watching her every move. It wasn’t until she finished eating and checked the time that she realized she’d soon need to leave to pick up Ciri.
And then the thought hit her. She’d have to leave Pontar alone.
Maybe she didn’t have to, but she knew the day would come eventually. And getting him in and out of the car when it wasn’t necessary… that would only put more strain on his healing leg.
She hadn’t been apart from him for more than a few minutes since he’d returned.
The last time she’d left him alone, he’d disappeared.
A wave of panic surged through her, sharp and fast—but then it was followed by frustration. She couldn’t live in constant fear. This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy.
She looked at Pontar, who was now watching her with half-lidded eyes.
“I have to go pick up Ciri,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him. “You’ll be okay for an hour, right?”
He gave a small wag of his tail, and she took it as a yes.
She went through the house, checking everything. She closed all the windows and made sure the patio doors were locked as well. Then she turned on the camera app and adjusted the camera's view so she could see both the yards and rotate to the living room, where Pontar would most likely be resting. She had everything in view. This indoor camera was a great idea.
Once it was all set, she knelt beside him.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” she said, brushing her hand over his head. “Be good. Don’t get into trouble. Rest.”
Pontar looked at her with those wise eyes of his, as if he understood every word. Then he yawned. Hopefully, he’d sleep.
The drive to Ciri’s school took longer than usual. Endless red lights and afternoon traffic stretched the trip out like a bad joke. The entire time, Yennefer kept glancing at her phone, checking the camera feed again and again. Just to make sure Pontar was still there. Still safe.
When she finally pulled up to the school, Ciri was already waiting.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Yennefer said as her daughter climbed into the car. “Were you waiting long?”
“No,” Ciri dropped her backpack at her feet and sat down beside her. Then she glanced into the back seat. “Where’s Pontar? You left him alone?”
Yennefer could hear the unease in her voice.
“Yeah. He’s home,” she said, trying to sound steady. “He’s safe. We have cameras.”
Ciri didn’t respond, but out of the corner of her eye, Yennefer noticed her daughter gripping the seatbelt tighter in her hands.
The drive home felt endless. Every red light was a punishment. She was sure she hit each one. Every bit of traffic stirred a new wave of anxiety. The camera feed still showed everything was fine, but Yennefer couldn’t shake the feeling that something could go wrong at any moment. And she’d be far away. Then what? What would she even do if someone suddenly appeared on the screen and…?
No. Not now.
When they finally pulled into the driveway, everything really was normal. Pontar was safe. The house untouched.
And yet, Yennefer’s hands trembled as she turned the keys in the ignition and unlocked the front door. One short errand had left her emotionally drained. Was this what life would be like now? A constant undercurrent of fear? Obsessively checking the cameras, paralyzed every time she had to leave the dog alone?
After dinner, once Ciri had retreated to her room, Yennefer sat at the kitchen table and pulled out her phone. She reviewed the list of camera models Triss had written down for her last Friday. She had to order them today. Maybe more coverage meant more peace of mind.
She found two that seemed right—affordable enough to fit the budget, even with all the vet bills stacking up. She scrolled without much focus, just trying to detach herself a bit from reality when her phone rang.
“Hey,” Triss greeted her. Just hearing her voice made Yennefer feel lighter. “Finally done. This article is going to kill me. How are you? How’s the pup?”
“We’re in the brace until Friday,” Yennefer sighed. “Besides that, he’s okay. Though…”
She hesitated.
“I had to leave him alone today. Just for a bit, to pick up Ciri. First time since he came back.”
“And how did it go?”
“Not great. I mean, nothing happened, but… it was hard. For me.”
“I can imagine.”
“I was on edge the whole drive.”
“That’s normal, Yennefer.”
“No. It’s not. I can’t live like this, Triss…”
Yennefer shifted the phone to her other hand, pressing her fingers to her temple as if she could massage the tension away.
“Give yourself time,” Triss said gently. “You know this is all a process. It won’t be perfect right away.”
“I know…”
There was a moment of silence between them before Triss continued.
“Listen, Yen, there's this new pizza place that just opened near the office, everyone's raving about it. I thought maybe I could bring dinner over tomorrow? Do you need anything? Bread, fruits?”
Yennefer hesitated. Pizza for dinner almost sounded like… a date. With Ciri there. Their first time all together since she and Triss had become something more.
“You don’t have to shop for us,” she said at last.
“I know I don’t,” Triss replied, and Yennefer could practically hear the smile in her voice. “But since I’ll be there anyway, I can pick up whatever you need.”
Yennefer smiled despite herself. Triss always had a way of simplifying things. As if to say: Look, we can have normal. Pizza. Fresh fruit. Everything’s okay.
“In that case, I'd love to,” she said. “Dinner sounds perfect. Ciri will be thrilled.”
“And what about you?” Triss asked, her voice dropping softer, like she wasn't sure if she had the right to ask but needed to anyway.
“I will be too,” Yennefer answered softly. “You know that.”
“I like hearing you say it, Yennefer.” There was warmth in her voice, carrying a smile Yennefer could almost see.
“Thank you for everything,” Yennefer said quietly.
“No need to thank me. That's what friends are for.”
“Oh… right. Friends,” she repeated, the word coming out slower, her disappointment barely contained.
“We are still friends,” Triss added gently, sensing her hesitation. “Along with everything else. That’s important to me, Yennefer. That you’re still my friend, and that what we have is growing from there.”
“Yeah. We’re still friends,” she agreed, for the first time really realizing how much of their relationship was built on trust, respect, and calm understanding. “I’d like it to stay that way. Along with everything else.”
“I’m glad,” Triss said. “I miss you, you know?”
“We saw each other yesterday…”
“Oh come on, can’t you just admit you miss me too?” she laughed.
“I can. And I do,” Yennefer replied. “But I have to keep up appearances.”
“We’ll talk about those appearances soon. I’m off to grab some food. I'll text you tomorrow when I’m headed over, okay?”
“Sure. Enjoy your meal. We’ll be home all day, so no rush.”
“Perfect, and I’ll message you later anyway…”
“I hope you do,” Yennefer said, smiling. “See you tomorrow.”
She hung up. She felt better. Not perfect, but better. And that was already more than she’d hoped for.
The evening passed quietly. Ciri quickly got lost in her homework, Pontar curled up and fell asleep in his usual spot, and Yennefer tried to pretend she could focus on something other than glancing at her phone every few minutes.
But her mind kept circling one thing: tomorrow. The fact that Triss was coming.
When she finally drifted off, her sleep was restless again. She woke before her alarm, more exhausted than she'd been the night before and still wrapped in the sheets she and Triss had shared.
She drove Ciri to school almost in silence, her attention split between the road and the screen of her phone, where the camera feed showed the driveway. Red lights. All red lights. Again.
When she got home, she paused in the doorway, watching Pontar stretch sleepily on the rug.
He’d been alone. Again. And nothing had happened. Again.
Everything was fine, just like the day before. And still, she couldn’t shake the tightness in her chest, the quiet tension that hadn’t left her body. She would have to do it all again today… Leave the house, drive to pick up Ciri. Somehow that felt harder than any cave rescue.
She was a bundle of nerves, holding it together only because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew Triss would be there soon. That she would be close. And maybe that would be enough to keep her from falling apart.
Right at six, she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Yennefer glanced at the clock, a little surprised. Triss usually ran a few minutes late—not that it ever bothered her—but today she was right on time. She smiled to herself.
“I'll get it!” Ciri shouted, springing off the couch and rushing toward the door. Pontar lifted his head, but stayed in his bed, careful not to put weight on his injured leg.
Yennefer stood slowly, absentmindedly brushing her hair over one shoulder. It was loose again. And once again, she was nervous.
“Hey!” Triss called from the entryway. “Still warm!”
Yennefer stepped into the hall, where Ciri was already helping Triss with the bags. The scent of fresh pizza filled the air.
“Hi,” Yennefer said, trying to make her voice sound casual.
Triss looked at her, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Yennefer’s heart skipped at the intensity of that gaze. She quickly looked away, worried that Ciri might notice something.
“I brought pizza,” Triss said, holding up two boxes. “And those groceries I mentioned. Fresh bread, some fruits. The raspberries are wonderful right now, even though the season’s almost over. Oh, and grapes.”
“Thank you.” Yennefer reached for the bags. Their fingers brushed, and a shiver ran up her arm. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” Triss smiled, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
“Should we eat in the kitchen or the living room?” Ciri chimed in, completely unaware of the quiet tension between the adults.
“Living room,” Yennefer decided quickly, using it as an excuse to step away into the kitchen.
There, she unpacked the groceries in silence.
“Need help with anything?” Triss’s voice was suddenly close to her ear, and Yennefer flinched slightly in surprise.
“You can grab the plates,” she replied, not turning around.
Triss moved beside her to reach the cupboard. She was close—too close—and Yennefer had to fight the sudden urge to lean into her.
“Triss, did you get the pepperoni one?” Ciri called from the living room.
“Of course,” Triss answered, stepping back. “Pretty sure you said that was your favorite.”
Her voice carried a smile, and Yennefer found herself smiling too.
When they returned to the living room, Ciri had already set the pizza boxes on the coffee table. Pontar watched them from his bed, his nose twitching as he caught the scent of food.
“They look delicious,” Yennefer said, placing a jug of water and glasses on the table.
“Supposedly the best pizza in town,” Triss replied, taking a seat beside Ciri on the couch. “At least according to everyone in the office.”
Yennefer sat in the nearby armchair, doing her best not to stare. But her gaze drifted to Triss anyway, especially when Ciri wasn’t looking. Their eyes met several times during dinner, and each time it sent waves of every possible emotion through her.
“How was school?” Triss asked, turning to Ciri.
“Normal,” the girl shrugged. “Our history teacher announced a test next week. And we have to prepare a geography presentation. About climate change.”
“I can help you with that, if you like,” Triss offered. “We wrote a lot about it last spring. I’ve got plenty of material.”
“Really?” Ciri’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That’d be awesome!”
“Maybe you two could stop by sometime. You can go through my notes and pick what you like.”
“Can we, Mom?” Ciri turned to Yennefer, hopeful.
“If Triss has the time…” Yennefer replied, letting her gaze linger on Triss a bit longer than she meant to. “Then I think it’s a great idea.”
“Perfect,” Triss smiled warmly, and something in Yennefer softened at the sight. “When’s it due?”
“A little over two weeks from now,” Ciri answered calmly.
“Then we should be able to figure something out.”
“Definitely,” Yennefer said with a smile. She knew Triss wasn’t just offering to help out of politeness, and she wasn’t doing this just for her. She wanted to spend time with both of them. That meant more than Yennefer could say.
Dinner flowed easily from there. They talked about school, weekend plans, and a new movie Ciri wanted to see. Yennefer watched as Triss laughed at Ciri’s jokes, animatedly told stories about her work, and leaned over to pet Pontar, who wandered over after dinner, tail wagging.
She fit so naturally into their evening, their home… their life. Like she’d always been there.
At one point, Ciri got up to grab more water from the kitchen, leaving the two women alone for a moment.
“You okay?” Triss asked quietly, leaning in just enough.
“Yeah,” Yennefer nodded, allowing herself to meet her gaze without hesitation. “Thank you for coming. This… helps.”
“You’re not alone in this,” Triss replied, just as quietly.
Footsteps from the kitchen pulled them apart. Triss leaned back in her seat while Yennefer quickly raised her glass, pretending to sip. But something still flickered in their eyes, something far from friendship. She knew it, and eventually, Ciri would notice too.
For now, though, her daughter returned and sat on the floor by Pontar, animatedly talking about a new game she’d played with Cerys. And for now, this—just being together—was enough.
When it was time to say goodbye, the three of them walked to the entryway. Ciri, still excited about the presentation, chattered on.
“Do you think I could add graphs? My teacher always gives better grades for graphs.”
“Of course,” Triss smiled, pulling on her jacket. “I’ve got loads of data, Ciri. We’ll definitely find something useful.”
Yennefer lingered near the wall, watching them with a mix of warmth and quiet frustration. She wished she could say goodbye to Triss alone—tell her how much this evening had meant, how much lighter it felt to have her there.
But Ciri was right there, handing Triss a scarf she’d forgotten on the hook. She was part of this. An essential part.
“See you soon!” Ciri said brightly, then stepped back to stand next to her mother.
“Thanks for dinner,” Triss said with a smile, her gaze shifting to Yennefer. There was something in her eyes, as if she too wished they could have just one moment to themselves.
Yennefer stepped forward.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, her voice more formal than she’d intended.
“Always happy to help,” Triss replied, trying to keep it light.
For a heartbeat, Yennefer caught hesitation in her eyes. A flicker toward her cheek, as if Triss was weighing a gesture—one that would be natural between friends. But Yennefer had never been that kind of friend. And Ciri would definitely notice.
Before Triss could decide, Yennefer stepped in and embraced her. With her back to Ciri, she allowed herself to close her eyes. She held Triss tighter than she probably should have, her lips brushing against the fabric on her shoulder—a brief, almost imperceptible touch. But Triss felt it. She had to.
When they pulled apart, Triss’s eyes said more than words ever could.
“Take care,” Yennefer said. She could feel her cheeks flushing.
“It was good to see you,” Triss replied with a soft smile, glancing briefly at Ciri but letting her gaze settle longer on Yennefer.
Once the door closed behind her, Ciri let out a long yawn.
“I think I’ll go take a bath,” she announced. “I’ve got to wake up early tomorrow.”
“All right,” Yennefer nodded, still feeling Triss’s warmth, her scent lingering on her skin. “Don’t stay up too long.”
“Can I use your bath oil?”
“Go ahead.”
Once Ciri was upstairs, Yennefer leaned against the door and closed her eyes. None of this was easy—those restrained gestures, the stolen glances, the quiet intensity they had to suppress. But maybe that’s what made every moment feel so charged. Maybe that’s why a simple goodbye hug could carry so much meaning.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Triss:
'I really liked tonight. Even though I had the worst urge to kiss you! Miss you already. Good night <3'
Yennefer smiled at the screen, staring far too long at the little heart emoji.
The weekly routine was starting to wear her down. She’d never minded structure, scheduled missions, or predictable days, but this time everything felt too tense, too fragile. Driving Ciri to school had become a nightmare. Every outing without the dog pushed her closer to the edge. Red lights, traffic jams, a driver in front of her crawling over a solid line. It was hell.
On Friday, she woke up to the sound of rain. It took her brain a moment to register it, but it must’ve started sometime during the night. The day was miserable, classic autumn gloom. Cold, wet, colorless. She muttered a curse under her breath as she got up from the pullout couch in her office. She knew that just a quick walk across the parking lot would be enough to get her and Pontar completely wet.
At least this morning, she was taking Ciri to school with him. Then came a vet appointment, and after that, a visit to Triss—something they’d agreed on last night after exchanging a few messages. Some of them had been… intense. She could feel the tension between them rising again after Tuesday. And if she'd had doubts about whether they’d rushed things the previous week, after their night together, those doubts were long gone. If Triss were to take the lead again, she wouldn’t stop her. She wanted her.
By the time they left the vet’s office, it was still raining. Yennefer held Pontar’s leash tightly, jaw clenched—not just from the cold. The brace would stay on through the weekend. Better safe than sorry. He’s not a regular dog.
Just one more weekend, Yennefer.
It made sense, of course. Shani had explained it clearly: a few more days of rest for the ligaments. Yennefer understood. She accepted it.
But she was still frustrated. Still tired. The kind of exhaustion that clung to your skin like wet clothes.
The rain never stopped. A fine mist had settled into the air, turning everything into a blur of gray. The windshield wipers clicked steadily as she pulled out of the clinic parking lot. Pontar lay quietly in the back seat, turned away from the road. He looked miserable, soaked through, fur clinging to the blanket underneath him.
Yennefer drove slowly, cautiously. And her mind, as usual, wouldn’t stop spinning.
Lately, every day blurred into the next. Vet appointments, rushed grocery orders, half-cooked meals, stressful school runs. Sitting at home, watching camera feeds, watching Pontar sleep. Endless texting with Triss.
Only Triss was light in this dull, muted world. Only with her did Yennefer feel something still glowing inside.
And yet, it also felt like life was slipping through her fingers. Like the rain on the window—blurred, fleeting, impossible to hold.
She kept driving, staring out at the gray buildings, the gray roads, the gray trees losing their leaves. Everything looked the same. Like a dream, she couldn’t wake up from.
She stopped at a red light and watched the raindrops slide down the windshield. One drop caught up with another, merged, grew heavier. Then vanished.
She wondered if that was what losing your life looked like. Not one huge tragedy, not some dramatic accident or fatal mistake. Just everyday life, eating away at you. Rain after rain. Hour after hour.
She knew there was more to her life than that suspended fog. She looked at Pontar asleep behind her. She had Ciri—her daughter, her dream come true, waiting at school. And Triss, who could clear the clouds with a single glance. She came out of nowhere, swept her off her feet like an avalanche, but didn’t abandon her. She was there, waiting to catch her.
When the light turned green, Yennefer didn’t think too hard about how all of this had worn her down. About how much it had gotten to her. How much she’d let it. Even with a plan, even with precautions, she felt… sad. But deeper than usual. Heavier.
She turned the car toward Triss’s apartment. Just a brief visit. Just a break from the gray. A reminder that hope still existed. Triss never tried to cheer her up with fake optimism. She didn’t offer forced smiles. Triss was real and that was the medicine. The best remedy she could hope for.
She crossed the parking lot quickly, but still got wet. Pontar shook himself off, ears flapping as they reached the stairwell. Yennefer looked down at him. His paws were soaked and muddy. He’d already left dirty prints in the hall and elevator. So had she, but at least she could take her shoes off.
She knocked. Pontar paced between her legs.
“You don’t have to knock, Yennefer,” Triss said, opening the door with a quiet laugh. “You two look like a disaster.”
“I wish I could say you do too,” Yennefer replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. That was the Triss effect.
In the hallway, she took off her jacket and shoes. Then she looked at Pontar.
“You wouldn’t happen to have something to…?” She hesitated, gesturing to his muddy paws. “To wipe him down with? Or he’ll wreck your floor.”
Triss just smiled, shaking her head gently.
“It’s just a floor. I’ll clean it later.”
She stepped to the closet, pulled out a small towel, and handed it over without a word. The fabric was soft, slightly faded.
“Maybe this should be Pontar’s towel now,” she said with a grin, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Yennefer crouched beside the dog, who patiently lifted one paw at a time for her to wipe.
“He’s got his towel here faster than I do,” she muttered, more to herself.
The weight of that sentence hit only after she said it aloud. She looked up at Triss. Triss had stopped in the hallway, watching her carefully.
“I wouldn’t mind if you brought something of yours,” she said quietly. “If you'd like to.”
Her voice was steady, but Yennefer knew she meant it. They looked at each other for a long second. Then Yennefer turned back to Pontar, smiling faintly as she focused on his bandaged leg.
That one sentence from Triss made her feel—no, know—that she had somewhere to return to. Someone who truly wanted to wait for her. Triss, and her gift for saying the exact right thing.
They had breakfast side by side at Triss’s small kitchen table. Yennefer told her everything Shani had said—about the rehab plan, how Pontar’s leg was healing, and the uncertainty surrounding his return to duty.
“Next checkup’s Monday,” she said, a trace of regret in her voice.
There was relief in being able to share it all with someone who really understood. She could admit she was sick of the brace, tired of how long things were taking—even though they both knew it was necessary. Triss understood. She didn’t judge. She didn’t offer solutions.
After breakfast, they moved to the couch in the living room. Triss’s apartment was much smaller than Yennefer’s house, but it had a warmth that hers lacked. Long white curtains hung thickly by the glass balcony doors, framing the view like a soft border. On clear days, you could see the mountains stretching in the distance—reminding Yennefer of what she loved most: her work, and the freedom she found in it.
But not today. Today, the rain had blurred the view into gray streaks. Beyond the glass, the city was a muted wash of rooftops and fog. And yet, something else caught her eye. Closer, much closer. A crane. And what looked like the beginning of a new construction site.
“They’re building something out there?” she asked as Triss sat beside her, turning to face her.
“You just noticed?” Triss smiled gently. “They’re expanding the neighborhood. More apartment buildings.”
“That’s a shame. You’ve got such a beautiful view.”
“Not just from the window,” Triss replied with a small, teasing smile, her eyes lingering on Yennefer’s face just a little longer than usual.
They both smiled, sharing a moment of quiet, familiar flirtation. A kind of moment that, just a few weeks ago, would have felt impossible.
“You know,” Triss tilted her head, resting one arm on the back of the couch, her fingers nearly brushing Yennefer’s hair. “I’ve been thinking… about you going back to work.”
Yennefer felt a flicker of unease. Was Triss worried about her safety? About her going back into dangerous situations?
“I think maybe I should go back too,” Triss continued, tilting her head a little more. “I mean… show up at the base again. I always came by during your day shifts, but…”
“But?” Yennefer prompted, watching her search for the right words.
“Am I going to be a distraction now?” Triss asked, uncertainty slipping into her voice. “Things are… different.”
Yennefer hesitated. She hadn’t even considered that their new relationship might affect work. And maybe she should have. But there had been so many other things on her mind—mostly what to do with the dog once she was back on duty.
“I don’t know…” she admitted honestly. “I haven’t thought about it. But it shouldn’t be an issue. You’re our journalist, you have every right to be there.”
“It was hard enough to stay focused with Ciri around…” Triss bit her lip, and Yennefer caught the way her eyes briefly dropped to her mouth.
“Hard?” Yennefer raised a brow, her heart quickening.
“Not to look at you,” Triss said, her voice lower than usual. “Not the way I wanted to…” She trailed off, cheeks tinting pink.
Yennefer knew it probably wasn’t the right moment, but Triss had reminded her of something that had been sitting in the back of her mind all week.
“About Ciri…” she began, rubbing her temple. “I know it’s not the time. But it keeps looping in my head, and I don’t know how to shut it off.”
Triss tilted her head. “What is it?”
“You’re not upset?”
“Upset? About what?”
“That I haven’t told her. About us,” Yennefer’s voice faltered slightly on the last word, it still felt new, almost unreal when she said it. “And that we had to pretend we were still just friends.”
“Yennefer.” Triss moved closer, cupping her face in both hands. Her touch felt natural, as if she’d done it a hundred times. “She’s your daughter. You’ll know when the time is right. And we’re still friends, aren’t we? We weren’t pretending, we were just being careful.”
“I just… I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed, or…” Yennefer stopped. She wasn’t even sure why it mattered so much to explain, but it did.
“I think even if you were feeling ashamed of all this… that would be normal,” Triss said softly, meeting her gaze with quiet understanding. “You’ve always been with men...”
“I want to be with you now,” Yennefer said, the words barely louder than a breath. She needed Triss to hear it, to know it. When everything else in life felt broken and gray, she needed this one thing to be real. “The thing about women… it was always there. I just never realized it.”
“I’m glad,” Triss whispered, leaning in close enough that Yennefer could feel her breath against her skin. “That it’s me.”
“I’m glad too,” Yennefer murmured back, just before their lips met.
The kiss began gently, like most of their kisses so far. Tentative, almost shy, as if neither of them fully believed it was truly happening. But then Triss shifted. Without breaking contact, she moved, straddling Yennefer’s lap with a confidence that felt both sudden and completely natural. Her hands came to rest on Yennefer’s shoulders.
Yennefer instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist, steadying her by the hips. A flush of heat spread through her chest. Everything about this was new. Triss, on the other hand, seemed more at ease, more certain, like she was gently pushing past an invisible boundary.
“Can I sit like this? You don’t mind?” Triss asked, leaning in just enough to press her forehead to Yennefer’s. Her hands stroked the back of her neck, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
“I’m not so sure you’re allowed to do that, Merigold,” Yennefer murmured, trying to sound playful, though her voice came out lower, rougher than usual.
Triss stole a quick kiss and straightened up, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Yennefer found herself studying her. Triss on her lap was something entirely new, a deeper level of closeness that made her chest tighten in ways she hadn’t expected.
“So, about work?” Triss asked softly. Her hands were still exploring, fingers drifting over Yennefer’s shoulders and neck.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that,” Yennefer replied, glancing pointedly at their current position.
“Oh, that’s a shame…” Triss sighed with mock disappointment. “I like having you close.”
“I do too,” Yennefer admitted, surprising herself with how easily the words came.
“Mhm… maybe I’ll stop by the station,” Triss murmured. “Talk to Crach, take some notes…”
“You’re planning to pretend you’re working?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow with a small smile.
“No,” Triss laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “I’ll just be discreet. You won’t even notice I’m there.”
“That’s impossible, Triss. I always see you.”
Yennefer noticed Triss wasn’t looking her in the eyes anymore. Instead, her gaze lingered on the place where her fingers now rested—right at the base of Yennefer’s throat, just above the edge of her shirt.
“You’ve got a lot going on right now, Yennefer,” Triss said gently.
“I know. And thanks to you, I haven’t completely lost my mind.” Yennefer’s hands slid slowly to her hips, grounding herself in the sensation of being near her.
Triss stared at her, and there was something in her eyes now—something deeper than just desire. She reached out and cupped Yennefer’s face again, pulling her into another kiss. This time, she leaned into it fully, guiding them both back against the couch cushions. It wasn’t innocent anymore. The kiss was long, drawn out, and so full of emotion that Yennefer had to grip her thighs tightly to steady herself. It overwhelmed her, but in the good way.
Eventually, Triss pulled away and slid off her lap, settling beside her. Yennefer wrapped her arms around her again, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. Now it was her turn to stroke her arm slowly, carefully, as if Triss were the most precious thing she’d ever held.
They sat there, suspended in a moment that belonged only to them. Across the room, Pontar lifted his head from where he was curled up by the balcony, watching them for a beat before resting it back down—seemingly accepting this new reality.
They didn’t need words right now. And the desire that had flared up inside Yennefer had shifted, into something quieter but far more important. For once, she didn’t feel frustrated by the restraint. That, too, was new.
Then Yennefer’s phone rang, shattering the quiet with the sharp, urgent sound of an emergency alert. Both women flinched, jolted out of their trance. Yennefer recognized the sound instantly.
She was being called to the unit.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Yennefer muttered, already pulling away from Triss as she grabbed her phone. “I have to go.”
“What? Why, Yennefer?” Triss stared at her, confused, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss.
“The Call just came in. They need me on site,” Yennefer replied, tapping the screen to confirm her dispatch.
Triss froze on the couch, and the warmth that had just lit up her face faded, replaced by something dimmer, more distant.
“But… do you have to go? Aren’t there others? I mean…”
Yennefer stopped and looked at her. Something in Triss’s face hit her right in the chest. That familiar ache. That sting of knowing she’d let someone down. Again.
“Triss,” she said, caught off guard by how much it hurt. “I thought you’d understand…”
Triss lowered her gaze, rubbing the back of her neck. Yennefer knew that gesture well. It meant Triss was trying to hide what she really felt. Retreating.
“I do,” she said quietly after a moment. “Go. It’s okay.” Then she turned her eyes to Pontar, who had perked up at the word “call” and was already moving toward the door. “Leave him with me. I’ll take care of him.”
“Thank you.” Yennefer stepped closer and kissed her, a quick press of lips that carried more meaning than time allowed. She wanted to say something else—something to soften the sting in Triss’s eyes—but there wasn’t a right moment for it. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Please… be careful,” Triss said softly, biting her lip. Yennefer gave Pontar a sharp command and headed for the door. Once it closed behind her, she slipped into her work mode, leaving the weight of emotion behind in Triss’s apartment.
Adrenaline was already surging through her. Not just because of the mission, but because she could finally do something. That was what she needed.
The chaos of a field operation meant she could observe her team. Watch the rescuers up close, maybe catch something suspicious. It was the perfect moment. A crossover of shifts, unfamiliar volunteers, equipment swaps—messy, unpredictable. Just what she needed to see things clearly.
But as she climbed into the car, a shadow of doubt crept in. She had done it again… Chose the job over everything else. And this time, seeing Triss’s face, she wasn’t sure it had been the right choice.
Maybe it never was.
By the time she arrived, it was clear the situation required all available hands. The night shift had just wrapped a grueling rescue in the cave, and a new alert had come in—an adult woman was missing, likely lost in the forest. Arthur gave a quick rundown: the main team would be sent on the new search. The rest needed to help clean up and secure equipment from the cave.
“Volunteers for cave cleanup?” the chief asked.
Eskel and Rience raised their hands almost at the same time. Coën glanced at them, then did the same. Yennefer hesitated for only a fraction of a second before raising her hand as well. Two more volunteers followed her.
How was she supposed to join a search operation without Pontar? Let the current shift handle it. She’d help with the cave cleanup and maybe still manage to pick up Ciri from school.
The shift leader quickly assigned teams and broke down the tasks. Yennefer pulled out her phone and sent quick messages to Crach and her daughter, summarizing the situation and setting up a backup plan in case she got delayed.
In the garage, while everyone was loading gear into the trucks, Syanna caught up with her.
“You okay?” she asked, brushing Yennefer’s shoulder lightly. “Not coming with us for the search?”
“I’m fine,” Yennefer said with a tight smile. “Without Pontar, I feel like I’m missing a leg. I’ll go with the guys to the cave.”
Syanna nodded in quiet understanding and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.
“It’s not the same without him,” she murmured. “We all feel it.”
The rain hadn’t stopped for a moment. Yennefer climbed into the vehicle, her rescue coveralls already damp and far from ideal for carrying heavy gear.
Eskel was driving, Rience in the passenger seat. In the back, Coën sat with two younger volunteers from a different unit. For a while, no one spoke. The only sound was the rain hammering the vehicle.
Yennefer pulled out her phone again and typed a quick message to Triss:
'Heading to clean up the cave site. There's also a search going on, but the cave should go quicker. I’ll be back sooner.'
The reply came almost instantly:
'Be careful. We miss you.'
That simple we miss you—meant to include both Triss and Pontar—made her smile. She slipped the phone into her pocket, warmed by something no downpour could wash away. But she also knew that where she was headed, there would be no warmth.
Caves were always miserable, damp, and cold, even in the middle of summer. And now? In the middle of autumn, during a downpour? Why the hell would anyone go in there?
Since mid-September, warnings had been posted—signs, online notices, all clearly stating that after heavy rain, the cave systems were prone to landslides and flash floods. And yet, people still ignored them, like tragedy was always meant for someone else.
She had rappelled down into the cave several times already, each time hauling up something heavy and soaked—backpacks, ropes, equipment that now felt twice as heavy as usual. The entrance was terrifying: a thirty-meter vertical shaft straight into the ground. A dark, dangerous hole. The cold seeped through her layers of clothing, sinking into her bones.
Rescuers were still hauling bags of debris. Up above, they were assisted by firefighters, mostly volunteers. She, being a woman, had been assigned the “lighter” work. For once, she didn’t have the energy to argue about gender-based task divisions. She put her strength into the job. That was all that mattered.
She remembered her plan—watching, observing, looking for signs. Suspicious behavior. But she couldn’t focus on it. Ropes. Carabiners. Descent gear. Safety. She concentrated on the task and forgot completely she was supposed to be on alert. The operation looked just like any other. Nothing strange. No red flags.
The rain had stopped, but a cold wind cut through the clearing, worming its way under her suit and into her spine. Droplets still fell from the treetops, tapping against her helmet and shoulders. Everything was soaked, the earth had turned to slush, and each step was a slip.
There were still people everywhere, even though the rescue itself was technically over. The rockfall that had separated one of the girls from the group turned out to be a chunk of stone weighing over a ton, blocking the corridor and cutting off light and escape. Rescuers had chipped away at it all night. Piece by piece. Into bags, then hauled up. More than a ton of rock carried out through the cave’s narrow throat.
The girl had been found alive. From what Yennefer had heard, she’d only broken her arm and was moderately hypothermic. A good outcome. Usually, people buried under landslides weren’t so lucky. Now it was a just cleanup. Firefighters and police were securing the area. Journalists stood tireless behind the tape, waiting for details, snapping photos, eavesdropping. Locals lingered too, pretending to be there by chance, though the wet, cold weather made that claim challenging to believe.
When she finally hauled out the last bag and backpack, she made her way through the muddy trail to the vehicle. She wasn’t going back inside. Her job now was to deliver the gear and help secure the cave entrance. Another hour, max, and she’d be done. She glanced at her sports watch. A few minutes past one. She could just make it in time to pick up Ciri. Good news.
She threw the load into the trunk and secured everything with straps, by the book. Her suit clung to her skin, her tied-back hair heavy with rain. She unclipped her helmet, already irritated by everything. That always happened at the surface. Inside the cave, she could ignore discomfort. Only the task mattered. Outside was harder. Everything was harder lately.
Noise surrounded her—chatter, the clatter of gear, short commands shouted over the wind. Gusts carried the sounds oddly, bouncing them off the tall, jagged rocks that loomed in the middle of the forest like silent sentries.
She grabbed the tangled rope, shut the trunk and stepped behind the car, taking shelter beside it. Between the vehicle and the rock wall, there was barely a two meters of space—just enough to hide for a few moments. She needed those moments. A breath. Solitude.
Leaning her back against the cold metal, she felt her wet gear cling to the car’s surface. She unzipped her suit a little and pulled out her phone from a pocket. The screen lit up in the dimness. Her fingers, numb with cold, barely tapped the keys.
'We’re wrapping up. I’ll pick up Ciri and come for Pontar.'
She hesitated, staring at the screen for what felt like forever. Then added another line, shorter.
'I’m sorry I left. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.'
She slid the phone back into her pocket and zipped up, a gust of wind slipping through her collar like a blade. Then she grabbed the rope, her hands were so cold they felt disconnected, her fingers barely responding.
She ducked back behind the vehicle and started coiling the rope automatically, by habit. She’d done it hundreds of times before. That’s when she heard footsteps. A faint clink—metal on metal. Carabiners.
She kept coiling. Someone stepped into the narrow space behind her. She tensed instantly, her gut clenching with instinct, though she didn’t yet know who it was.
“Hiding from work?”
Rience’s voice. Familiar and foreign at the same time. It hit her harder than the cold ever could. She didn’t even know why. Maybe she was just raw.
Yennefer scoffed, eyes on the rope, fingers still moving.
“No,” she said sarcastically, looping another coil.
“Skipped out on the search party, huh?”
He leaned against the car the same way she had a minute ago and twisted open a water bottle. His suit, like hers, was soaked and dirty. The red now more brown. Mud. Everyone looked like that after a cave operation. Even in the sunshine.
“Without a dog, what’s the point?”
Her tone was clipped, her irritation rising.She heard a short laugh. Sharp. Unpleasant. Like cracking glass.
“So it does hurt,” he said.
His voice had changed. She looked up, still coiling. Her thoughts were spinning elsewhere now.
“What?”
“Your beloved four-legged hero. Ran off. Now unfit for duty.”
Each word landed like a stone.
“That stings, huh?”
He said calm, as if they were discussing the weather. Nothing important. But she could tell—he knew exactly what he was doing. Nothing about this was random.
Her mind clicked into place, snapping onto the track she’d been avoiding. She thought she was ahead of whatever was going on. That she was watching. Waiting. In control. She’d been wrong.
He stepped closer. Too close. She felt him, even with the wind between them.
“The harness fit?” he hissed.
His eyes gleamed with something far worse than spite. She stopped coiling the rope.
She looked at him. Cold stare. That stare she’d perfected for moments like this. She didn’t move, but every muscle was braced. Her heart pounded like a hammer, blood roaring in her ears.
Then came the words that froze her blood.
“I was wondering if I should order something for your little girl.” He tilted his head, mock-innocent. “Ciri, right? How old is she now…”
That’s when it snapped.
She lunged at him like a lioness protecting her cub. The rage that burst from her was primal, raw, deeper than anything she’d felt in years.
The rope slipped from her hands, landing in the mud with a dull splat. She grabbed his jacket and slammed him against the car. Their bodies hit metal with a thud, isolating them from the world. There was only them now, and the hatred burning between them.
“You sick fuck,” she hissed through clenched teeth, every syllable searing her throat. “It was you.”
Rience only smiled coldly, without a hint of fear. As if he’d been waiting for this moment. As if he’d planned it. He looked around briefly, then locked his gaze on her.
“Finally. Congratulations, Yennefer,” he said mockingly, though his face quickly darkened. Alarmingly. “You're pathetic.”
“What do you want?” she growled, pressing him harder against the car. She could feel his warm breath on her face, a cruel contrast to the cutting cold around them.
“You're going to disappear from the unit,” he spat, his voice now hard as stone. “And suffer.”
Her fingers clenched his jacket tight, despite the numbness in her hands. She felt her nails digging into her palms.
“You think I'm scared of you?” she snarled through her teeth, even though the fear was already threading its way through her veins like poison.
“You should be,” he answered calmly, with that same repulsive confidence that said he was in control. Completely in control. “If what I've done so far hasn't worked, it's time for… other steps.”
“Are you threatening me?” she hissed, her voice now trembling despite her best efforts.
“I'm warning you,” he smirked, and there was nothing human in his eyes. “And I suggest you keep quiet. I'm untouchable. Your boss knows it well.”
She felt the weight of fear crush down on her, squeezing her throat. Phillipa knows? The ground seemed to shift under her feet. Every piece of the puzzle that hadn't made sense now locked into place with terrifying precision.
“If you start talking… if you try anything… well, that little gift for Ciri might be the last thing she ever gets.”
She flinched like he'd struck her. She shoved him harder against the car, her forearm pressing against his throat.
“You son of a…” the words stuck in her throat, tangled in rage, fear, and something else… Helplessness so complete it eclipsed everything else.
“Get a grip, bitch,” he spat, and with one quick movement, he broke free from her hold, shoving her sideways.
She stumbled but stayed upright, mud splashing around her boots. He was stronger. He controlled every motion between them. She stared at him, trembling with fury and helplessness. The freezing wind whipped her face, mixing with the heat that now flooded her body. Her eyes burned—but not because of the cold.
“Disappear. Or you'll regret it,” he said, every word like a knife. “You. Or the ones you love.”
He adjusted his jacket like nothing had happened and stepped forward. But then he paused. Just for a second, he turned, and their eyes clashed like blades.
“Murderer,” he said quietly, then vanished behind the car, leaving her alone with the hammering of her pulse in her ears.
She stood there a moment longer, unable to move. Frozen. Just like that time in the mountains, when the storm had shown her how small and powerless she really was. Back then, she was fighting for herself. Now the stakes were different.
She was paralyzed not by fear for her life, but for Ciri’s. And that was a thousand times worse. Each breath scorched her from the inside. Panic crawled up her back like icy fingers. She couldn’t move. Her mind struggled to process what had just happened, but it couldn’t. It was too much. Her body, always obedient, now refused to respond. Fingers stiff, legs like concrete, her head flooded with static that drowned every rational thought.
None of it made sense. None of it.
The world kept going, unchanged, unmoved. Mud squelched under the boots of passing rescuers, gear clinked, voices called to one another. People bustled around, unaware of the war that had just been fought in that narrow space.
In her head, one word echoed again and again.
Murderer.
Notes:
This was one of those chapters where I had hundreds of ideas, but in the end I had to pick just one. I’m really curious what you’ll think about it all! Let me know—I’d love to hear your perspective.
Chapter 22
Notes:
Sorry for the slightly longer wait this time — I took a short break and actually managed to rest a bit. Now I'm back, heading toward the end of this story. Thank you so much for all your support. 💜
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Yennefer didn’t remember how she got back to the base… How she filed the report, changed her clothes, said goodbye to everyone. She followed protocol on autopilot, every movement automatic. Everything was a blur, like watching the world from underwater. Sounds reached her as if through glass. Muffled, distorted, unreal.
The drive to Ciri's school felt unreal. She drove in silence, no music, her fingers gripping the steering wheel too tight. She was frozen, down to the marrow. But her mind, that relentless, analytical engine, was running at full speed. Systematically, step by step, it assessed threats, catalogued variables. She had Ciri. The dog. Triss. Priorities. Safety first, then information. Could she tell her?
I was wondering if I should order something for your little girl. Ciri, right? How old is she now?
Just a casual mention of her daughter’s name. A threat, dressed as small talk. She couldn’t forget his tone. Precisely calibrated to convey one thing: he had power. He could do anything.
She’d lost control. Lunged at him. And he hadn’t even flinched. His laughter still echoed in her mind. Cold.
Just like that final word.
Murderer.
She still didn’t understand. Her mind, usually so ordered, now orbited that single word like a moth to flame. Drawn in. Terrified.
She pulled up in front of the school, scanning the area more thoroughly than usual. Her rescuer instincts kicked in automatically, her eyes sweeping over the street, people, cars. Identifying threats. Looking for anything improper. Rience had only just returned from the cave op, but what if he wasn’t acting alone? He said Phillipa knew. Said she couldn’t stop him. What if he had help?
Fear slid down her spine like ice, but somewhere deep inside her, something else was forming. A core of focus. Her mind began constructing a map of suspicion. Was everyone against her? Why? Or was that part of his game—divide, isolate, sow doubt. Classic manipulation tactics.
But why did it work? Why did she feel so crushed?
Five breaths in. Five out. Breath was the only thing she still controlled.
She realized she couldn’t go home. She didn’t want to go home. He knew where she lived, he’d proved it with broken glass, with those deliveries… with Pontar’s disappearance?
Fuck.
Her heart was hammering, sending panic signals to every limb. What if he knew where Triss lived, too? What if…
“Ugh, this day sucks,” Ciri’s voice broke into her thoughts as the passenger door opened. “You okay? You look… weird.”
Yennefer forced the muscles in her face into something vaguely resembling a smile. It felt stiff. False.
“I’m fine. We’re going to Triss’s, Pontar’s there,” she said, aiming for casual. Every word cost her effort, as if speaking in a foreign tongue.
“You sick or something? You look pale,” Ciri pressed, sharp as ever.
“It’s work,” Yennefer said, but hearing the sigh from the passenger seat, she added, “Really. It’s just work.”
And a mortal threat I don't fully understand, she thought
“Okay, but can I grab those notes from Triss right away?” Ciri asked, shifting gears like only a teenager could.
“We’ll talk when we get there,” Yennefer replied, pulling away from the curb.
Her eyes, trained from years in the field, moved constantly. Rearview, side mirror, road, repeat. Every car was a question mark. Every driver, a potential threat. She didn’t even know what Rience drove. Just the feeling she’d had when he first visited. The same gut-deep unease that now threatened to overwhelm her. A coldness that seeped into her bloodstream like poison.
She took the long way to Triss’s apartment, doubling back, changing lanes, checking for tails. When she finally tucked her car into a narrow spot between two others in the lot, her shoulders ached from tension. Her arms felt like they’d been carrying something heavy for hours. Maybe they had.
She looked up. Sixth floor. Triss’s windows.
Ciri pulled her into the elevator, already pressing the button for the sixth floor. When they stepped out, Yennefer gave her daughter the number to Triss’s apartment and watched as the girl darted down the hallway, knocked, and waited. Yennefer followed slowly, every step a quiet act of defiance against the weight pressing down on her.
Ciri disappeared inside, and a moment later Triss poked her head out. The expression on her face changed instantly, from a soft smile to deep concern.
“Something wrong happened?” Triss asked, her eyes scanning Yennefer’s frame like she was searching for visible injuries.
Yennefer didn’t answer. Her mouth twisted into a grimace of pain, and she shook her head. She knew she looked terrible, with her hair dripping wet and exhaustion carved into every line of her face. But Triss saw more than that. They stepped inside together. In silence. Yet nothing about this moment was truly quiet beneath the surface.
Yennefer’s gaze landed on Ciri, who was cautiously looking around Triss’s apartment.
“This place is beautiful, Triss,” the girl said with genuine admiration, her young face lighting up despite the tension in the room.
“Thank you,” Triss replied gently, but her eyes never left Yennefer.
Ciri took one last look around, then slowly approached Pontar, who was lying near the rug. His tail wagged furiously. He always lit up when he saw Ciri.
“Yennefer, will you please tell me what’s going on?” Triss said softly, taking her hand.
The touch broke Yennefer’s focus on her daughter. She turned, her eyes meeting Triss’s.
“I will,” she whispered. “Ciri?”
“What?”
“Can you stay here with Pontar for a bit?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even, even though every word felt like an uphill climb. “I… need to talk to Triss. Alone.”
“What’s going on? Why can’t I know? You could at least…”
“Ciri, please,” Yennefer said, cutting in. Her voice was tight. Her posture, rigid as a bowstring.
“Fine…” Ciri muttered, rolling onto her stomach next to the dog, but the look in her eyes was far too old for her eleven years.
Yennefer moved toward the bathroom, it was the closest door, the only place she could disappear behind for a moment. She needed a wall, a barrier, a breath of solitude. Triss followed her, hesitant, but Yennefer didn’t stop her. Once inside, Triss closed the door behind them.
The small space forced them to stand close. Yennefer leaned against the sink, her fingers gripping the porcelain edge. The coldness was oddly grounding. Her body trembled on the inside like every cell had turned against her. It was getting harder to hold everything together.
“He threatened Ciri, Triss…” she hissed through her teeth, the words nearly lost beneath the weight of fear and fury tangled in her throat.
“Who? What are you talking about?” Triss stepped closer, her arm gently brushing against Yennefer’s back, offering a touch of support.
“Rience,” she spat, the name venom on her tongue. Every syllable felt like it poisoned her mouth.
“That rescuer? Him? Yennefer, you’re scaring me…”
Yennefer looked up. In the mirror above the sink, her reflection stared back—gaunt, broken—and behind it, Triss’s eyes, wide with concern. She let out a shaky breath, the kind that comes before the truth you don’t want to speak.
“He’s behind everything. The slashed tire, the packages. I suspect he’s also the reason Pontar ran off.” She turned slowly toward Triss. “He caught me by my car. Asked about Pontar and Ciri… he… he asked what kind of gift he could buy her, and…”
Her voice broke. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see, let alone relive it. Saying it aloud only made it more real, as if naming it gave it form and power.
She felt Triss’s arms wrap around her, pulling her in without hesitation. Yennefer leaned into the embrace, resting her forehead against Triss’s shoulder. Her body sagged. All her strength had drained away at once.
Her hands, normally steady, decisive, hung limp at her sides. They didn’t return the hug, not at first. But instinctively, slowly, they found their way to Triss’s hips, resting there lightly as if searching for something solid to hold on to.
“I lost control, Triss…” she whispered. Her words dissolved into the fabric of Triss’s sweater. “I shoved him against the car. Hard. He didn’t even flinch. He laughed. And then he threatened to come after the people I love if I said anything.”
She felt Triss’s arms tighten. That pressure cracked something inside her. Her arms slid around Triss’s waist and held on properly this time. Her forehead pressed deeper into the curve of Triss’s neck, where she inhaled the familiar scent that always made her feel safe.
“Why is he doing this?” Triss’s voice trembled softly.
“I don’t know, Triss… That’s the worst part. I have no idea.” She hesitated. How much should Triss know? All of it. She deserved all of it. “He called me a murderer. And… I’ve never hurt anyone, Triss.”
Yennefer pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. She needed Triss to believe her. She needed one person in the world to know she wasn’t what he said.
“I’ve never killed anyone, Triss…” she whispered. Her eyes searched Triss’s face, pleading. “I couldn’t save them all. But I always tried. I always fought harder than I had to.”
“I know,” Triss said. She cupped Yennefer’s face gently and held her gaze, steady and full of love. “I know. And I believe you. But this… this has gone too far. You know that, don’t you? You can’t handle this on your own. Neither of us can.”
“Triss I….”
“Have you talked to Phillipa about any of this?”
“No…” Yennefer’s voice dropped, full of guilt. “I’ve been thinking about it, but… Triss, I just…”
“You don’t need to justify it,” Triss said calmly. “I understand. But now you have to report it.”
“I can’t go home. He knows where I live. He’s been there.”
“Then you and Ciri are staying here. I’m not letting anything happen to either of you,” Triss said firmly, eyes locked on hers.
“Triss…”
“Listen to me. Take a bath. Cry, if you need to. I’ll look after Ciri. We’ll cook dinner, watch something, go to bed. Tomorrow morning, we talk to Phillipa, okay? She can come here if needed. This has to be dealt with, Yennefer. You can’t keep pretending this is nothing.”
“Why didn’t I react sooner?” Yennefer asked, more to herself than anyone else. Her voice held genuine confusion, as if she were studying her behavior from a detached, clinical distance.
“Because you’re stubborn and way too self-reliant for your own good. But that’s not a flaw.” Triss leaned in so they were eye to eye. “What matters is that now you do the right thing.”
“I don’t know why…”
A sudden knock on the door cut her off.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Ciri’s voice was soft and worried. There was no frustration in it anymore, only concern.
Yennefer stepped back from Triss and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together before opening the door. She crouched down so that Ciri was taller than her and gently took her daughter’s hand in both of hers.
“No, sweetheart. Nothing’s okay,” she admitted quietly. She knew Ciri deserved honesty, even when it hurt. “But I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it will be.”
Ciri’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck, holding on as if she were the only thing keeping her steady. Yennefer hugged her back, pulling her close, feeling the slight tremble in the girl’s small body. She wanted to shield her from everything cruel and dangerous in the world.
“Come on, Ciri,” Triss said softly, brushing a reassuring hand along her shoulder. “You sit down. I’ll make some tea. Let your mom rest for a moment.”
Yennefer pulled away and stood up slowly. She looked at Triss. There was still a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes.
“We shouldn’t impose on you…”
“This isn’t imposing,” Triss interrupted firmly. Her expression left no room for argument. “This is what you do for people you love. And I don’t want to hear that you’ll be fine on your own.”
“Mom, can we stay here?” Ciri asked in a near whisper, her green eyes pleading.
Yennefer just nodded. She didn’t argue. This was the only place she wanted to be.
“I’ll get you something comfortable to wear. Take a bath and try to rest for a bit, okay?” Triss said, placing a hand on Yennefer’s arm and gently turning her toward the bathroom.
Yennefer nodded again.
“Triss, can we make lunch for Mom?” Ciri asked. A bit of light flickered in her eyes, like taking action gave her strength.
“Yes, you can help me if you like. Or you can just relax,” Triss replied, offering a warm smile.
“I want to help,” Ciri said firmly, glancing between the two women. A shadow of sadness lingered in her daughter's eyes, and Yennefer felt powerless to ease it—especially now, when she could barely keep herself from falling apart.
“Go wash your hands, then let’s get to work,” Triss said gently, steering Ciri toward the kitchen.
Ciri ran off, already scanning the cabinets as if looking for something to do. Yennefer stood frozen in place. Her body refused to move. A moment later, Triss returned carrying a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a matching shirt. Normally, the sight might’ve made Yennefer chuckle. But now, even smiling felt like too much effort.
She stepped into the bathroom and shut the door halfway behind her. She placed the clothes on top of the washing machine.
“Take all the time you need, Yennefer. We’re right here if you need us, okay?”
“Thank you.” Her voice was rough, like it hadn’t been used in days.
Triss stepped closer and kissed her gently. Yennefer held onto her a moment longer, as if that contact was the only thing keeping her from unraveling.
“The tub is all yours. I’ll put on some music… in case you want a bit more privacy.”
“I’m sorry for all of this,” Yennefer whispered, her throat tight with the weight of everything she couldn’t say.
“Stop apologizing… Yennefer.” Triss cupped her cheek, her fingers warm against Yennefer’s cold skin. “If you need anything, just text me, okay? We’ll make lunch. Slowly, quietly. Okay?”
“Okay.” Yennefer listened to the rhythm of her voice more than the words themselves.
Triss smiled and stepped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Yennefer looked at herself in the mirror. The face staring back didn’t feel like her own. The eyes were too empty. The jaw too tight.
She looked almost as hopeless as she felt.
She stood there, watching herself for a long moment, until music began drifting in from the kitchen. It was her favorite song. The one Ciri always called the sad lady song. And who was she now, if not a sad lady?
The tears came before she could stop them. A silent flood breaking through every wall. That song had always brought her close to tears, but now there was no holding them back.
She knew the music would mask the sound of her movements in the bathroom. She let the tears fall, warm and unrelenting. They traced wet paths down her cheeks and soaked into her shirt.
She turned on the tap, letting the tub fill slowly.The tears kept coming, quiet and unstoppable. She had always cried in silence, breathing through half-open lips, as if pain had to be endured in stillness. Now was no different.
She would get through this in her own way. Quietly. With music playing in the background. Music she was sure Ciri had chosen for her. Because her daughter was thinking of her. Care.
Lyrics floated through her fogged mind, brushing against something deep inside her.
'Don't ever let go.
Try to let go.
Don't ever…'
Evening settled in a strange limbo.
While Yennefer sat at the kitchen table watching, Triss and Ciri prepared a vegetable pasta bake. Ciri chatted enthusiastically about her latest school project, with Triss showing genuine interest in every detail. Though her appetite had vanished completely, Yennefer forced down a few bites of food. She didn't want to worry either of them—didn't want them to see just how deeply shaken she truly was.
During dinner, Triss’s hand occasionally found hers under the table, always when Ciri was distracted with food or mid-story. Each touch felt like a lifeline. Something solid to hold on to when her mind began to spiral. A gesture that gave her fleeting relief from the worst-case scenarios her brain kept spinning.
Despite the chaos inside, they tried to maintain the illusion of normalcy for Ciri’s sake. Triss showed her how to take better photos with her phone, explaining composition and lighting. Ciri’s curiosity and natural joy offered a welcome distraction from darker thoughts. But Yennefer couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Hunted. Her phone lay on the table, checked again and again, a compulsive, nervous tic. Her gaze often drifted to the window, where gray clouds hung low. The weight of fear sat heavy in her chest, impossible to ignore.
When it was time for bed, she knew sleep wouldn’t come. Her body was strung too tight. Her thoughts, too chaotic. The night stretched ahead like a quiet torture.
“You can take my bed,” Triss said as she showed them into the bedroom. “It’s big enough for both of you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Yennefer wanted to protest. To insist that she and Ciri could take the couch instead. That it wasn’t right for Triss to give up her own space. But the words caught in her throat. She couldn’t say them.
Later, once Ciri was asleep beside her in Triss’s bed, Yennefer lay awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. She turned from side to side, still feeling the unnatural cold creeping under her skin. Rience’s voice echoed in her head, and his face—twisted in that cruel smile—flashed behind her eyelids every time she tried to close them.
Triss’s scent clung to the room—on the pillows, the sheets, in the air—but it wasn’t enough. Her presence was like a drug Yennefer craved to quiet the screaming in her mind.
Before she could second-guess herself, she slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her daughter. She made sure Ciri was tucked in properly, then backed quietly out of the room. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet.
She paused in the living room, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. The pale glow from the streetlamps filtered through the curtains, casting bluish light across the furniture.
She moved quietly to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Behind her, she heard Triss shift on the unfolded couch. Her silhouette rose slowly in the dim light.
“Yen, are you okay?” Triss whispered.
“I just needed some water,” Yennefer answered, knowing how empty the excuse sounded.
“Come here,” Triss said. Something in her tone loosened the knot in Yennefer’s chest.
Yennefer obeyed. Setting the glass down, she walked over. Triss shifted to make space. Yennefer sat at the edge of the mattress, lowering her gaze to her hands. She could feel the heat radiating from Triss’s body.
“I can’t sleep without a plan…” she admitted, her voice rough.
“We have one,” Triss whispered. Her hand reached up and began tracing circles on Yennefer’s back. She leaned in, resting her cheek on Yennefer’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, you’ll talk to Philippa and…”
“It’s not enough…” Yennefer cut in, despair touching her voice.
“Yennefer, we can’t do more than that right now. You know it.”
“What if Philippa doesn’t believe me? What if…”
“We have to try,” Triss said softly. Her breath warmed Yennefer’s ear as she leaned closer. “This has gone too far. Threatening a child… He can’t get away with that.”
“You know it’s just my word against his,” Yennefer whispered, her fear tangible. “I don’t have proof.”
“Then we’ll get it,” Triss said firmly. “You have the cameras now, and I have contacts.”
Yennefer turned slightly to face her. In the dark, she couldn’t see the details.
“Why are you doing all this for me?” she asked.
“Do you really have to ask?” Triss’s fingers found her face in the dark, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.
“I just… I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” Yennefer murmured.
“I’m already in it,” Triss said gently. She smiled. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Something in Triss’s voice caught in Yennefer’s throat. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Triss’s in a kiss. When they pulled apart, Yennefer whispered,
“You deserve happiness, Triss… not all of this.”
“Everyone treats me like a child Yen. Like someone who needs protecting. But with you… I don’t feel like that. I don’t feel small or helpless or insignificant. I like believing I’m more.”
“You are more. So much more, Triss,” Yennefer said, raising her hand to cover Triss’s on her face, holding it there.
“Then let me stay. Let me help you. Life isn’t perfect, Yennefer. If I were going to run because it’s hard, what would be the point?”
“I don’t know…” Yennefer admitted quietly, feeling the weight of vulnerability. Giving up control to someone else was foreign territory.
“I would still choose you. Always.” Triss said simply, sincerely. And Yennefer believed her.
A faint smile ghosted across her lips. Somehow, even now, Triss could still make her smile.
“Can I stay here with you?” Yennefer asked, her voice barely audible.
“What about Ciri?”
She shrugged. Ciri was sound asleep. She wouldn’t notice. And right now, more than anything, Yennefer needed this. Needed her.
Triss shifted and fluffed the pillow beside her, inviting her in. They lay down together, and Yennefer nestled her head against Triss’s shoulder. The tension of the day began to loosen, replaced by the steady rhythm of Triss’s breathing. She felt Triss’s fingers find hers, curling gently around them.
“I’m scared…” Yennefer whispered into the dark. “I don’t understand why he called me a murderer… “
“I can try to look into him tomorrow…” Triss offered.
“No.” Yennefer shook her head, her hair brushing against Triss’s chin. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want you more involved than you already are. Please.”
“Alright…” Triss murmured, letting go of her hand and instead cupping her face. Her warm fingers traced the line of Yennefer’s cheek. Yennefer closed her eyes.
They lay there in silence. She shifted slightly, resting more comfortably against Triss, focusing on the steady beat of her heart.
“You know what?” Triss whispered.
“Mmm?” Yennefer hummed, her eyelids heavy now, her breath slow and deep.
“You're a total couch cat.”
“What?” Yennefer blinked, and a faint laugh escaped her.
“You come find me on the couch. Twice now,” Triss teased. “And once you decide you like someone, you even enjoy being petted.”
“'Like' is far too small a word,” Yennefer said softly. The confession slipped out before she could stop it.
She lifted her head to look at her, even in the dark. She didn’t need light to see her anymore. She knew the contours of her face.
Triss pulled her in again, finding her lips. They exchanged gentle kisses, they were too exhausted for anything more.
Eventually, Yennefer fell asleep in Triss’s arms, her mind finally quieted by the rhythm of her heartbeat. The last thing she registered before drifting off was a soft whisper against her ear.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re mine.”
For the first time in her life, she didn’t mind the idea of belonging to someone—of being someone’s.
She woke up very early, the first thing she felt was the warmth of Triss behind her. For a brief second, everything was still. Then the reality of her life hit again. Her heart sped up. She was wide awake.
Lying in bed no longer felt safe or comforting. It was suffocating.
Carefully, she slipped out from under Triss’s arm and stood up, glancing at the woman who had become her real refuge. She would rather not wake her, but she couldn’t leave without something small. A trace of tenderness. She bent down and kissed her lightly on the temple, then gently pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. After grabbing her phone and the sweatpants Triss had lent her the night before, she headed quietly to the bathroom to get ready for what lay ahead.
Freshly dressed and with her hair tied back, she walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, scrolling through messages in the team group chat. Rience was still there. Maybe he'd left a sign. A clue.
But there was nothing. He rarely spoke up in the chat, and when he did, it was short and professional. She remembered the moment he first arrived at the unit. Just before Triss. Of course those two things had to unfold side by side. No quiet beginnings. No peace for her and Triss.
“Where’d you go?” came a sleepy murmur from the living room.
A tangle of chestnut hair appeared above the blanket as Triss slowly pushed herself up. Yennefer smiled without thinking. She stood from the chair and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa exactly as she had the night before.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“You ran off on me again?” Triss leaned in and kissed her cheek, resting her head on Yennefer’s shoulder.
Yennefer reached up to run her fingers through her hair.
“No, I just got up a few minutes ago,” she said honestly. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You could have,” Triss murmured.
“Want coffee?”
“Mmhmm. Coffee, then breakfast, then the plan. Right?” Triss lifted her head and met her gaze.
“Right,” Yennefer nodded, lost again in the depth of her eyes.
They both stood, moving slowly. Yennefer made the coffee while Triss disappeared into the bathroom. Yennefer took Pontar for a quick walk around the building. Her hands trembled each time her thoughts returned to what the day held for her. The cold only made her shiver more.
Pontar didn’t want a long walk either. He was alert, sensing this wasn’t home. He took care of his business quickly, and they returned upstairs.
“Ciri still asleep?” Yennefer asked, sitting beside Triss on the couch again.
“She is.” Triss smiled. “Cold out there?”
“Very. It’s definitely nicer in here.”
They sipped coffee, speaking quietly about mundane things. The weather. Food. They both seemed to be holding back the real conversation, buying themselves a few more calm minutes before the storm.
Just after 8:00 a.m., Yennefer’s phone rang, slicing through the calm. The name on the screen sent a chill down her spine: Philippa.
She shot a glance at Triss before answering.
“Yes?”
“I need you to come to my place. As soon as possible,” Philippa’s voice was professional, precise.
“What happened?”
“Not over the phone. I’m waiting for you.”
That was it. Short. Direct.
Still, Yennefer felt her stomach twist into knots. She stared at the screen, but then the bedroom door creaked open. A sleepy Ciri appeared in the doorway, watching her silently.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“I need to talk to Philippa,” Yennefer said, her voice steadying as she turned toward Triss. “Will you two be alright for a little while?”
“Of course. Right, Ciri?” Triss stood and joined them.
“Yes. Are you coming back, Mom?” Ciri’s voice trembled just slightly.
“Of course I am. I’m going to her apartment, not work.”
Ciri stared at her for a moment longer, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her neck, holding tight.
“I’m worried… I don’t want you to go.”
“I’ll be fine,” Yennefer said, gently pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I’m just going to talk. She’s going to help us, okay? I promise. I’ll come back as soon as I can. I love you, my pretty one.”
Ciri pressed her lips together and nodded, stepping back. Yennefer exchanged a quick nod with Triss before they walked to the door together. She grabbed her jacket on the way.
“I will handle it quickly,” she said in a low voice. “Will you be alright?”
“Absolutely. Go. Be careful and come back when it’s done, okay?” Triss replied.
Yennefer hesitated for a second, then leaned in for a brief kiss.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Yennefer pulled up in front of a sleek apartment building on the outskirts of the city. The structure was cold and impersonal, like everything associated with Philippa. She took the elevator to the second floor and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” came Philippa’s voice.
Yennefer opened the door and stepped inside. The apartment was spacious and tastefully furnished. Philippa stood by the window with a glass in her hand. On the couch sat Sheala. That part hadn’t been mentioned.
“You didn’t say you’d have company,” Yennefer said, lingering by the threshold.
“This isn’t a social call,” Philippa replied coolly. “Close the door.”
Yennefer shut it behind her and moved farther inside. The tension in the room was suffocating.
“What the fuck is going on?” she asked bluntly.
Philippa set her glass down and pulled a white envelope from the desk drawer, handing it over without a word.
Yennefer opened it. Inside were photos. Her pinning Rience against a wall, her face contorted with fury. A handwritten note accompanied them: She leaves, or these photos go to the media.
“Where the hell did you get this?” she asked, blood draining from her face.
“Rience brought it this morning,” Philippa said, rubbing her tired eyes.
“How the fuck did he get these?” Yennefer tossed the photos onto the table, her hands trembling.
“I don’t care how. The fact is, he has them, and they’re dangerous.”
“So what? I’m supposed to be afraid of a few photos?” Yennefer scoffed, trying to control the fear rising in her throat.
“You’re supposed to take it seriously.”
“I was the one he provoked. He came after me and he threatened Ciri!”
“That’s not what the photos show,” Sheala said, picking one up. “From this angle, you look like the aggressor. And Rience isn’t stupid. He knows exactly how to frame a story.”
“It’s still just his word against mine,” Yennefer protested. “I’m not guilty of anything.”
“Not exactly,” Sheala said. “You’ve got that article about your dog that ran away. It's perfectly planned, Yennefer.”
That fucking article Triss had shown her.
She’d known it would stir trouble, but she never imagined it would become another piece of the puzzle. What Triss had said about the power of words came back to her now.
But she couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not before she had the facts.
“What does he want from me?” she asked, her voice sharper now.
“I looked into him,” Sheala said. “Your only link is Skellen. He was Rience’s closest friend.”
Yennefer froze.
“The rescuer I reported years ago for abusing his dog?”
“Yes,” Philippa confirmed. “The one who died in an avalanche during a solo climb six months after being dismissed.”
“I didn’t know that…. but it’s not my fault,” Yennefer snapped.
“Rience said he blames you,” Sheala said. “He believes if Skellen hadn’t lost his job and his dog, he wouldn’t have gone up there alone.”
“Fucking hell…” Yennefer whispered. “That’s insane.”
“Grief doesn’t need to make sense,” Sheala said flatly. “Sometimes it just needs someone to blame.”
Yennefer turned to Philippa with eyes narrowed.
“You knew about him? And you didn’t warn me?”
“We suspected something when we found the Skellen connection,” Philippa admitted. “But it was just a theory. I thought I could keep it under control, keep him under watch.”
“And you failed.”
“I did what I could. I kept him off your ops, away from you. But I didn’t know he’d target your personal life. I think… I think Pontar was him too.”
Yennefer looked away, locking her eyes on an empty vase. Rage rose, not just at Rience, but at the woman who should have told her sooner.
“So what now?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“You need to resign,” Philippa said quietly.
“No fucking way.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Philippa said, voice steely. “He’s connected. Really connected. Sheala confirmed it.”
“She’s right,” Sheala added. “He’s got reach. That’s why Philippa brought me in. This is bigger than your unit.”
“So I’m the scapegoat?” Yennefer’s voice cracked.
“And I’m supposed to risk the entire unit?” Philippa snapped. “You think I want this? That I’m happy to lose you? Tell me, Yennefer. Tell me what the hell else I can do!”
Yennefer was silent. She’d never seen Philippa like this before.
“I’m not leaving like a coward.”
“This isn’t cowardice,” Philippa said, more softly now. “This is protection. For you. For Ciri. For the others. I can’t sacrifice the whole team for one person.”
“Easier to sacrifice the one,” Yennefer said bitterly. “That’s very you. Well, don’t worry. Go protect your precious unit and leave me behind. I don't need your protection.”
“You need this more than you know.” Philippa stepped closer. “He’s already threatened Ciri. What’s next? I won’t take that chance.”
“Philippa…”
“Look at me,” Philippa said, now barely a step away. “Things between us haven’t been great lately, I know that. But you’ve always been my friend, Yennefer. I won’t let him destroy you.”
“So you’re kicking me out?”
“I want you to leave on your terms. For Ciri. For yourself.”
“Oh, how generous. So you’ve already decided.” Yennefer said bitterly.
“Yes. You can leave with dignity. That’s all I can offer.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll fire you,” Philippa said. “And I’ll live with you hating me if it means keeping you safe from him.”
It landed deeper than anything else. Not the threat, not the photos — this. Philippa’s fear. And that terrifying sense that even she didn’t have control anymore.
There was so much honesty in her voice that Yennefer felt something crack inside. If even Philippa and Sheala couldn’t stop him, what chance did she have?
“If you step down, he’ll get what he wants,” Sheala said. “And I can keep him away. I have… ways.”
“What ways?” Yennefer asked warily.
“Trust me. He won’t come near you or Ciri.”
“Can’t you do something now? So I don’t have to go?”
“I could,” Sheala said. “But it would get messy. Court, media, public opinion. You’d be suspended, and by the time it’s over, you won’t want to come back. I’ve seen it happen.”
Yennefer stared at her and believed her. She hated it, but she believed her. She finally started to understand the shape of the wall she was up against.
“What if I leave, and he still won’t let go? How do I trust that…”
“I told you, I’ll deal with him in ways that don’t involve paperwork,” Sheala said.
“Sheala…” Philippa warned.
“Relax, sweetheart. I’ve got it under control,” Sheala said, flashing a smile before turning back to Yennefer. “But first, you have to step down. Give him what he wants. That should be enough.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. None of them spoke, none of them moved. Yennefer couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts racing through her head. Rage churned beneath her skin, but she had nowhere to put it. What else was left for her to do?
She broke the silence.
“Ten years,” Yennefer whispered. “This was my life. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“I’ll see about a severance,” Philippa said. “Pontar stays with you.”
“What good does that do me?” Yennefer muttered. “I’ve got a kid. A home to keep. Fuck…”
“I know,” Philippa said, her voice steady. “If I could do more, I would, and you know that. But I can’t. Not this time. I’m sorry.”
Yennefer looked at her long.
“I need time. I need to think.”
“You don’t have time, Yennefer. This is the end…” Philippa began.
“End of next week,” Sheala interrupted. “That’s his deadline.”
“I’ll call,” Yennefer said.
She turned to leave, already reaching for the handle, but Philippa's voice stopped her.
“Yennefer. Don’t come in for your shift tomorrow.”
“What?” She turned back sharply, confusion tightening her jaw.
“Your unused leave was approved this morning,” Philippa said calmly. “And Pontar still needs care, so it all checks out. Talk to the team when you bring your decision.”
“My decision,” Yennefer echoed with a bitter laugh. It was sharp, but laced with sorrow. “Anything else?”
“Just remember why you’re doing this,” Philippa said softly. “For Ciri.”
“Be careful,” Sheala added at the same moment.
Yennefer only nodded and stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her. There was more dignity in that silence than in any argument. And dignity was all she had left to hold on to.
She had spent over an hour driving in circles around the city, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened. She needed time, even though, as Philippa had said, the decision had already been made. Eventually, she headed to Triss. It was time to take care of Ciri and face whatever came next.
She entered Triss’s apartment, closing the door behind her with more force than intended. Her jacket landed in a careless heap on the coat rack as she moved straight to the kitchen. Triss was making tea. Ciri was on the floor in the living room, leaning against the couch, with Pontar curled up at her side.
“I have to leave the job,” Yennefer said, her voice flat, one hand resting on the kitchen counter for support.
Triss turned sharply, still holding the kettle.
“Yennefer, what…”
“That fucking psychopath planned everything. Everything,” Yennefer cut her off, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. “He’s got photos that make it look like I attacked him. That article about Pontar going rogue… I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe it.”
“And Philippa…” Triss began, stepping closer.
“What about Philippa?” Yennefer snapped. “She made it perfectly clear, if I don’t resign, she’ll fire me. She says there’s nothing she can do. Nothing. Do you understand that? So what chance do I have? None.”
Her voice was low, but saturated with so much bitterness it filled the entire room like smoke.
“They’re treating me like garbage, Triss. Like I’m worthless. I have to walk away from everything because some asshole with the right connections blames me for his friend’s death…”
“Yennefer, stop,” Triss said gently, placing a hand on her arm and casting a glance toward the living room.
Yennefer turned and saw Ciri standing there, eyes brimming with tears, her face streaked and trembling. Pontar sat beside her, watching Yennefer with quiet concern.
“Mom…” Ciri’s voice shook. “What’s going on?”
Yennefer felt all the rage and bitterness collapse under the weight of guilt. Her mask cracked, revealing something raw underneath.
“I’m sorry, Ciri,” she said, crossing the room and kneeling in front of her. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“Did someone die?” Ciri asked, wiping at her face with her sleeve.
Yennefer sighed heavily, searching for the right words.
“No one you know. It’s something from a long time ago.” She placed her hands on Ciri’s shoulders. “Listen, sweetheart, go to the bathroom, wash your face, and get your things together. We’ll go home soon, okay?”
“But what happened?” Ciri’s voice was tight, full of worry.
“We’ll talk at home,” Yennefer promised. “Right now, please, just get ready.”
Ciri held her gaze for a moment, as if deciding whether she could trust her, and finally gave a small nod. She turned and walked toward the bathroom, Pontar following her like he understood exactly what she needed.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Yennefer collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, dragging her fingers through her hair in a gesture of pure frustration.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “This isn’t how any of it was supposed to go.”
Triss sat down across from her, her eyes full of concern.
“What exactly happened?” she asked softly.
Yennefer looked at her. “Rience was friends with Skellen,” she said calmly, though her voice carried a trace of bitter resignation. “The mountain rescuer I reported years ago for abusing a dog. He lost his job, and a few months later he died in the mountains during a solo climb. Rience blames me for his death.”
“That’s absurd,” Triss said, frowning.
“Of course it is,” Yennefer replied with a hollow smile. “But that doesn’t matter. Rience has photos that make it look like I attacked him. He threatened to publish them, to ruin the unit’s reputation. Philippa and Sheala can’t do anything.”
“Sheala?”
“She was there. Sitting quietly, nodding along like a loyal wife. ‘You have to resign, it’s the only way out.’” Yennefer shook her head in disbelief. “You know what’s the worst part? They’re all pretending they’re doing it for my own good. For Ciri. Like I’m incapable of deciding what’s best for us.”
“There has to be another way,” Triss insisted.
“There isn’t,” Yennefer said firmly. “Philippa made it clear, and I can’t risk Rience actually following through with his threats. Not after what he did to Pontar. Not when Ciri’s safety is at stake.”
“What are you going to do now?” Triss asked, reaching for her hand.
“I’m going home. I’ll call Geralt, ask him to take Ciri for a while. She’ll be safer with him until this idiot backs off.” Yennefer shrugged. “After that… hell if I know. I need to think.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Triss said gently, squeezing her hand.
Yennefer met her gaze. For a moment, she saw all the care Triss had been giving her—then, just as quickly, it was replaced by a flicker of hesitation.
“Triss?”
“There’s something else you should know,” Triss said quietly. “Ciri saw you kiss me this morning. Before you left.”
Yennefer froze. A hint of embarrassment washed over her face.
“Shit… I didn’t think.”
“She didn’t say anything,” Triss added quickly. “But I saw the way she looked at me. I think she was surprised.”
Yennefer let out a long breath.
“Maybe we should just tell her,” she said after a pause, meeting Triss’s eyes. “About us. She already saw it.”
“I think so too,” Triss said. “Better she hears it from us than makes up her version.”
The sound of running water came from the bathroom, followed by the click of the door opening.
“Ciri?” Yennefer called softly. “Can you come here for a second?”
The girl appeared in the kitchen. Her eyes were slightly red, and her expression wary.
“Sit down, please,” Yennefer said, gesturing to a chair.
Ciri obeyed, and Yennefer moved her chair closer, until their knees nearly touched. She leaned in, taking Ciri’s hands gently in hers and looking at her straight in the eyes.
“There’s something we wanted to talk to you about,” she began carefully. “Triss and I… we’ve started seeing each other. It’s new, and we’re still figuring things out, but…” She hesitated. “I wanted you to know.”
Ciri glanced from her mother to Triss, who was standing by the sink, then back again. Her expression was a mix of surprise and confusion.
“That’s weird,” she said at last, wrinkling her nose. “You were with Dad, and….”
“I know,” Yennefer admitted. “And I understand this might be hard to process. If you have any questions…”
“No,” Ciri interrupted, pulling her hands free. “Can I get my stuff? I just want to go home.”
Yennefer exchanged a glance with Triss, seeing the same worry mirrored in her eyes.
“Of course,” she said softly, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Go ahead and pack.”
Once Ciri left the kitchen, Yennefer stayed seated, as if the weight of the moment had drained the strength from her limbs. She looked at Triss, and the heaviness of the situation hung between them like a dense fog.
“I’m sorry, Triss,” she said quietly.
“You don’t have to be,” Triss replied, stepping closer but stopping just short of reaching her. “No one said this would be easy.”
“No one said it would feel this hopeless either,” Yennefer muttered, running a hand through her hair.
They heard footsteps as Ciri returned from the bedroom, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Determination was etched across her young face. The same expression Yennefer had worn so often herself.
“Ready?” Yennefer asked, standing up.
Ciri nodded, still not meeting their eyes.
At the door, Yennefer hesitated.
“I’ll text you later,” she told.
“I’ll be waiting,” Triss said, offering a small, tired smile.
Ciri had already stepped into the hallway, Pontar following silently at her heels. Yennefer reached out and brushed her fingers over Triss’s hand—a fleeting gesture, soft and hesitant. Not an escape, just… the most she could give at the moment.
“Yennefer…” Triss began, but Yennefer shook her head.
“Later,” she whispered. “Right now, I need to take care of Ciri.”
Triss nodded with quiet understanding.
“See you soon,” she said as Yennefer closed the door behind her.
In the hallway, Ciri stood with her head lowered. They said nothing. Together, they walked to the car. Two figures swallowed by the silence of early morning, both carrying the weight of an uncertain future.
Tiny raindrops tapped against the windows as they drove toward home. The wipers moved in a steady rhythm, smearing the world into shifting watercolor. Yennefer glanced at the rearview mirror from time to time, but Ciri stubbornly stared out the side window, one hand stroking Pontar, whose head rested on her lap.
The silence between them grew heavier with each passing minute, each mile.
“Sweetheart,” Yennefer said finally as they stopped at a red light. “Can we talk?”
Ciri shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the window.
“I know all of this is hard for you,” Yennefer continued, trying to catch her daughter’s gaze in the mirror. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Who died?” Ciri asked suddenly, looking directly at her reflection.
Yennefer sighed and tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“A rescuer I used to work with. A long time ago.”
“And you have to leave your job because of him?”
“No, not because of him.” Yennefer pulled forward as the light turned green. “Because of his friend. Rience.”
“But why? What happened?”
Yennefer paused, unsure how much a child should hear. But Ciri had always been more mature than her peers. She always demanded the truth.
“I reported that rescuer once,” she said finally. “He was mistreating his dog. He lost his job. A few months later, he died in the mountains. Rience blames me for it.”
“But it wasn’t your fault,” Ciri said, frowning. “He hurt the dog.”
“Yes, but grief and anger aren’t always rational, Ciri.”
They drove in silence for a while, both processing the weight of that truth.
“What about Triss? Why her?” Ciri asked at last, her voice carried a hint of accusation. “I always thought… And now suddenly… it’s a woman?”
Yennefer stopped at another red light and turned slightly to face her daughter better.
“It’s not ‘suddenly,’ Ciri,” she said softly. “I’ve liked Triss for a long time. But only now… only now did I have the courage to admit it. To myself. And to her.”
“Did you hide it from me on purpose?” Ciri looked at her with a mix of hurt and confusion.
“No,” Yennefer said. “There wasn’t anything to hide. It’s really new. It only started a few days ago.”
“When Pontar go missing?”
“Yes.” Yennefer nodded. “Triss helped me through that. She was there when I needed her.”
Ciri was quiet for a while, thinking it through.
“Do you really… like girls?” Ciri was clearly trying to wrap her head around it.
“I like Triss,” Yennefer replied honestly. “I don't know if it's about whether she's a boy or a girl. Now it's about the person.”
“Oh.” Ciri was quiet again. “That’s weird. But… okay.”
Yennefer felt something in her chest loosen. She hadn’t realized how much she feared her daughter’s reaction.
“Ciri, this doesn’t change anything between us. Or between you and Triss. She’ll still be your friend, if you want her to be.”
“And what if I don’t want that?”
The question left Yennefer uncertain. She glanced in the mirror again, trying to read her daughter’s expression.
“Then we’ll respect that,” she said after a pause. “But give her a chance, okay? She really cares about you.”
Silence fell again, broken only by the patter of rain on the windows and the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers.
“I’m scared,” Ciri whispered. “Everything’s changing, your job, Triss… What’s next?”
At the next red light, Yennefer reached back and placed a hand on her daughter’s knee.
“I know, sweetie. I’m scared too. But you’re the most important thing in the world to me. That hasn’t changed and never will.”
Ciri nodded, blinking fast. Pontar shifted just enough to nuzzle her hand.
“What will you do now?” she asked
“I’ll find something new,” Yennefer said, “Maybe it’s even for the best. I’ll have more time for you.”
“I don’t want you to be sad,” Ciri whispered, her voice still trembling with emotion.
Yennefer felt a sharp pang in her chest at her daughter’s concern.
“I won’t be. As long as I have you.”
Notes:
The song Ciri played was “Routine” by Steven Wilson. If you want to really feel the sadness, I highly recommend watching it with the music video.
Chapter 23
Notes:
It’s almost the end… and I’m not ready to say goodbye to them yet. It’s such a strange feeling—I honestly didn’t expect it. 😢
There are still two chapters left, but I already want to thank all of you who are reading and sticking with this story. Go check out the new chapter and let me know what you think! 💙💜
Chapter Text
Yennefer paced the apartment carefully, a mug of coffee cradled in her hand. From his spot on the dog bed, Pontar watched her with quiet, steady eyes, tracking every restless movement.
She felt trapped again. Caged. Closed in without an exit, splintered on the inside. Furious and hollow all at once.
She had a week to make her decision, though there was nothing to decide. Either she resigned willingly, or they’d fire her—using those photos from her confrontation with Rience to ruin not just her career but her name. The images were framed deliberately, showing her as the aggressor, erasing his harassment, his stalking, and his threats.
They could hurt Ciri, too. Make her a target, a joke, someone to point at and whisper about. Yennefer might’ve handled it all if she were alone, with nothing left to lose. But she wasn’t. And so, despite the suffocating sense of injustice, despite knowing she’d done nothing wrong, she understood that leaving on her own terms was the only way to preserve even a shred of control. It would look better. Cleaner.
Geralt had taken Ciri with him after a short, to-the-point conversation. He’d been angry, furious she hadn’t told him something was wrong. Yennefer had called Triss, needing to hear her voice, but ended the call quickly. Something in her couldn’t bear gentleness. Couldn’t accept the softness Triss would offer. Not yet.
“I’ll handle it,” she’d said. Words that tasted bitter even as she spoke them. There was nothing to handle. The path was already drawn. All she could do now was walk it.
She spent the weekend alone, fighting herself, fighting the storm inside her. She fought it mostly in her head, knowing she was already defeated. But the fight mattered. It was the only way to bleed out the anger, the pain, the grief. In the afternoon, she stared at the blank resignation letter on her laptop screen. The cursor blinked, a silent provocation, waiting for words she couldn’t yet force herself to write.
Ten years of service. Thousands of volunteer hours, training, certifications, risking her life to save others. A decade spent finding meaning in the most demanding conditions. It would all be erased—because one man couldn’t handle grief.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, then dropped. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.
Instead, she drove out to the trails where she used to run with Pontar. She picked a short, familiar route. The dog stayed close, still cautious after his injury, but walking more evenly now. His pace was slower, but she didn’t mind. What unsettled her more was the quiet ache in her chest—the sense that this was goodbye.
That night, she dreamed she was trapped in a narrow cave, water rising around her, a radio crackling unintelligibly. She woke with a gasp, reaching instinctively for her phone, as if expecting an emergency call. The habit was so deeply rooted, it took seconds for reality to catch up.
There would be no more calls. No more emergencies demanding her skill, her instinct, her courage. No more sudden changes in plans because someone needed saving.
On Monday, she returned from a check-up with Shani. The brace was off, though she was told to wear it during stressful activity. Rehab would start, but Shani couldn’t promise Pontar would pass the fitness tests for service again. What if he didn’t make it back? What would Yennefer do then?
What choices did she really have left?
She ran laps behind the house until her lungs burned, and her clothes clung to her in sweat-soaked layers. Physical strain was the only thing that dulled the fury—this low, helpless rage at the unfairness of it all. Her anxiety had hardened into anger. Again.
Pontar was a convenient excuse. Too convenient. And that annoyed her. Needing an excuse, a cover story. How could she lie to the team?
“I could fight this,” she told Triss over the phone that evening. Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true.
“You could,” Triss said gently, never patronizing. “But at what cost?”
The cost was clear: public disgrace, drawn-out legal battles, and worst of all—Ciri’s safety.
“It’s not fair,” Yennefer muttered, hating how childish it sounded.
“No. It’s not,” Triss agreed. “It’s cruel and wrong. But you’re doing the right thing. For Ciri. For yourself, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”
That night, Yennefer sat on the back porch wrapped in a blanket, watching the stars emerge one by one. Pontar’s head rested on her lap, grounding her as her thoughts spiraled. She knew what she had to do. She’d known since Philippa called her in. Maybe even before that—maybe ever since Rience confronted her by the car.
But knowing was different from accepting.
Who was she without her work? Who was Yennefer Vengerberg, if not a mountain rescuer? She’d promised the world—and herself—that she would save others in return for having once been saved.
The next morning, she woke up with a strange sense of calm. Not acceptance—not quite—but a kind of clarity that had been missing from the chaos of the previous days. She took a shower, dressed with unusual care, and made herself a proper breakfast, performing each action deliberately, as if the ritual itself grounded her.
Then she sat down at her laptop and wrote the resignation letter. Simple. Professional. No trace of the circumstances that had forced her hand. She wouldn’t give Rience the satisfaction of knowing how deeply this had wounded her. She’d held her ground in hopeless situations before—why should this be any different?
Before she could second-guess herself, she printed the letter, signed it, and slid it into an envelope. The finality of the act hung heavy in the air, but the emotional collapse she’d expected never came. Instead, she felt strangely lighter. As though making the decision—even if it hadn’t really been a choice—had lifted an invisible weight off her shoulders.
She texted Triss:
'It’s done. I’m heading in to deliver it.'
The reply came almost immediately: I’m still with you. And I’m proud of you. Call me after?
Proud wasn’t the word Yennefer would have chosen. There was no pride in being forced out, in surrendering to threats. And yet somehow, Triss’s message quieted something anxious inside her.
She called Philippa—knowing she’d be at the station—to give her a heads-up. She hoped they could arrange the team meeting right away. The day was bright, not hot, but warm for October. A golden autumn afternoon. She checked the weekend forecast. It looked even better. An idea sparked. She felt energy stir within her again.
The drive up to the station was one her body knew by instinct. Every curve, every turn, every shift of speed. It had driven this path a thousand times. She parked in her usual spot, grabbed an empty gym bag, and stepped out. Pontar remained in the car, watching her intently from the back seat as she straightened her shoulders and headed toward the building. She’d thought about bringing him so he could say goodbye to the team, but he still reacted to the scent of Rience in the building. She didn’t want to stress him further. They’d say goodbye in their time—she knew they would. Besides, she didn’t want to linger. Having the dog waiting in the car was a perfect excuse not to stay long.
Inside, the usual commotion of daily operations buzzed around her. The envelope in her hand felt like it was burning through her skin. She moved like a ghost, hyper-aware of every step. She peeked into the duty room.
“Yennefer!” Crach greeted her with a smile, though it was more of a wince than anything.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked, frowning, reading more from his face than his words.
“I know. Philippa told me. I’m sorry, Yen.”
She studied him for a moment, biting her lower lip.
“May I ask you something, Crach? A last favor…”
“Not a last one,” he said firmly. “Don’t pretend you’re not one of us.”
“Never,” she said quickly. “But I want to say goodbye properly. The weekend’s supposed to be warm, could we do a bonfire at your place, like always?”
“Of course! Seren was just asking when we’re doing our rescue night again. This year’s flying by too fast…”
“Could be this weekend? I’ll ask around, once I talk to Philippa.”
“Absolutely. I’ll message Seren and take care of it. You won’t have to worry about a thging.”
“To be honest, I’d rather have something to keep me busy.”
“Then bring lots of beer,” he grinned. “But seriously, how are you holding up?”
“Terrible. But I’ll survive.”
“If you need anything, we’re here.”
“Thanks,” she said, lifting the envelope as she stepped away.
Philippa’s office was just next door. Yennefer could hear her voice through the wall and knew undoubtedly that she was expected. She knocked once, then opened the door before she had time to hesitate.
“Come in.”
Philippa looked up from her monitor. Her face was, as always, unreadable. No surprise. No questions.
“I’d like to hand in my resignation,” Yennefer said calmly, placing the envelope on the desk. “Effective immediately.”
Philippa didn’t reach for it right away. For a moment, she just studied Yennefer’s face—not with scrutiny, not with pity. More like she was looking for confirmation that there really was nothing left to be done.
“All right,” she said at last, sliding the envelope closer. “I’m glad we’re doing this quietly. Without a scene.”
“You’re glad?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow. “A clean way to get rid of the problem?”
“It’s politics, Yennefer. And you know as well as I do that keeping this quiet protects more people.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it had to end like this.”
“But it did,” Philippa replied. “And I’m relieved you made the call yourself. I didn’t want to be forced into taking that step.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Their eyes locked across the desk.
“What about Rience?” Yennefer asked. “Is he still around?”
“He’s fulfilled his volunteer hours, so I’m not sure if he’ll show up again. We spoke on the phone. The matter was supposed to be closed.”
“It’s not.”
“That’s why I’m calling him in on Friday. I’ll speak with him in person.” Philippa folded her hands atop the desk. “If you want to be there… I can arrange that.”
“I don’t want to see him. I won’t give him that satisfaction.”
Philippa nodded. She hadn’t expected any other answer.
“Are you taking your gear?” Her gaze flicked toward the bag.
“If I can. And I’d like to speak with the team.”
“Good. You should.” Philippa leaned back slightly. “How much do you intend to tell them?”
“As much as I think is safe.”
“So you know where the line is?” she asked, though there was an edge of uncertainty in her voice. She couldn’t control what Yennefer would say—and that had to be unsettling for her. “Keep it to personal reasons. You have a child. An injured dog. That’s enough.”
“It’s also true.”
Yennefer had already turned toward the door when she hesitated. She glanced back over her shoulder.
“We’re doing a bonfire on Sunday. At Crach’s place. I’d like you to come.”
Philippa looked genuinely surprised.
“Me? After all this?”
“The team needs to trust you. If you don’t show up, they’ll think this broke you. And you’re not someone who breaks. Who fails. Right, Philippa?”
For a split second, something flickered in Philippa’s eyes.
“I’m not,” she said quietly. “I’ll think about it.”
Yennefer nodded and moved toward the door.
“Yennefer,” Philippa called out just before she left.
“Don’t tell me to take care of myself,” Yennefer shot back without turning around. “I know what I’m doing.”
The door clicked softly shut behind her. It felt like checking off another item on a list. She had done what needed to be done. Now came the hardest part.
Saying goodbye to the team had been worse, even though they had made it as easy as they could. They gathered in the break room, talked for a while. No unnecessary questions. She told them she had to leave—personal reasons, Ciri, Pontar. They nodded. They understood.
They still joked. They were still themselves. Sarcasm and dark humor, the best they could offer her in that moment.
They picked up the idea of the bonfire at Crach’s without hesitation. There was no talk of an official farewell. Because she wasn’t vanishing from the face of the earth. She was still one of them. Just not on the schedule anymore.
The goodbyes were short—smiles, a few claps on the back, a couple of murmured 'take cares'. She knew they’d done it on purpose. Not let her fall apart.
As she stepped out of the break room, it felt like something essential had just been severed. But it had been done cleanly, quietly. Just as she had wanted.
Only her locker remained. She went to the changing room, empty as always. Yennefer looked at her locker and the bench, remembering sitting there a thousand times—tired, angry, content. She remembered sitting there with Triss, telling her about the accident. The first time Triss had called her a friend. So much had changed.
She moved methodically, pulling out her personal items, leaving behind the unit-issued gear. Years of service reduced to the contents of a single small gym bag.
When she closed the locker, the finality of the sound echoed through the empty space. She pressed her palm flat against the cool metal door, letting herself feel one brief moment of grief for what she was leaving behind.
“Yennefer!”
She turned, hearing someone enter. Syanna stood in the doorway, dressed in uniform, her hair pulled into a careless ponytail, face tense with emotions she could barely hold in check. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“You really have to go?” she asked without preamble.
Yennefer let the bag fall to the floor and leaned back against the locker, looking at the younger rescuer calmly. She felt a strange warmth at the thought that someone else felt the same about this. That someone was angry she was leaving. It was the right emotion. One she understood.
“Not this time,” she said quietly. “If there were a way out, I’d have found it.”
Syanna’s hands clenched into fists, her composure visibly unraveling. She had always been tough, analytical, quick on her feet—and now it looked like every one of those traits had failed her. Yennefer imagined she must have looked the same.
“Maybe,” she started, her voice shaking. “Maybe we can still do something? Help somehow? We all know it’s not fair that… that you don’t want this.”
“I don’t,” Yennefer admitted. “But sometimes… sometimes it’s not about what we want. It’s about what we have to do.”
She tried to be gentle, but she could see that every answer just drove Syanna further into the corner, where no good choice remained.
“It’s the reasonable thing, Syanna,” Yennefer added softly. “And reason is the last thing they’ve left me here.”
Syanna bit her lip.
“You can’t just leave…”
Yennefer stepped closer, stopping at arm’s length.
“I can. You have to know when to let go.” Her voice was calm, gentle. “Besides… now it’s your turn to step up.”
The younger woman looked at her, eyes full of hurt and something else—fear of losing not just a mentor but her point of reference.
“I don’t want to replace you,” she whispered. “I wanted to work with you, not…”
Yennefer gave her a faint smile.
She reached into her bag, resting by the locker, and pulled out a small case containing four carabiners—solid, top-quality gear she always kept as backup, though she’d never had to use them.
For a moment, she looked down at them in her hand, then extended it toward Syanna.
“Want them?” she asked quietly. “I won’t be needing them anymore.”
“Thanks,” Syanna said, accepting the unexpected gift with careful hands.
“Take care of yourself. And don’t let those alpha-male types walk all over you.”
Syanna looked at the case, then at Yennefer. Her fingers trembled slightly, so she curled them tighter around the fabric.
“I will,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. For everything, Yennefer.”
Yennefer simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They stood in silence for a moment longer.
Then Syanna, overcoming her final hesitation, stepped forward and hugged her quickly, firmly, like someone who didn’t have the words but needed to say something all the same.
Yennefer returned the embrace, feeling the weight of the past few days lift—if only a little.
“See you at the bonfire,” she said eventually, pulling away first.
“See you,” Syanna echoed, still clutching the carabiner case.
As Yennefer walked toward the door, she felt it wasn’t a goodbye. It was a passing of the torch, quiet, but full of meaning.
This was how an era should end.
By the time she reached her car, she was utterly drained but strangely steady. The hardest part was behind her. The decision had been made, the letter delivered, her things packed. The chapter was officially closed.
Pontar greeted her with an enthusiastic wag of his tail, blissfully unaware of the weight of the moment. She scratched behind his ears, drawing comfort from the uncomplicated truth of his affection.
“It’s going to be okay,” she told him and surprised herself by believing it.
As she drove home, the mountains rose around her, unchanged by her personal earthquake. They would still be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the year after that. She might not climb their heights as a rescuer anymore, but they would remain a part of her. Just as she would remain a part of their story.
The house was bright. Too bright, considering what was happening inside her. Sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows, stretching in warm streaks across the floor. The world kept turning as if nothing had happened.
Yennefer walked slowly through the hallway, leaving her bag by the door. She took off her shoes, then her sweater, then her watch. Each item was placed down with care, as if the external order might somehow restore the mess inside her.
In the bathroom, she filled the tub with warm—almost hot—water. It carried no particular scent; she hadn’t added oils or salts. She just wanted silence and warmth. She just wanted to disappear for a little while.
She slipped into the water slowly, as if testing whether her body would respond at all. She lay still, her head resting against the cold ceramic, listening to the sound of her own breath.
She missed it.
Not just the uniform. Not the mission.
She missed Triss. Or, maybe, mostly Triss.
Their contact in the past few days had been sparse, fragmented. A few words. Nothing more. But she knew her well enough now to guess that Triss was probably coming undone inside. That she wanted to know everything. That she’d probably played out dozens of conversations in her mind, or written and erased just as many messages before hitting send.
Yennefer closed her eyes.
She wanted her here. Not for the words. Just for her voice. That tone of hers, warm and soft—yet with steel beneath it, when needed.
She was grateful to have someone like that in her life.
Even if it was a woman. Even if she'd turned her world upside down.
Being with Triss had changed something fundamental. It had opened doors Yennefer hadn’t even seen before—and even if she had, she wouldn’t have dared walk through them. Out of fear. Out of habit. Out of deeply rooted beliefs.
But now… now it just felt right. Natural.
And in its own way—it was wonderful.
More emotional than anything she had experienced before. Deeper. Truer. Sometimes terrifying, but beautiful. Pure.
The water had begun to cool. She washed and tried to relax a little longer, allowing herself a small moment of pleasure in the simple act of self-care. Then she lingered a bit more, but the chill of the water became unpleasant. With a sigh, she reluctantly rose from the tub.
Yennefer dried off and reached for her phone. A message from Triss was waiting for her, as if conjured by thought.
'Do you feel like talking? Or maybe just coming over?'
She smiled to herself.
There was no pressure. No conditions. Triss was simply there.
As always.
She pulled on a soft graphite sweater, black trousers, left her hair down—wanting to see again how much Triss liked it that way.
She looked in the mirror. She didn’t look like a woman falling apart, though the fatigue in her face was difficult to hide. Triss would see it, no doubt—but she wanted to be seen by her.
She picked up her keys.
This time, she wasn’t going to Triss for help. Just for closeness. Because she was ready.
Yennefer smiled faintly as she turned the car in the direction of Triss’s apartment.
Yennefer almost chose the stairs over the elevator, craving the grounding effort of physical strain—but she glanced at Pontar, walking beside her. His leg, now without the brace, was holding up well, but she didn’t want to push him too hard. Elevator, then.
Her thoughts were still a chaotic mess of grief, anger, and some strange sense of relief by the time she reached Triss’s door. She hesitated before knocking, but the door opened suddenly.
Triss stood there in soft loungewear and a light-colored shirt, her hair loose over her shoulders. Her eyes immediately sought Yennefer’s, scanning for traces of her emotional state.
“I saw you pull up,” she said gently, stepping aside to let her in.
Yennefer walked past her, with Pontar dutifully padding at her heels. The apartment smelled of herbal tea and fruity candles—Triss’s favorites. It was so different from the sterile scent of the rescue unit, from the empty stillness of her own home.
Triss closed the door and turned to face her. Neither of them spoke for a long moment; the weight of the day hung between them like a fog. Then Triss simply opened her arms—not a demand, but an invitation.
Yennefer stepped into the embrace, letting herself sink into it. She buried her face in the crook of Triss’s neck, breathing in the familiar raspberry scent as Triss’s arms closed gently around her. They stood there in the entryway, Yennefer grounding herself in the steady rhythm of the heart beating close to hers.
“It’s done,” she said at last, her voice muffled against Triss’s sweater.
“I know,” Triss murmured, one hand sliding up to gently stroke her hair. “I’m so sorry, Yen.”
“Ten years, gone in a week,” Yennefer said bitterly.
“Not gone,” Triss corrected softly. “That experience, that knowledge... it’s still yours. No one can take that away.”
Yennefer nodded, though the words barely touched the sadness inside her. “What the hell to do with myself?”
“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” Triss said “Give yourself time to grieve first.”
“I don’t have the luxury of time. Bills don’t wait for grief to pass.”
“You’ll manage. What matters is that you’re both safe, Yen. And you’re not alone in this.”
Yennefer stepped back slightly, needing space to reassert control.
Triss let her go immediately, but kept one hand gently resting on her shoulder. She seemed to intuitively understand exactly what Yennefer needed.
“Tea?” Triss offered, nodding toward the kitchen. “Or something stronger?”
“Tea’s fine,” Yennefer replied, grateful for the mundane question.
They moved into the kitchen, where Triss busied herself with mugs and the electric kettle, while Yennefer sat at the small table. Pontar curled up near the balcony door, as if he already had a favorite spot in Triss’s apartment.
“How did the others take it? Did you tell them?” Triss asked, placing a steaming mug in front of Yennefer.
“Better than I expected,” Yennefer admitted, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. “They didn’t even ask for details.”
“They probably know you’ll tell them exactly as much as you want to,” Triss said with a faint smile.
“Maybe,” Yennefer agreed.
“And Philippa?” Triss sat down beside her, keeping a respectful bit of space.
“Nothing. Politics is a bitch.”
“True.”
Politics. The word encompassed so much—a web of old connections protecting Rience, the fear of bad press outweighing justice, calculated decisions that prioritized image over truth.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their tea. The only sound came from Pontar shifting in his sleep with the occasional sigh. Yennefer felt the tension slowly draining from her shoulders, her breath syncing with the calm rhythm of Triss.
“I always had a plan, Triss,” Yennefer said suddenly, hearing the frustration in her own voice. “Every single day since the accident, I knew exactly what I was doing, and why.”
“And now?”
“Now it feels like I’m in free fall.” The metaphor hit true. She felt the same helpless sensation, like falling through empty air, the ground rushing up too fast.
“I’ve got you,” Triss said simply.
The words were ordinary, even plain, but the way she said them—with such quiet certainty, like it was the most unquestionable truth in the universe—left Yennefer breathless.
She looked up and met Triss’s eyes. What she saw there wasn’t pity or worry, but something steadier, deeper. Something that made free fall feel less like a crash and more like a leap of faith.
“Come,” Triss said, standing and picking up her mug. “The couch is more comfortable.”
Yennefer followed her into the living room, where they sat down on the soft couch that dominated the space. Triss settled first, tucking her legs beneath her, and Yennefer hesitated only briefly before choosing a spot closer than strictly necessary.
She needed the closeness today, a physical reminder that she wasn’t alone in this upheaval. Triss seemed to sense it, shifting just enough, so their arms touched, creating a small, seemingly casual point of connection.
“I emptied my locker,” Yennefer said after a moment. “It all fit into one bag.”
Triss made a quiet sound of understanding but didn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes. It was one of the things Yennefer appreciated most about her.
“I’m organizing a gathering,” Yennefer continued. “At Crach’s this weekend. A goodbye, I guess, though I’m not sure what to call it.”
“A transition,” Triss offered. “Not an ending.”
Yennefer turned the word over in her mind. A transition. It suggested continuation, evolution rather than finality. She wasn’t sure if she believed in that yet. But she wanted to.
“Will you come?” she asked, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice.
Triss looked at her, softly startled by the question.
“Of course I’ll come. If you want me there.”
“I do,” Yennefer said without hesitation. “I want you… with me.”
Something in Triss’s expression changed at those words, a quiet joy that transformed her features in a way that made Yennefer’s heart beat faster. She reached up, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind Triss’s ear, letting her fingers linger gently against her cheek.
“You’ve been my lifeline through all of this,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it without you.”
“You would’ve found a way,” Triss said with absolute certainty. “You’re the strongest person I know, Yennefer. But I’m glad you didn’t have to go through it alone.”
The simple belief in her resilience, paired with the acknowledgment that she needed support, landed exactly where it hurt most. Yennefer felt tears prick at her eyes. She looked away, blinking quickly.
“Hey,” Triss said gently, her hand lifting to cup Yennefer’s face, turning it softly back toward her. “It’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling right now.”
“I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” Yennefer admitted, her voice rough. “Anger. Relief. Terror. Confusion.”
“All of that is valid,” Triss assured her. “Your life got turned upside down by someone’s vendetta. You’re allowed to be a mess.”
A mess. The word should’ve offended her; she was never a mess. She was composed. Controlled. But instead of anger, something inside her loosened. A small laugh escaped her, hollow but real.
“I am a mess, aren’t I?” she said, wiping at her eyes.
“A beautiful mess,” Triss corrected, her thumb brushing softly along Yennefer’s cheek. “And entirely entitled to it.”
Yennefer pressed her lips together, struggling with something raw and jagged inside.
“You know what’s the worst part?” she said finally, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “It all happened… around me. I was backed into a corner. I didn’t even get a chance to try and…”
Her voice broke. She looked away again, fists clenched tightly at her sides.
“Yennefer…”
“That’s what makes me angry, Triss,” Yennefer burst out, the words tearing free like a scream held in for too long. “That’s what I can’t get past. It hurts—that I didn’t get to do anything. I didn’t have time to act. They didn’t give me the chance to move, and I…”
Her voice crumbled completely. Her shoulders trembled, as if all her fury had suddenly transformed into helpless grief.
Triss pulled her into a firm embrace, holding her close.
“I know,” she whispered into Yennefer’s hair. “I know how much you need control. How deeply you need to fight for what’s yours.”
The tears came then. Silent and unstoppable.
Yennefer didn’t fight them. She didn’t try to hide. She let them fall while Triss held her tighter, cradling her against her chest as if she were something precious, something worth protecting.
It should have felt humiliating—this was the second time recently she had broken like this in front of her. And yet, it felt like the most natural thing in the world: to let Triss hold her as she mourned a lost career, an identity stripped away, a certainty that had vanished like morning mist.
When the tears finally ebbed, Yennefer didn’t pull away right away. She stayed where she was, her head on Triss’s shoulder, Triss’s arms still around her, their bodies fitted together as if made for this exact shape.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Two small words, wholly inadequate but deeply meant.
“Always,” Triss replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”
Yennefer lifted her head then, needing to see Triss’s face, to read the truth of those words in her eyes. What she found there was openness, quiet depth of feeling that mirrored the emotions she hadn’t yet dared to speak aloud.
“What I need right now,” she said slowly, “is you.”
She watched as understanding dawned in Triss’s eyes. Not just of the words, but of the weight behind them. Triss’s answer came in the form of a kiss, soft and deliberate, without urgency or demand.
When they finally parted, Yennefer felt more stable than she had all day. Perhaps all week. The world beneath her feet no longer shifted, and the future seemed a little less daunting.
“I’ll make us some dinner,” Triss said gently, “and then… stay the night.”
“I will,” Yennefer replied.
As evening deepened, they moved from the living room into a space even more comforting. Yennefer had taken a quick shower and changed into the sleepwear Triss had laid out for her. Now Triss was in the bathroom, and Yennefer sat at the edge of the bed, taking in the room. The soft glow of two bedside lamps casts a gentle light over the space, transforming the ordinary into something almost enchanted. The curtains were drawn—the world outside sealed off—leaving them in a nest of pillows and hush. It was hard not to think of Triss’s bedroom as something inherently safe.
Yennefer sat waiting, slightly hesitant to move through Triss’s space without her. Her shoulders remained tight, a physical echo of a day that had shifted the course of her life. She rolled her neck, wincing at the stiffness.
“Let me help,” Triss said as she entered the bedroom, noticing the movement. She disappeared briefly and returned with an elegant bottle containing golden liquid, its black and pink label catching the light. Wrapped in a soft beige robe, she said, “Take off your shirt.”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in something that almost resembled a smile. “We’re bold tonight, huh?”
“For a massage,” Triss clarified with a slightly sheepish smile. “Though I can’t promise where that might lead.”
The lightness in her voice was exactly what Yennefer needed. She reached for the hem of her shirt and, hesitating only for a moment, pulled it over her head, suddenly feeling a bit too bare despite having her back turned to Triss.
“Can we leave just one light on?”
“Of course.” Triss smiled.
Yennefer leaned over and switched off the lamp on her side of the bed, leaving only the soft glow from Triss’s nightstand. The remaining light spilled across the bedding and cast long, calming shadows across her back.
Yennefer moved deeper onto the bed and sat near the center, crossing her legs loosely, then uncrossing them, searching for a position that didn’t feel defensive. Triss joined her a moment later, kneeling behind her. Her thighs settled on either side of Yennefer's hips. Not quite straddling, more like bracketing her gently, creating closeness without pressure.
Yennefer heard the soft click of a cap, followed by the unmistakable scent of raspberries, deeper than Triss’s usual perfume.
“Raspberry oil?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“Seemed appropriate,” Triss replied, warming the oil between her hands. “Now look straight ahead and try to relax.”
Triss moved closer again, and Yennefer closed her eyes as warm hands came to rest on her shoulders. The first touch was feather-light, so gentle that Yennefer suspected Triss might be more nervous than she appeared. But then her thumbs found the base of Yennefer’s neck and began to knead, slow and steady, wordless and sure.
The pressure was perfect. Firm enough to chase out the tension, never straying into pain. Yennefer felt herself melt under those skilled hands, her tight muscles gradually giving way. The scent of raspberries wrapped around her, intensifying with the heat generated by Triss’s movements. It mingled with the natural warmth of their bodies, becoming something new—something heady, and utterly intoxicating.
Triss worked slowly, moving from Yennefer’s neck to her shoulders, then down along her spine. The oil let her hands glide smoothly, leaving behind a trail of warmth that sank deep into Yennefer’s tired muscles. Each stroke seemed to lift away a piece of the day’s weight, replacing it with a spreading calm.
“How did I get so lucky?” Triss murmured, her voice soft in the quiet room.
Yennefer made a small, inarticulate sound of confusion, too relaxed to form actual words.
“That I have you,” Triss clarified, her hands still moving in soothing patterns. “I never thought you’d see me as anything more than a reporter. Maybe a friend, if I was especially charming.”
The confession pulled Yennefer from her near-trance. She opened her eyes, though she didn’t turn around.
“I noticed you from the start,” she admitted. “It was impossible not to.”
“You hid it well,” Triss said, a smile in her voice. Her hands became gentler now, no longer massaging muscles. She was simply touching her, as if learning every inch of her skin with her fingers.
“So I thought,” Yennefer murmured. “When did you realize?”
“I had a suspicion when you drove all the way up the mountain just to pick me up after my fall. You were… different. More intense than the situation really called for.” Triss’s thumbs traced slow circles at the base of Yennefer’s skull, sending shivers down her spine. She shifted closer, their legs brushing, her breath spilling warmth across Yennefer’s skin. “But I was almost sure when you got so worked up about that avalanche dog article.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” Yennefer said automatically.
Triss’s laugh was soft and knowing. “Of course not. You just approached it with a level of emotional investment completely unlike you.”
“Your freckles were distracting,” Yennefer mumbled, earning another laugh. “Besides, I was genuinely concerned…”
“For me or for yourself?”
“For both.”
Triss slid her hands lower, gliding along Yennefer’s sides and wrapping gently around her stomach. Her nose brushed the skin of Yennefer’s shoulder—slowly, always so slowly. Maddeningly slowly. A shiver ran through Yennefer as Triss kept touching her, unhurried and deliberate.
“I kind of tested you in the car afterward,” Triss admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of embarrassed mischief.
Yennefer turned her head slightly, catching the edge of Triss’s profile.
“Did you?”
“Yes. Sorry about that,” Triss said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. “But I felt this tiny seed of hope starting to grow, and I… had to check.”
Now her words were punctuated by featherlight kisses along the back of Yennefer’s neck. Each one sent a wave of tingling warmth down her spine.
“I thought I was going to lose my mind in that car,” Yennefer confessed, tilting her head back slightly, her voice dropping lower. “You left your scent everywhere.”
“And then you had to escape all the way to the sea, huh?” Triss teased, her lips brushing a sensitive spot just beneath Yennefer’s ear.
“Oh, and that damned photo…” Yennefer added, remembering the accidental glimpse of a bedroom that had changed everything.
“You know I still have it,” Triss murmured against her skin, as her hands slid dangerously low along Yennefer’s thighs. “It’s my favorite.”
“You know that was actually an accident.”
“Let’s say I believe you,” Triss replied, her smile audible in her voice.
“Really, Triss.”
“Just like when you helped me with that article?”
Yennefer hesitated and then admitted, “Yes.”
“I like accidents like that,” Triss whispered, her lips continuing their delicate exploration of Yennefer’s neck and shoulder.
Yennefer leaned back into the embrace, surrendering to the sense of rightness that always flooded her when they touched. This was where she belonged. After a day of upheaval and loss, that certainty felt like solid ground beneath her feet.
Something shifted in the air between them. Triss’s touch, once soothing, now burned. Every brush of her fingers left a trail of heat that sank deeper than just the surface.
Yennefer turned slowly, their eyes meeting in the dim light. Triss froze, her hands still resting on Yennefer’s hips. The space between them had shrunk to a few inches, thick with tension.
“Triss…” Yennefer whispered.
She didn’t have to finish. Triss leaned in, their breaths mingling before their lips finally met. The kiss was awkward at first, given their position, but they adjusted, finding their way to each other—as they always somehow did.
Triss cradled Yennefer’s face with both hands, deepening the kiss, and Yennefer felt everything else melt away. The tension in her shoulders, the weight of the day, the fear of what came next—it all dissolved in the warmth of Triss’s lips, in the certainty of her touch.
When they parted, Yennefer found herself drowning in the depths of Triss’s eyes—blue, clear, and filled with something that stole the air from her lungs. Love. Open, inevitable, realer than anything else in her crumbling world.
“You know I’m in love with you?” she said simply, the words slipping out without planning or caution. They were just true—had always been true in some form—waiting to be recognized and released. When she had lost everything else, she could finally say it out loud.
Triss’s smile was radiant, changing her entire face. “You know I am too?”
Their lips met again, gentler this time. Then Yennefer shifted, turning fully into Triss’s arms, gently easing her down onto the mattress.
Their legs tangled easily, their hands finding familiar places.
“Make love to me,” Yennefer whispered against Triss’s lips, the words coming from somewhere deep within her soul. It was a request, but also more than that—a need, a desire, a trust so complete it stole her breath.
“Oh gods, Yennefer,” Triss breathed, her voice trembling with emotion. Her eyes were darker than usual.
In one gentle motion, Triss rolled them over, their bodies sinking into the soft mattress. Yennefer found herself on her back, gazing up at Triss, who hovered above her like a goddess bathed in the golden light of the lamp. The robe slipped from Triss’s shoulders, revealing the familiar constellation of freckles Yennefer adored. With one graceful motion, Triss shrugged it off and let it fall into the darkness behind her.
Yennefer didn’t wait. Her hands reached for the hem of Triss’s nightshirt, fingers trembling with urgency and want. She didn’t want any more barriers between them. She tugged the fabric upward, and Triss lifted her arms to help, with a grace that stole Yennefer’s breath.
All that remained was the soft light painting gold across their skin, the warmth of their bodies moving together in a rhythm they already knew, and that intoxicating scent of raspberries—now mingled with something deeper: desire, trust, love.
Triss reached for the blanket, pulling it over them both in a single motion, creating a cocoon of fabric and bare skin. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only her and Triss and the fire between them.
“I’ve got you,” Triss whispered, leaning in so close, Yennefer could feel her breath on her skin. The first kiss landed just below her ear.
Yennefer tilted her head back, exposing her neck, and felt the last of her defenses finally fall.
Last time, they had been careful, exploring. Now it was different, Triss moved with confidence, revisiting the places that had made Yennefer shiver before. Her hands were as magical, but it was her mouth that proved breathtaking—sure, warm, sending a tremor through Yennefer with every kiss.
There were no more questions between them, only quiet discovery. Finding what worked, what made Yennefer’s breath catch and her body arch toward her.
And once again, Yennefer let herself be completely passive. Completely given.
Triss kissed her, gently biting her lower lip. The kiss was deep, hungry, full of everything they hadn’t been able to say recently. Yennefer held her face, keeping her close like she might vanish.
As Triss moved lower, leaving kisses along her neck, her collarbones, Yennefer closed her eyes and let herself drift.
Her fists clenched the sheets as Triss removed the last piece of fabric between them and placed a kiss against her most sensitive place. And in that moment, she felt Triss’s hand find hers—fingers intertwining in that familiar, grounding hold.
“I’m here with you,” Triss whispered against her skin, pausing to place another soft kiss.
And Yennefer let go.
Not like last time, when she had to fight her own thoughts, her fear of losing control. This time, she fell straight into the arms of pleasure, knowing—absolutely knowing—that Triss would catch her.
The sighs and moans that escaped her no longer startled her. They belonged to Triss now. They were something Triss gave her. And she didn’t want to hide that.
Waves of raw pleasure took over her body. Triss carried her through it, always touching, always kissing. When Yennefer opened her eyes, she saw Triss above her—lips parted, eyes full of love and pride. And those beautiful, flushed cheeks.
“Mine,” Triss whispered, kissing her.
This time, the word in Triss’s mouth felt better than Yennefer ever thought it could.
She finally felt at home.
Yennefer shifted, intending to reverse their positions, but Triss was faster. Her hands caught Yennefer’s wrists and pinned them gently above her head. There was a fire in Triss’s eyes that Yennefer had never seen before—intense, almost predatory.
And instead of frightening her, the sight narrowed her world to a single point. To Triss. To that glint in her gaze, to the heat of her body above hers, to the absolute certainty that she would give herself over completely.
Triss leaned in, her lips brushing the delicate skin of Yennefer’s neck, while her hands still held her in place.
“I’m not done with you yet,” she whispered at her ear, her voice low and rich with promise. The words sent a wave of heat straight to Yennefer’s core, pulling a soft moan from her lips. “You asked me to make love to you, and I intend to do it exactly the way I feel.”
“Triss…” Her name slipped out, full of need.
“Shh, babe,” Triss murmured, her breath hot against Yennefer’s skin. “We have the whole night… and I’m just getting started.”
When Triss finally released her wrists, Yennefer didn’t move them. She lay still, utterly undone beneath the ocean-blue eyes above her, surrendering to this new version of Triss—confident, commanding, wildly wanting.
The world beyond this bed ceased to exist. There were no threats, no decisions, no fears — only touch, breath, and the woman above her.
She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this much, this deeply. And in that surrender, in that loss of control, she felt more like herself than she had in weeks.
It was terrifying.
It was liberating.
But she let herself be loved exactly as she had asked for.
Chapter 24
Notes:
Enjoy reading, and please let me know what you think. Your words truly mean the world to me. 🤍
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The October afternoon was surprisingly warm. Much sunnier than the weather forecast had predicted. It felt as if autumn had decided to gift them one last summer day. Golden light shimmered off the red and yellow leaves. A true golden autumn. Beautiful and warm. Yennefer stepped out of the car in just a T-shirt, no sweater or jacket needed. The sun on her arms felt good.
She had been waiting for this day, for its normalcy, for the simple joy of picking up Ciri and driving to Crach’s place for what had become their traditional bonfire. A little later in the season than usual, and carrying a bit more emotional weight than in years past.
Pontar stretched out on the back seat, his injured leg looking much better without the brace. They’d done gentle exercises that morning, working his ligaments. He had been patient, and in return, she’d given him a big treat.
A small ache tugged at her chest. He didn’t know that their work was over. That they wouldn’t be searching for people anymore or rushing out on rescue calls. She wondered if, in his own dog-like way, he would eventually sense it. Understand, somehow.
The plan for the day was simple. Pick up Ciri, swing by Triss’s place, then head to Crach’s property for an evening that promised to be exactly what she needed. Her bag sat in the trunk next to a crate of beer, some snacks, and — just in case — Pontar’s leg brace. She hoped they wouldn’t need it, but recent events had taught her the value of being ready for absolutely anything.
She tried not to think about Rience. About what he’d done, what he’d said, what he had wanted to do. The matter was handled, everyone believed that. But she knew she’d still be looking over her shoulder for the next few weeks. Maybe only after that would she be able to believe things were really as they should be. That her resignation hadn’t been for nothing.
When she pulled up in front of Geralt’s house, Ciri burst out the front door before Yennefer even had time to set the parking brake. Her daughter’s excitement was infectious. Yennefer stepped out of the car, feeling a smile rise to her face all on its own.
“Mom!” Ciri shouted, throwing her arms around her in a fierce hug. “I’ve been ready for an hour. Dad said you’d probably be late.”
“When have I ever been late?” Yennefer protested, smiling as she returned the hug.
Over Ciri’s shoulder, she spotted Geralt standing in the doorway on the porch. He raised a hand in a brief wave but didn’t come any closer, didn’t say a word. The gesture was polite enough, but the distance he kept said everything. He was still angry that she hadn’t told him about the stalking. About the danger that had crept so close. To both of them.
She understood his fury. As Ciri’s father, he had every right to be furious that she’d kept him in the dark about something that could have threatened their daughter’s safety. She would’ve been just as pissed if the roles were reversed.
She didn’t blame him. But she didn’t have the energy to fix it right now either. Some wounds needed time before they could heal properly. This was one of those things she’d deal with in the near future. But not yet.
“Ready to go?” she asked as Ciri climbed into the back seat.
“More than ready,” Ciri replied, stuffing her oversized backpack under her feet and immediately reaching for Pontar. “Oh, I missed you so much!” she said to the dog, who wagged his tail with cheerful vigor. “Cerys text me this morning. She’s helping Dad and Hjalmar get everything set up.”
As they pulled away, Yennefer glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of Geralt disappearing behind the door of his small house.
“So,” she said, eyes back on the road, “everything we talked about on the phone is still good? We’re picking up Triss. That’s okay with you?”
Ciri shifted in her seat in a way that was unmistakably nervous.
“Yeah. Of course. I like Triss. It’s just...” She trailed off, still focused on the dog.
“Just what?”
“I need to tell you something. And please don’t get mad or yell.”
Yennefer looked at her in the rearview mirror, keeping her voice calm.
“I’m not going to yell, Ciri. Did something happen?”
“I told Cerys. About you and Triss. About you two... you know. That you’re together.”
She hadn’t expected that. Yennefer bit the inside of her cheek and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as she processed the words. It was... strange. She didn’t know why it made her feel the way it did, but it did. She hadn’t wanted to rush anything public until she’d figured out her feelings. She had wanted the people closest to her to know first.
But at the same time, she understood why Ciri might have needed someone to talk to. Someone to help her make sense of a change this big in their family.
“Okay,” she said at last. “That’s... actually probably a good thing. If Cerys is someone you trust enough to talk to about this kind of stuff, then I’m glad you have her. That you have someone.”
Ciri visibly relaxed.
“Really? You’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad.” Yennefer smiled, catching her gaze in the mirror. “What did Cerys say?”
Ciri shrugged and snorted.
“She said it was ‘cute.’” She wrinkled her nose as she said the word, clearly finding her friend’s choice of vocabulary either gross or hilarious. Or both. It was hard to tell with eleven-year-olds.
“Cute?” Yennefer couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yeah. Like you’re characters from some romantic fairytale or something. But she also said you seem calmer when Triss is around. And that Triss is nice, so it’s probably not a bad thing.” Ciri spoke slowly, which meant she was still working it out in her head. “She said some random guy would probably be worse, and... I guess she had a point.”
A surprising wave of calm washed over Yennefer. Out of the mouths of children sometimes came unexpected wisdom.
“Cerys is a smart girl,” she said.
“I know. That’s why we’re friends. And talking to her helped me realize this could be... nice. You’ve been happier lately, Mom. I noticed it during the vacation.” Ciri paused, then added, with slightly too much dramatic flair, “But I draw the line at witnessing anything romantic. No kissing while I’m around. And definitely nothing more than kissing. Ugh. I don’t even want to think about that.”
Despite her words, Yennefer caught the teasing note beneath Ciri’s mock disgust. Her daughter was processing the change in her own way, and that was good. Even if it came with a need to set boundaries. Even if her initial reaction hadn’t been the smoothest.
“Noted,” Yennefer said solemnly. “No public displays of affection you might find revolting in your presence.”
“Good. Or I’ll just leave. I’ll walk off. With Pontar. He probably doesn’t want to see it either.”
The dog gave a soft huff, as he often did when he heard someone say his name. The tension eased, and both of them were laughing by the time they pulled up to Triss’s neighborhood. She was already outside, a backpack slung over her shoulder and a box of baked goods in her hands. She was wearing an oversized black T-shirt and a pair of black leggings with pink and blue tropical leaves. She looked... casual. Like herself. And yet something felt different.
“Oh no,” said Ciri as Triss approached the car and opened the door. “Black really isn’t your color.”
Triss slid into the seat beside Yennefer, glancing back at Ciri with a slightly sheepish look.
“I kind of feel the same,” she admitted. “But black felt right for a bonfire. Although... I’ll leave the all-black look to you two. You both pull it off way better.”
“Good thing you have those colorful leggings,” Ciri said with approval. “They’re pretty. And they suit you.”
“Thanks,” Triss smiled. “I made cookies. Baked them this morning.”
“Can I try one?” Ciri asked immediately, leaning toward her.
“Of course,” Triss said, handing the box to the back seat. “I didn’t count, so help yourself.”
Ciri grinned and pulled the whole box onto her lap, moving it slightly out of the dog’s reach. The awkwardness about Triss and her mom being together had, for the moment, been eased.
“Mmm. The chocolate ones,” she mumbled with her mouth full. “They’re good.”
“Ready to go?” Yennefer asked, watching Triss buckle her seatbelt.
“More than ready,” Triss replied, then reached into the back to pet Pontar, who immediately tried to lick her hand in greeting.
“You look beautiful.” Yennefer said honestly, smiling as her hand reached to rest lightly on Triss’s thigh. Triss smiled back, but didn’t get the chance to say anything before—
“Mom!” came Ciri’s voice from the back, her mouth still full.
“What?” Yennefer threw her a look that only pretended to be stern. “I didn’t even kiss her Ciri. Can’t I say something nice?”
Ciri just groaned and rolled her eyes. Triss glanced between them, clearly sensing she’d missed something, but not entirely sure what it was.
“Well... nice words are fine, I guess,” Ciri said at last. “But I’m only saying that because the cookies are delicious.”
“Ciri, you’re impossible,” Yennefer said, shaking her head in amusement. “I think you should inform Triss of your rules, since she looks completely lost right now.”
“Only a little lost. But I think I’m okay?” Triss asked, looking between them.
“Yeah,” Ciri said. “Just... don’t kiss each other in front of me, okay? And definitely no other gross stuff. I don’t want to see it.”
“Fair enough. I like clear rules,” Triss replied calmly.
“Good. The cookies are perfect, Triss. You should totally bake professionally,” Ciri added, just as they finally pulled away and started down the road.
Crach’s property sat on a wooded piece of land, with a recently renovated house. Cars were already gathering on the grass and gravel driveway. Yennefer spotted Chireadan’s sporty car and a few other familiar vehicles. Smoke drifted from somewhere behind the house, signaling that the fire was already lit.
“Cerys!” Ciri shouted, spotting her friend near the house even before the car came to a stop. As soon as Yennefer parked, Ciri jumped out and ran to her. The two girls hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years—even though it had only been Friday at school. Pontar hopped down carefully after her, still mindful of his injured leg, but already placing it more naturally.
“Looks like all we’ve got left are a few cookies,” Triss said with a small grin, reaching back to grab the box from the seat.
“You really shouldn’t trust Ciri when it comes to sweets,” Yennefer replied as she stepped out of the car.
“I think I know where she gets it from,” Triss chuckled quietly.
Yennefer walked to the trunk, opening it. When Triss came up beside her, Yennefer suddenly reached out and pulled her into a kiss.
“Hi.” Triss murmured softly.
“Hi. No little grumpy witness this time,” she said against her lips, smiling.
Triss blushed lightly but grinned, clearly pleased.
“What about all the other witnesses?” she asked, glancing toward the house.
“I’m not hiding,” Yennefer said with confidence, casting her a playful look as she reached for the gear. “We’re together. And I’m perfectly fine with everyone knowing that.”
Triss’s voice was as happy as the expression on her face.
“Really?”
“Really,” Yennefer confirmed. “Now come on. Let’s carry this in and enjoy the evening.”
The bonfire blazed at the center of the stone firepit, surrounded by wooden benches and scattered tree stumps. Crach’s property was perfect for gatherings like this. The house was nestled among pine and birch trees, offering natural shelter from the wind and curious neighbors. The team was out in full force, and as usual, one person tended the fire while the rest commented on how they could do it better. Perfect.
The atmosphere was exactly how Yennefer remembered from previous years. These people weren’t just coworkers. They were something closer to family, bound by difficult experiences few others could understand.
Triss found a spot on one of the wooden benches around the fire, and Yennefer casually tossed her fleece beside her to claim the seat. It was a quiet, wordless way of showing she felt comfortable with this new dynamic. That she wasn’t hiding or ashamed. They greeted everyone, and then joined Syanna in the house to help Seren carry out the food — far too much of it, as always. Everyone moved through the space like they belonged there. Hjalmar was seated with the rescuers, just as fascinated with their world as ever.
They sat, ate, and drank. They were resting. It didn’t feel like this was her farewell fire, not really. The team knew. But no one made her carry that weight tonight, and no one brought it up. She watched them. She watched Cerys and Ciri to make sure they weren’t tiring Pontar out. She watched Triss, who remained reassuringly close, and somehow that closeness didn’t feel as strange as she thought it might. She watched — because that had always been her place at these bonfires. Everything was just as it had always been.
As the sun dipped lower, so did the temperature. What had been a warm afternoon quickly turned into a cool evening. People began pulling on fleece jackets and moving closer to the fire. The flames now held a different kind of importance — not just decoration, but a vital source of warmth as October made its presence known. Ciri and Cerys appeared with blankets from somewhere, and Triss pulled one around her shoulders. Yennefer scooted closer.
That was when Philippa and Sheala arrived.
“Boss!” Chireadan called, lifting his beer in greeting. “And you brought backup!”
Philippa raised two elegant bottles of whiskey, her smile carrying that familiar sharp edge.
“I figured if this is an official bonfire with an unofficial reason, we should drink something better than beer.”
The guys laughed and accepted the booze with grateful enthusiasm. Philippa and Sheala moved around the fire, exchanging pleasantries, but Yennefer could tell they didn’t plan to stay long. It was a gesture of respect — Philippa’s way of showing the team that Yennefer’s departure was being treated with dignity and that she had everything under control. Yennefer hadn’t expected more from her, but she was glad she came.
Sheala, as always, drew attention without seeming to try. She wore a tailored blazer that probably cost more than most people made in a month. Yennefer caught herself studying the woman who had once been such a significant part of Philippa’s life, trying to understand what had brought her back into their orbit.
The team didn’t seem surprised by Sheala’s presence, which in turn surprised Yennefer. Had she been around the station more lately? How had she missed that? Then again, she hadn’t exactly been working much recently.
About twenty minutes into the gathering, Philippa caught her eye and gave a subtle nod toward the terrace. They needed to talk. That much was clear from the barely noticeable gesture.
Yennefer excused herself and followed Philippa into the shadows beyond the firelight. The contrast was immediate. Just a few steps from the flames, the evening reclaimed its chill, and she was suddenly grateful for the fleece she’d thrown on when the sun had begun dipping dangerously low.
“Hiding in the shadows?” she asked, stepping beside her and folding her arms.
“Some things never change.”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wooden railing that ran along the edge of the terrace.
Philippa joined her, a glass in hand filled with something amber and definitely stronger than the beer Yennefer had been sipping. For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the others gathered around the fire. Chireadan was telling a story that had Coën doubled over with laughter, while Triss listened intently, her smile visible even from this distance.
“I have a proposition for you,” Philippa said eventually. Her tone was all business, despite the casual setting.
“Should I be worried?” Yennefer replied, only half-joking.
“The training center in Montecalvo is expanding. They’ll have new openings next year,” Philippa continued, ignoring the jab. “First aid instructors. I may have mentioned to someone that you’d be looking for work.”
Yennefer felt her pulse quicken.
“Instructors?”
“Let’s say an acquaintance of mine runs a private company,” Philippa took a sip of her drink without so much as a wince. “They mostly offer workplace first aid courses, workshops, that kind of thing. City-based. Eight-hour shifts. Free weekends. Much better pay and a whole lot less responsibilities.”
Yennefer listened carefully. It sounded like a completely different world from mountain rescue. A whole new kind of saving lives.
“You really think I’m the right fit for that?”
“I don’t know,” Philippa said simply. “It’s an offer. What you do with it is up to you. The only requirement is an EMT certification, which you have,” she added. “You’d need to take an internal course and pass a simple exam. Nothing too complicated.”
A job still in Montecalvo would be perfect. In fact, it might not change much at all… or maybe it would change everything for the better. Fixed hours. Home every afternoon. Ciri wouldn’t need to switch schools or leave her friends. And Yennefer could still stay, at least in part, in the world that had once felt like her only real option.
“Why are you doing this?” Yennefer asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
Philippa turned to look at her directly.
“Because what happened to you was wrong. You're too valuable to be completely sidelined, and I know rescue work matters to you.”
Philippa's opinion was genuine, and Yennefer couldn’t help but laugh.
“First aid training?”
“Basic courses. Sometimes for schools, sometimes for private individuals. You know how it works, Yennefer” Philippa’s tone grew more serious. “Think about it. But don’t take too long. They won’t keep the position open forever.”
Before Yennefer could respond, Sheala appeared beside them, moving with her usual quiet grace.
“Crach wants to speak to you, Phil,” she said, though her eyes remained on Yennefer.
Yennefer watched as Philippa immediately straightened. Her body language shifted in response to Sheala’s presence. It was fascinating, really. To see someone as controlled as Philippa become almost... submissive.
“I should see what he needs,” Philippa said as she walked away, brushing Sheala’s shoulder lightly on her way.
Left alone, Sheala stepped closer, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.
“She’s well-trained,” Yennefer said dryly. “I can see how well you've... tamed such a complicated creature.”
Sheala’s laugh was soft but sharp.
“Tamed? That's an interesting choice of words from someone who appears to have been caught herself.”
The comment hit its mark. Yennefer felt heat rise in her cheeks, but before she could form a reply, Sheala went on.
“There’s one more thing you should know,” she said, her tone as calm and deliberate as always. “Before we close this out completely.”
“Before we close this out completely. How reassuring,” Yennefer replied flatly.
Sheala’s lips curved in something that might have been amusement.
“The situation with Rience is... let’s say it’s been handled with some added persuasion. Your colleagues are quite well informed about what happened. And from what I understand, they’ve proven very loyal to you.”
“What?” Yennefer felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing dramatic,” Sheala said, raising a hand to ward off her concern. “I may have hinted at a few things, but they’re professionals. They have their own ways of handling situations where traditional persuasion and the law might not be... sufficient.”
“You dragged them into this? What the hell for, Sheala?”
“Because I knew it would work. And because they needed to know who to watch for.” Sheala’s voice remained perfectly even, like she was discussing the weather. “Accidents happen in the mountains, don’t they? Rience should understand that reality. I believe he does now.”
Sheala paused, studying the expression on Yennefer’s face.
“Even with high-level connections, you can find yourself very vulnerable when an entire team of people you rely on to keep you alive decides you're no longer welcome. Anyone with common sense would recognize that kind of environment… and adjust accordingly.”
Yennefer wasn’t fully sure what had happened. Or how much had happened. But the admission left her uneasy, unsettled. She wondered what Rience had felt, what they had said to him… and if they’d done anything more. Still, if Sheala had stepped in — if the team treated her presence here as perfectly normal — then something significant must have happened. Something outside Yennefer’s line of sight, like most things involving Rience. Maybe that was for the best.
“Did they threaten him? Isn’t that too risky?”
“They didn’t exactly threaten him,” Sheala said carefully, choosing her words. “They just… shared information. About surveillance. About awareness. About the fact that they know exactly who to watch, and why.” She adjusted her blazer and looked back toward the fire. “Knowledge can be as effective as intimidation. Sometimes even more. They told him — in no uncertain terms — to stay far away from you. I think he got the message.”
“Thank you,” Yennefer said, and she meant it.
“It was nothing dramatic. Sometimes justice requires a certain kind of… persuasive sharing of information.” Sheala’s tone remained coolly professional. “He got what he wanted, and now he also knows better than to test his luck again. Just in case another brilliant idea crosses his mind.”
“Is that why you did it? For justice?”
“Partly. For justice, and for Philippa.” Sheala looked in the direction, where Philippa was still speaking with Crach. “She couldn’t handle it herself. Her position made it impossible. But I’m just a lawyer. I’m not part of the unit. I have other… options.”
Yennefer was starting to understand just how sophisticated Sheala’s involvement truly was.
“I know you need time to accept all this,” Sheala added. “But maybe it’ll be easier now. He knows he’s being watched. And he knows that the observers might become… participants, if necessary. In the mountains, during a rescue, connections aren’t always the strongest argument.”
There was something in Sheala’s tone that suggested the conversation had ended. They stood together for a moment, Yennefer glancing back at the team, wondering why they had done all of this for her. Then it hit her — they already knew. That’s why no one had been surprised by her resignation.
Philippa finished her conversation and walked over to them, eyeing both women as if trying to assess what had just happened.
“We should head back,” Sheala said, checking her watch. “We’ve got that thing.”
“Of course,” Philippa replied, then turned to Yennefer once more. “Let me know about the job next week. We can meet and go over the details.”
“I’ll let you know. Thanks,” Yennefer said calmly.
Both women made their rounds, saying goodbye to the group. Philippa exchanged a few words with each person — another good move, Yennefer realized. A gesture of respect for the people who would remain under her leadership. Then the two of them walked to Sheala’s white Mercedes, which looked absurdly elegant parked between the rescue team’s battered cars.
Yennefer stood back, watching them go. Watching how close they were, how Philippa leaned toward Sheala as they spoke. How Sheala held her gaze like nothing outside of Philippa existed. Whatever it was between them now, it was more mature than what they’d had before. Yennefer thought about herself and Triss. Did they look like that to someone watching from the outside? Apparently so, if Sheala had picked up on it. And if Sheala knew… Philippa must have known too.
She wondered why Philippa hadn’t said anything. As Triss’s ex, she should’ve…
Fuck.
Thinking of Philippa as Triss’s ex stirred an odd, sharp pang in her chest. She had Triss now, the way Philippa once had… She shook her head as another chill ran down her spine.
Warmth. She needed warmth.
When Yennefer returned to the fire, she saw that the group had naturally rearranged itself. Triss had moved closer to the flames and looked more relaxed than before. Possibly, the result of all the alcohol, which seemed to flow endlessly tonight. As soon as Yennefer sat beside her, Triss leaned into her warmth without hesitation.
“What was that about?” Triss asked quietly.
“Job offer,” Yennefer muttered back. “Training center in Montecalvo. I’ll tell you later.”
She caught the start of Triss’s reply and quickly shook her head. “Later,” she repeated, taking the beer from Triss’s hand and sipping.
Triss nodded and settled more comfortably against her shoulder. There was a brief silence. Yennefer looked away from the fire and let her gaze drift across the team. A tightness twisted in her stomach, but she knew she had to say something.
“Thanks. For everything,” she said, raising her beer.
There were quiet murmurs of agreement, and others raised their drinks in a toast. To loyalty. To the team.
When the sun had fully set and the sky turned pitch-black, the darkness around them grew deeper and more atmospheric. The mood shifted almost automatically, stories began to flow. Some familiar, some new, all told with that unique blend of dark humor and genuine affection that formed between people who regularly faced danger together.
Syanna took a seat on a blanket next to Pontar, absentmindedly scratching behind his ears as she listened to Eskel begin a tale about a particularly memorable rescue last summer. The dog had positioned himself strategically among the group, his clever eyes moving hopefully between those who might have food.
“Pontar’s being clever as ever,” Yennefer observed with amusement.
“Smart dog,” Syanna said, slipping him what was definitely not his first piece of sausage that evening. “He knows exactly who has the softest heart.”
The fire cracked and popped, sending occasional sparks spiraling into the dark sky. Cold night had arrived for real. Anyone who wandered more than a few feet from the fire was instantly reminded that winter was coming. But here, in their little circle of warmth and light, everything felt just right.
At some point during the evening, Cerys managed to convince Triss to join her in singing. Triss did her best to follow along to a pop song Cerys clearly knew by heart.
“She’s really trying,” Ciri said, sitting down next to her mother with a plate full of food.
“She’s really not succeeding,” Yennefer replied, though her tone was affectionate, not critical. There was something entirely charming about watching Triss make a complete mess of a song just to make a teenager happy.
“Oh my god, she just made up an entire verse,” Ciri gasped between fits of laughter, clearly finding Triss’s improvisation delightful.
Their laughter was contagious. Even Roche, who usually maintained a certain rough distance, was smiling as he watched the impromptu performance. Chireadan, like an oversized child, sang along with them. Everything was just like always. It didn’t feel like her last bonfire as part of the team. Even though she was technically already a former rescuer. What would happen next year? Would they invite her? Should she even come?
Triss nudged her and handed her the beer again, snapping her out of her thoughts. She took a sip. This one tasted different — lemony, much better. She handed it back, briefly wondering how much Triss had had to drink tonight — and how much she could handle. She didn’t know Triss’s limits with alcohol, but she was more than ready to take care of her tonight.
Actually, not just tonight.
Time passed slowly, the stories endless. The kind that got better with every sip of alcohol. Chireadan caused the most chaos, treating them to increasingly embellished retellings of past rescues, while the others interjected with corrections and their own points of view. He made up a lot. Everyone knew, and everyone loved it.
“Remember when you got stuck in that crevice and we had to literally chip the rock away to get you out?” Eskel asked, laughing shamelessly.
“I wasn’t stuck,” Chireadan protested. “I was testing how long I could last in a… no-exit situation.”
“Three hours is a pretty weak result,” Roche added dryly, though his lips curled into a smile that he quickly hid behind his drink.
Yennefer listened, eyes on the fire. She soaked in its bright glow and warmth. She’d lost track of time. A sudden movement pulled her back into the present. A few people had gone into the house — a light glowed softly on the façade and inside the room. A moment of pause; nature called.
Chireadan took a seat beside her, where Ciri had just been moments ago. She hadn’t had much to drink, but for a second, her head felt fuzzy — pleasantly quiet in a way she once would’ve found completely irresponsible.
“So,” he said, his tone deliberately too neutral—though she could hear that familiar hidden smile. “Anything else we should know? Any other major life changes we ought to be aware of?”
He glanced meaningfully toward where Triss was sitting close enough to Yennefer that their knees touched, her hand resting on Yennefer’s forearm.
“Subtle as ever, Chireadan,” Yennefer said dryly.
“I’m just saying,” he continued with exaggerated innocence.
“Jealous?”
“Me? Not at all! I just finally understand why I never had a shot.”
“Oh no, not this again…” she shook her head, barely suppressing a laugh.
“Can’t blame me for trying. But I’m not wrong, am I?”
Before Yennefer could come up with a response that wouldn’t encourage him further, Triss leaned forward toward him, invading Yennefer’s personal space even more. Yennefer just smiled.
“Yennefer simply has excellent taste in friends,” Triss said, though the slight flush on her cheeks made it clear she fully understood what Chireadan was implying.
“Friends,” Chireadan echoed, grinning. “Right. Of course. That’s what we’re calling it now.”
“Leave the lovebirds alone,” said Crach, returning to the fire. His tone, however, was clearly amused. “Some things speak for themselves.” He caught Yennefer’s eye and lifted his beer bottle in a small salute. “Sometimes an ending is just the start of something better. I say we drink to that.”
The remaining members of the team who hadn’t retreated inside raised their drinks in agreement. The warmth Yennefer felt didn’t just come from the fire—it was that sense of acceptance, of belonging that went beyond professional ties. These people genuinely cared about her happiness. And that meant something. A lot, actually.
“To new beginnings,” said Syanna, raising her beer.
“And old friendships,” added Iorveth.
“To never rescue Chireadan from a crevice again,” Crach chimed in, earning a round of laughter.
As the night wore on, the group slowly began to thin out. At some point, Yennefer noticed that Ciri, Cerys, and even Pontar had disappeared—probably retreating to the warmth of the house. The dog had long since switched from waiting for dropped food to napping, and the girls had been yawning and battling sleep for the past hour.
Triss had definitely been swept up in the bonfire atmosphere, and between her and Syanna, they had drunk quite a bit. Only Syanna seemed to be holding it together, while Triss leaned heavily into Yennefer’s side, her head occasionally dropping to rest on Yennefer’s shoulder.
“I think someone’s done for the night,” Yennefer said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Triss’s face.
“I’m not tired,” Triss protested, even as her eyes closed.
“Of course not,” Yennefer agreed diplomatically. “But maybe we should head inside anyway.”
Saying goodbye took longer than expected, as it always did. Everyone suddenly had something to say, one more drink to pour, one last joke to make. She said her farewells, accepted hugs and best wishes that, coming from slightly tipsy rescuers, sounded unusually sentimental. These weren’t permanent goodbyes—she wasn’t disappearing from their lives—but there was still something oddly official about it all. Though she also knew most of their words were just drunken nonsense.
Eventually, Yennefer managed to extract both herself and Triss from the group.
“Come on,” she said to Triss, who was swaying slightly where she stood. “Let’s get you inside.”
“I can walk,” Triss insisted, though she immediately accepted Yennefer’s steadying arm around her waist.
“I know you can,” Yennefer replied patiently. “I’m just making sure you’re walking in the right direction.”
They started slowly toward the house, leaving the fire’s warmth behind. The difference was instant and shocking—night had grown truly cold, and their fleece jackets didn’t offer quite enough protection. But just before they reached the door, Triss suddenly stopped and turned in Yennefer’s arms.
“Thank you,” she said, the words slightly slurred but entirely sincere. “For taking me tonight. For letting me be part of this. For everything.”
Before Yennefer could reply, Triss leaned up and pulled her into a kiss. It was soft and warm and tasted of beer and smoke—a perfect contrast to the cold air around them. Yennefer responded instinctively, her hands sliding to Triss’s waist to steady her—and to keep her close.
When they finally pulled apart, they both shivered slightly but didn’t let go. Triss’s arms remained looped around Yennefer’s shoulders, and her gaze had gone unfocused.
“What was that for?” Yennefer asked, unable to stop the smile tugging at her lips.
“Because I can,” Triss replied simply. “Because I want to. Because you’re amazing, and I’m a little drunk, and you look beautiful in the firelight.”
“A little drunk?” Yennefer said. “We should get inside, you’re going to freeze.”
“I’m not cold,” Triss insisted, immediately contradicting herself with a visible shiver.
“Liar,” Yennefer said fondly, guiding her by the arm toward the door.
Inside, the house was warm and quiet. Crach had set up inflatable mattresses upstairs in Cerys’s room. They climbed the stairs slowly, doing their best to stay quiet. A soft light had been left on, illuminating the hallway. Cerys’s room was the last door on the right. As they stepped inside, the gentle glow from the corridor revealed the girls already asleep, curled up together, with Pontar sprawled beneath the bed like a furry guardian.
They gathered their bags as quietly as they could, though Triss couldn’t completely stifle a giggle at the sleepover setup and the still very girlish decor of Cerys’s room.
“We’re having a pajama party,” she whispered with a kind of delighted wonder that only came from slightly drunken emotions.
“We are,” Yennefer agreed, steering her toward the bathroom. “But first you need to get ready for bed.”
“You should go first,” Triss said, gesturing vaguely. “I’ll just…”
She turned to grab something from her bag and somehow managed to completely lose her grip. The contents scattered across the wooden hallway floor with a sound that felt thunderous in the quiet of the night.
“Shit,” Triss muttered, staring at the mess she’d made.
Yennefer had no idea how someone could accidentally drop a bag and cause that level of chaos, but drunk Triss, apparently, was… well, a whirlwind. A beautiful one, but chaos nonetheless.
“Just grab your pajamas,” Yennefer said quickly, kneeling to help gather the spilled contents. “I’ll clean this up.”
“You don’t have to…” Triss started.
“Pajamas. Bathroom. Now,” Yennefer said firmly, though there was no anger in her voice. “Before you wake the whole house.”
Triss grabbed her sleep clothes and a towel and slipped into the bathroom, leaving Yennefer sorting through the scattered items. Most of it was standard travel stuff—clothes, toiletries, phone charger. But among the mess was an open notebook. That familiar shade of turquoise that always caught the eye.
Yennefer picked it up, smiling to herself. She’d seen Triss writing in it, sketching in it—she always had it with her. Even here. She turned it over in her hands, and despite herself, her attention snagged on the familiar sight of Triss’s handwriting.
She shouldn’t look. She knew she shouldn’t. It was Triss’s private stuff—but she was a little drunk, and they were together now, and there, on one of the written pages, was her own name underlined at the top. Next to it, a small sketched heart sat beside a paw print. It was… sweet.
Her eyes drifted lower, to the text. Words and letters, underlined and crossed out, as if Triss had been pouring thoughts onto the page—she had said once that she did that. The warmth of the house made the small amount of alcohol in Yennefer’s system suddenly slow her perception of the world.
She squinted at the page in the dim hallway light. She knew she shouldn't read it, but she could make out the words, and she did.
I see the shadows in your eyes,
All that you feel but keep inside.
Your heart's secured behind these walls,
But I can hear its silent calls.
No words are needed, I can see
In your cold eyes, all that you feel.
Every gesture, every sign,
Draws me closer, makes you mine.
I'll wait for you, I'll match your stride,
No need to run, no need to hide.
Your heart will find its way to me,
I'll stay until you're truly free.
Every whisper, every glance,
Shows me your slow, cautious dance.
I'll wait for you through endless night,
So please don't fear, I'll be your light.
She held her breath, and the spinning in her head intensified. The words were clearly about her—about them. About Triss waiting, watching, hoping—before Yennefer had even realized what was happening between them. Or maybe when she already had, but was still pretending. There was no date, no indication of when this had been written…
It was a song.
Not a poem. Not a regular entry.
A song.
Shit.
She didn’t get to read more, the sound of water from the shower snapped her out of it. A wave of guilt washed over her. She quickly closed the notebook and shoved everything back into the bag, zipping it shut. She had no right to read Triss’s private thoughts, no matter how much they were about her. Her heart was racing. She leaned back against the wall, breath catching. The world still spun a little, time passing like it belonged to another reality.
There was a strange guilt tightening in her chest. Strange, because the song was beautiful. And the fact that Triss had felt the same, before, was… overwhelming. She’d tell her. She had to. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe…
The bathroom door opened, and slightly tipsy, heartbreakingly gentle Triss smiled at her—though her eyes looked like they were seeing only mist.
“All cleaned up?” Triss asked, swaying slightly as she approached.
Before she could think, before the guilt could swallow her whole, Yennefer reached out and took Triss’s hand.
“I love you,” she said simply.
Triss’s eyes widened, and so did her smile. “I love you too,” she whispered. “So much, it scares me sometimes.”
Yennefer smiled despite herself and helped guide Triss to the mattress in the darkened room. She adjusted pillows and blankets until Triss was comfortable. “Sleep.”
Yennefer retreated to the bathroom, stepping impatiently under the shower. Under the hot stream of water, she finally let herself process what she’d read in Triss’s notebook. The words circled her thoughts.
‘I'll wait for you, I'll match your stride,’
How could she put something like that into words so beautifully?
Triss had written her a song. A real song, with her name at the top and a little heart drawn beside it. How long had she carried those feelings, shaping them into verses when she couldn’t say them out loud? How much longer would she have waited, if Yennefer hadn’t broken first under the tension?
She closed her eyes and let the water run down her face. How was she supposed to respond to something like that? How could she ever give Triss something just as beautiful in return? She was practical, straightforward, better with actions than with words. Was her love enough? Could she ever express what she felt with the same effortless grace Triss seemed to manage so easily? Did Triss feel it—believe in her feelings?
Those questions lingered as she dried off and changed into her own nightwear. When she returned to Cerys’s room, she expected to find Triss already asleep. Instead, she found her lying on her side, with Pontar stretched out next to her. The dog was dozing, and she was gently petting him like she’d just been waiting for Yennefer to come back.
“I thought you'd be asleep already,” Yennefer said softly, settling on the mattress beside them.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Triss murmured, her voice still slightly slurred. “Too much thinking. And Pontar keeps making those little raspy sounds that are actually kind of adorable.”
As if on cue, the dog let out a soft snore, making Triss smile.
“You should try to rest,” Yennefer said, pulling the blankets around them both. “You’re going to have a spectacular headache tomorrow.”
“Probably,” Triss agreed, though she made no move to close her eyes. “Yen? Can we talk about the job thing? What is it, exactly?”
“First aid trainings, Triss. Mostly for companies,” she answered quietly, shifting closer to her.
“You mean like the first-aid course we took at work? You’re gonna be the hot instructor?” Triss mumbled, turning over and slipping her hands under the blanket to find Yennefer’s.
“Gods, Triss…”
“What? I think it sounds perfect. I know you’re probably going to overthink it, but…”
“Triss,” Yennefer interrupted gently, placing a finger over her lips. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. The job, your inevitable hangover, everything. But right now, you need to sleep. Before you wake the girls.”
“But I want to talk about us. We never talk about us,” Triss insisted, though her voice was fading. “About how this is going to work, and if you’re really okay with people knowing, and what happens when…”
“Tomorrow,” Yennefer repeated firmly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I promise we’ll figure it all out tomorrow. But if you wake Ciri and Cerys now, they’ll never forgive us.”
Triss seemed to consider that, then nodded solemnly.
“That would be bad.”
“Very bad,” Yennefer agreed. “Now close your eyes.”
Triss shifted, looking for a comfortable position, until she finally nestled into Yennefer’s side with a content sigh. She draped an arm across her waist and somehow tangled their legs together in a strange but comfortable way. Yennefer began tracing slow, gentle circles on her back through the soft fabric of her pajamas.
“I love you,” Triss mumbled into her shoulder.
“I love you too,” Yennefer whispered back, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. “Now sleep.”
But Triss, apparently, wasn’t quite ready to surrender to unconsciousness.
“Yen?” she said after a moment. “I really think you should take that job.”
“Mhmm.”
“And that whole bonfire thing was fantastic. They really love you, you know?”
“They’re good people. Sleep now, babe,” Yennefer said softly, continuing to stroke her back.
Triss lifted herself slightly to look down at her, frowning with a very specific kind of indignation that clearly came mostly from the alcohol.
“No... 'babe' is my thing. You can’t just steal it. Come up with something of your own.”
“Babe is the most common one, Triss.”
“I was first,” Triss murmured against Yennefer’s neck. “Make something up.”
Yennefer couldn’t help but smile at her tone.
“Shhh, sunshine,” she said immediately, reaching up to silence any further protest with a soft kiss.
Triss made a tiny sound of surrender, melting back into her arms.
“That’s not fair,” she mumbled.
“Sleep, sunshine,” Yennefer whispered, teasing her with the new nickname as she resumed the soft, comforting strokes down Triss’s back.
This time, Triss didn’t argue. She shifted a few more times, then gradually her breathing evened out, and she lay still. Yennefer continued the gentle motions for a few more minutes until she was sure Triss was truly out.
Lying there in the darkness, she knew there was still a lot to rebuild after the storm. A lot had been broken that could never truly be repaired. And yet tonight, surrounded by the people she loved most, with Triss warm and trusting in her arms, she felt okay.
The storm had passed. This was the quiet that followed. She wanted to stay in that quiet just a little longer—tonight, right now.
Just a little longer before she got up to start building her life again, one more time.
Notes:
We're almost at the end — only the epilogue left!
Yennefer and Triss have come a long way, and now they finally get to walk that path together. I love good endings, so there really couldn't be any other kind here.You’ve also come a long way — with me, and with them! Thank you so much for sticking with this story. 💜💙
Chapter 25
Notes:
This is the final chapter of the story.
Thank you for staying with Triss and Yennefer (and the true star — Pontar) until the end. For feeling with them, hoping with them, and falling with them.
I appreciate it more than I can ever say. Truly. 🤍🐾
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Saturday, December 14, 8:15 a.m.
Yennefer's house, Zamirath
Winter had arrived suddenly and violently—much like summer—as if the seasons here only knew extremes. Snow had been falling all week with brief pauses, wrapping the mountains and the surrounding valley in a pristine white that transformed the familiar landscape into something out of a fairytale. It was freezing, but the sun shone with a harsh light, stubbornly refusing to yield. It was that light that woke Yennefer, cutting mercilessly through the not-quite-closed curtains of her bedroom.
Yesterday already felt blurred, like a pleasant dream she was only now waking from. She, Triss, and Ciri had spent hours out on holiday errands, wandering crowded shops and open-air markets until they were thoroughly exhausted, overloaded with bags and running on caffeine and seasonal adrenaline. By the time they’d made it home, the snow had thickened, fat flakes swirling through the headlights, reducing visibility until the roads turned treacherous. They were all too tired to argue when Yennefer told Triss she should stay the night instead of driving home through the storm. Especially since she was supposed to come back the next day anyway—this weekend was theirs alone.
It wasn’t the first time Triss had spent the night. She’d been keeping clothes here for weeks, had her own drawer in the bathroom, knew where the good towels were. What made this time different was that Ciri was home too. It was the first time they’d all shared this space together, and it felt… like something resembling a family.
“Good morning, December Morning,” Triss whispered, her breath warm against Yennefer’s neck, her voice still husky from sleep but softened by affection.
Yennefer groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow, though a smile tugged at her lips.
“Oh, Triss… I really need to change that username.”
“It won’t matter. You’ll always be my December morning, no matter what your handle is,” Triss replied, her fingers gently finding Yennefer’s hair, combing through the tangles with patient tenderness. “I love you like this, you know? All soft and sleepy and mine.”
“Yours,” Yennefer agreed without thinking. The word slipped out unguarded, bypassing the layers of caution she normally held in place. “You’ve been up long?”
“A little while. I like watching you sleep.”
“That’s slightly creepy, don’t you think?” she murmured, leaning in to kiss Triss’s soft lips.
“Maybe. I never claimed to be normal.”
They lay wrapped around each other in easy silence for a while. Yennefer let herself sink into the warmth of the bed, the steady presence of Triss beside her, the luxury of having nowhere she needed to be. It was still new enough to feel like a gift—lazy mornings without sudden call-outs, no gear to check, no mountain forecasts to obsessively monitor. Just this: soft sheets, softer touches, and a day that belonged entirely to them.
“You know what’s sweet?” Triss asked after a while, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“My cactus. Well, your cactus, but from me. It’s sitting there on your nightstand, and it just... always makes me smile when I see it.”
Yennefer turned to look at the little potted plant, still stubbornly green and somehow thriving despite her historically abysmal record with anything that required nurturing.
“It still hasn’t bloomed. Maybe it doesn’t like it here after all.”
“Oh, give it time,” Triss chuckled. “You know something else is blooming now.”
“Are you becoming a poet? Because it is way too early for that level of sentiment.”
“You love it. Admit it.”
“I don’t make serious admissions before coffee.”
“You’re the worst.”
“ I never said I wasn’t.”
Their playful banter was interrupted by a dramatic shout from the hallway. Ciri, making it obvious she was awake and perfectly aware of what might be going on in the house. It was the kind of theatrical declaration teens made when they wanted to give the adults a fair warning, and Yennefer appreciated the courtesy, even as she rolled her eyes at the performance.
“If you’re already up, let Pontar out?” she called, stretching lazily in bed.
She heard Triss mutter 'such a cat' under her breath, and Ciri replied something unintelligible from the hallway. A moment later, they both heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by the creak of the door opening. Excited barking echoed from the yard, and Yennefer smiled at the sound. The dog had adjusted to retirement far better than she’d expected, trading the intensity of search-and-rescue work for the simple joys of chasing snowflakes and napping in warm sun patches. He loved the snow more than any child ever could.
Triss’s hand found Yennefer’s on the pillow, fingers lacing together without a conscious thought.
“Yen,” Triss murmured, her thumb stroking the back of Yennefer’s hand. “It’s… nice, having Ciri here. I mean, here. With us.”
Yennefer turned, meeting Triss’s gaze. She saw the slight hesitation in Triss’s eyes, a familiar flicker of uncertainty.
“Yeah,” Yennefer replied, her voice soft. “It is. Does it feel strange?”
“A little. It’s the first time we’ve all been here like this in the morning. I just… I don’t want to overstep. Or mess anything up. Make her feel like I’m trying to replace someone, or take over.” Triss’s voice was quiet, earnest.
Yennefer looked at her for a moment, her gaze steady. “Triss. You’re not going to do anything wrong. You fit. She’s already accepted you. It’s just… she’s eleven. She likes to tease. That’s what she does. It’s not about you. Not in a bad way.”
Triss offered a small, shy smile. “I know. I just… she’s wonderful, and I really like her. I want her to be okay with this. With me.”
Yennefer chuckled softly, a low sound in her throat. “Trust me, if she truly had a problem, you’d know. She wouldn’t have just gone to bed without a word last night. And she certainly wouldn’t be doing that theatrical performance in the hall this morning if she didn’t want you to see her.”
Triss laughed, burying her face against Yennefer’s shoulder. “You really think so?”
“I know so, Merigold. She’s just trying to be dramatic. Teenage drama is… complicated. Sometimes I don’t even know if she likes me.”
Triss lifted her head, her eyes shining with amusement. “You do. You know she does.”
Yennefer sighed playfully. “Yeah, yeah.” She shifted, rising slightly on one elbow, her hand lightly tracing the smooth skin of Triss’s stomach where her nightshirt had ridden up. “It’s not fair, you know? You don’t have any tickle spots.”
“Oh, Yennefer,” Triss said, her voice teasing, “crying over the injustice of the world again?”
“Yeah,” Yennefer admitted, her gaze dropping to Triss’s lips. “Now, how about some coffee? And breakfast?”
“Mhm. Just let me get dressed, okay?” Triss said, seeing the look in Yennefer’s eyes and lightly batting her with a pillow. “Your daughter’s downstairs, you heathen. Gods, Yennefer.”
They climbed out of bed, the soft sounds of their movement filling the quiet room. Yennefer stretched, feeling the gentle ache of sleep leaving her limbs. The small amount of friction between them as they navigated the space felt utterly natural, a comfortable dance they had quickly learned. Triss’s presence no longer felt like an imposition but a welcome expansion, filling the empty spaces in Yennefer’s home with light and warmth. Her quiet hum from the bathroom, the faint scent of her shampoo, the soft shuffling of her feet – all of it now just was.
They made their way downstairs together and found that Ciri had already brewed the coffee—black for Yennefer, oat milk for Triss, perfectly prepared without anyone needing to ask—and was laying out the ingredients for toast. She was still in her pajamas, hair in a messy braid, and looked up when they entered, giving them a casual wave. Yennefer felt a rush of affection for the way her daughter had so effortlessly embraced this new version of their life.
“Sit down,” Ciri announced with the authority of someone who had clearly appointed herself head chef for the morning. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” Yennefer said as she took a seat at the kitchen table beside Triss and accepted her coffee with sincere gratitude.
“I’m practically grown now, and making breakfast or coffee is really not that hard,” Ciri replied with dignified composure—though she couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “Besides, someone has to take care of you two.”
Yennefer watched her daughter preparing breakfast with real focus. She caught Triss’s gaze and squeezed her thigh gently under the table, as if to say 'told you, everything’s fine'. Triss smiled back, her cheeks flushing a soft pink, and she hid behind her mug of hot coffee, watching Ciri too.
“So, Ciri,” Yennefer said carefully, testing the waters, “how do you feel about today?”
“Amazing!” Ciri’s whole face lit up, like she’d been waiting for permission to gush. “Dad says the Christmas fair in Tretogor is a must-see, and the less of a grown-up you are, the better. So let’s say I’m grown-up now, and later I won’t be.”
“Too bad we don’t have a market like that here,” Triss said with a dreamy look in her eyes. “With the mountain backdrop, it would be incredible…”
“We do have the big square in Montecalvo! They should do something with that space, it's such a waste to use it all for just one big Christmas tree.” Ciri pointed out, perking up. She sat across from Triss and reached for her cup. Yennefer watched her with narrowed eyes, silently hoping it was barley coffee—but she said nothing. She didn’t want to spoil the moment with nitpicking. Her hand still rested on Triss’s thigh, a reminder to herself to enjoy the little things, not sweat the small stuff.
“Exactly! I’d go there every day till the holidays.”
“I’d go with you!” Ciri giggled. “We’d probably drive Mom crazy.”
“It’s not that easy to drive me crazy, you two,” Yennefer said with a smile.
“We can try,” Ciri teased, but fell quiet when Yennefer shot her a meaningful look.
“You’re staying the night in Tretogor?” Triss asked, shifting the subject.
“Yep! We’re spending the night at this really fancy hotel. They even have a pool, supposedly. Tonight is all about relaxing, and tomorrow we have the whole day to explore the stalls and buy stuff and eat way too much festival food.”
Her excitement quickly spread to all three of them. As always, Triss was fully engaged, asking about decorations, crafts, and local traditions, and soon she and Ciri had launched into an animated discussion about holiday ornaments and handmade jewelry. Yennefer mostly listened, content to sip her coffee and watch them bond over shared enthusiasm for twinkling lights and artisan goods. They ate breakfast while chatting, and honestly, nothing more was needed.
There was something deeply satisfying and calming about seeing the two most important people in her life genuinely like each other—and get along. Not just tolerating one another for her sake, but truly enjoying each other's company.
“What should I get you guys?” Ciri asked eventually, looking between them with the serious expression of someone strategizing major gift logistics.
“Surprises make the best presents,” Triss said with a smile.
“Oh come on, give me a hint.”
“I collect bracelets,” Triss admitted, raising her wrist to show off the assortment of leather and beaded bands she wore. “If that’s not too obvious.”
Yennefer’s eyes immediately landed on the simple blue-green friendship bracelet she’d made during her summer vacation—still there among the others. It was a little worn now, the colors faded, but it hadn’t been removed. It was still valued.
She actually had something for Triss. She’d been planning to give it to her today—or maybe tomorrow—or... sometime soon. Just the thought of it made her stomach flutter with nerves in that now-familiar way that came with big, romantic gestures. She had never been the romantic type, but with Triss it was different. Giving surprises, saying kind things—it felt true, because it was true. And beautiful. Because Triss received every gesture and every word as if nothing else in the world mattered. And that only made Yennefer want to give her more.
“I’ll find some really pretty beads and make you something special,” Ciri decided with the confident tone of someone who’d inherited her mother’s determination. “What’s your zodiac sign?”
“Libra,” Triss replied, turning to her with genuine interest. “What do you want for Christmas?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s the problem.” Ciri slumped back in her chair with a dramatic sigh, nursing her coffee. “I need to figure it out before Dad asks again. He’s been dropping hints for weeks.”
“Well, if you don’t have anything specific in mind, I might have an idea,” Triss said, her tone deliberately mysterious.
“What is it?” Ciri leaned in immediately.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Triss, please… just tell me…”
“Nope,” Triss mumbled, hiding again behind her mug.
Yennefer caught the gleam in her eye, the happiness etched across her face.
They were saved from further gift negotiations by the crunch of tires on snow. Geralt’s timing, as always, was impeccable—arriving exactly when he’d said he would, ready for whatever weather and teenage chaos Ciri might throw at him.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of activity. Ciri ran upstairs to change—far faster than usual—and grabbed her overnight bag, practically vibrating with excitement. Geralt stepped into the kitchen to warm up and trade affectionate insults with Yennefer. Meanwhile, Pontar had come back inside, absolutely covered in snow and now leaving wet paw prints all over the floor.
Things between her and Geralt had improved significantly since October. His anger over the situation with Rience had gradually shifted into an acceptance of her choices—mixed with a clear sense of relief that she was happy. Rebuilding trust still took time, and would probably take more, but they were on the right path.
“All set?” he asked, glancing at Ciri, who was practically bouncing on her feet.
“So ready! I’ve been planning this for weeks.”
“And what about you two?” He looked between Yennefer and Triss with a knowing smirk that suggested he was about to say something deliberately embarrassing. “Any exciting plans for the weekend without the kid?”
“Grocery shopping,” Yennefer replied dryly. “Maybe a bit of cooking. Wild domestic adventures.”
“Sounds like the perfect Saturday,” Geralt said, and then—because apparently he couldn’t help himself—added, “Try not to burn the house down if you get too caught up in each other.”
The way he said it made both women groan in unison.
“Daaaad…”
“What?” he laughed, turning to the dog. “Watch over them, Pontar.”
Ciri giggled and knelt to hug the dog tightly.
“We don’t need watching,” Yennefer said calmly. “We’ll be fine.”
“No doubt,” Geralt replied, still looking smug. “Have fun.”
“We will,” Yennefer called after him, teasing now. “You too. And drive safe.”
“Always.”
Ciri said her goodbyes to both women, giving Triss a quick hug and accepting a kiss on the forehead from Yennefer with only minimal eye-rolling. They were alone. The house always felt a little too quiet without Ciri, but since Triss had started staying over more often, that feeling had faded almost entirely.
“So,” Triss said after a moment, once the sound of the car driving away had faded, glancing around the kitchen like she was seeing it with fresh eyes, “kitchen cleanup, then grocery run? Maybe we’ll pick up something fun for dinner?”
“Sounds perfect,” Yennefer agreed. “I’ll start with the puddles left behind by our snow-covered disaster and maybe shovel the driveway a bit. I’m not sure I can even get the car out.”
They both knew exactly what needed to be done, and within a short while, the house was clean and everything ready for their outing.
Later, Yennefer stood by the door dressed in her coat, keys in hand and a shopping list in her pocket, when she realized Triss was still darting around the house like a squirrel on espresso, most likely looking for her wallet with increasing frustration. Yennefer had already double-checked if the security camera was on and whether all the windows were shut. She hadn’t had a single incident since leaving the rescue unit—not even a random Rience sighting—but some habits had become so ingrained, she didn’t even think about them anymore.
“I know I put it somewhere safe,” Triss was muttering, checking the pockets of her coat and her bag for the third time, while Yennefer watched with mounting patience.
“Did you check the organizer by the door?” Yennefer suggested at last. “You know, that little wooden thing I specifically showed you for this purpose? The place important stuff goes so you can always find it?”
“I... forgot about it,” Triss admitted, halting her search and looking adorably sheepish.
Yennefer sighed and glanced down at Pontar, who was watching the situation with the focused interest of a dog sensing that adventure—or at least chaos—might be near.
“Now I understand why she was always late to our meetings.”
“Can you help me?” Triss pleaded, giving her a look so persuasive it could probably talk Yennefer into minor crimes.
“What am I, some kind of search and rescue specialist?” Yennefer quipped dryly, then smiled as Triss looked appropriately scandalized by the comment.
She unzipped her coat and joined the hunt, Pontar trailing after them like a shaggy little assistant. The dog seemed to find the whole thing amusing, tail wagging as he followed them from room to kitchen to hallway. Eventually, he stopped beside the armchair and barked—once, loud and purposeful.
“What’ve you got there?” Yennefer pulled back the cushions and lifted a blanket. Triss’s wallet tumbled out and hit the floor.
“Thank you, good boy,” Triss said sincerely, scratching behind his ears as a reward. “Best dog in the world.”
“What was it doing there?”
“I must’ve tossed it there last night when we were unloading all the shopping bags,” Triss explained, looking sheepish again. “I was totally wiped, and everything just kind of exploded onto the couch and chairs.”
“Clearly.”
The big grocery store was bustling with holiday decorations and people, but they moved through it with the ease of two people who had learned to operate as a team. Since Triss had started tagging along on errands, Yennefer had even started to enjoy shopping. She still ordered groceries when she was on her own, but if Triss was staying over, they’d go together. Yennefer pushed the cart and consulted her neatly organized list—grouped according to her usual route through the store for maximum efficiency—while Triss kept adding items that weren’t on the list but had caught her eye: a better cheese than planned, some nuts on sale, and chocolates. Another bottle of wine, with a label that promised it was perfect for winter evenings.
“I’m paying for my own impulsive choices,” Triss announced, when Yennefer raised an eyebrow at the growing collection of extras filling their cart.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You looked at me.”
“This is just how I look.”
“You have different looks. That was your ‘Triss is being impractical again’ look.”
Yennefer was formulating a response to that completely accurate observation when she noticed a display of thick wool socks decorated with reindeer patterns. Without really thinking, she grabbed a pair in what she guessed was Triss’s size and added them to the cart, along with a few soy candles from the endcap display that had caught her eye.
“I thought you said candles release toxic fumes and questionable chemicals,” Triss said with barely disguised glee, clearly delighted to catch her in a moment of hypocrisy.
“These are soy-based, so they’re fine. Totally different chemical makeup.”
“Are you sure? Did you research this thoroughly, Miss Knows-Everything-About-Everything?”
“I can put them back if you’d prefer,” Yennefer offered, reaching for the candles with exaggerated reluctance.
“Don’t you dare.” Triss blocked her arm with her whole body, guarding the candles like they were precious artifacts. “You don’t have enough mood in that house. Not enough warmth.”
“I have warmth…”
“I’m talking about romantic atmosphere…”
“That’s why I’m buying the candles.”
“Maybe some fairy lights too?” Triss asked hopefully, eyes wide.
“I have a nice lamp... somewhere... in the closet.”
“You’re awful…”
“Nope.”
“But I appreciate that you’re trying to be romantic,” she laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Yennefer’s cheek, not caring one bit about the surrounding crowd.
“This is all your fault. I hope you're aware.”
“Oh, I am. And I’m not sorry.”
Later at home, they cooked together. A slow-simmered vegetable stew that filled the house with rich, savory smells and gave them the perfect excuse to open a bottle of wine early. It was one of those moments Yennefer rarely allowed herself, and one that had never felt quite so magical before. Triss was right in the middle of it all, humming along to the Christmas music on the radio. Yennefer kept catching herself sneaking glances at her, the way she moved through the kitchen with a lightness that bordered on dancing. The wine didn’t help; it was hard to focus on anything but the red-haired woman in her space.
What pulled her out of that dreamy, holiday-sweet haze was a message from Chireadan. He’d sent her a photo of the mountains, the kind where you could make out ropes, medical bags, and backpacks in the frame. He’d only added, “Beautiful view. Cold as hell. We’ve still got a hike back to base.”
She suddenly felt very warm and very grateful to be home. She replied quickly: ‘Be safe’, nothing more, and didn’t press him with questions. Sometimes messages like that surprised her, but she was oddly thankful for them. It gave her a thread back to that world. Even if, truthfully, most of the updates came from Triss. She still dropped by the unit once a week, gathering information for her article. She didn’t hang around for hours like she used to—just gathered the stories, and brought them back to Yennefer. They worked through them together when they had a spare moment and weren’t otherwise distracted by each other.
Triss read the message over her shoulder, close enough that Yennefer could smell the sweet scent of her underneath the stew and spices.
“They’ll always see you as one of them,” Triss said softly. “And Pontar will always be the best search-and-rescue dog in the world.”
“Even if these days he’s mostly searching for wallets and snacks.”
“Especially then. Retirement suits him.”
They both glanced at the dog, who immediately perked up and started wagging his tail. Triss, just as smitten with him as the first day, crouched down and asked in the kind of sweet voice people usually reserve for children,
“Wanna go for a walk?”
Pontar only gave a playful snap of his jaws before trotting straight to the door, grabbing his leash in his mouth on the way. Yennefer smiled and shook her head.
“Can we go, Mom?” Triss asked, teasing her.
“Yes, but not for too long,” Yennefer replied.
Triss smiled, knowing full well that Yennefer probably didn’t want to be left alone for long. Another quick kiss, and then Triss turned her full attention to the dog while Yennefer returned to the kitchen. She watched them go from the window, Pontar clearly delighted to be the center of attention—something Triss gave freely to everyone she spent time with.
Being in a relationship with a woman was unlike anything she’d experienced before, Yennefer had come to realize. It was more emotionally engaging somehow. More intense in a way that was beautiful, and at times, overwhelming. Maybe it was simply that she’d never been in a truly healthy, honest relationship before. Or maybe there was something inherently different about loving women—the way emotions seemed to move more freely, the way physical affection felt natural, the way they seemed to understand each other’s needs without lengthy explanations.
Either way, she had no interest in testing the theory with anyone else. She was happy with Triss, period. Right now, things were so good that she couldn’t imagine wanting anything else. She wanted this to last forever—this house filled with laughter, with dog fur and Triss’s coffee; the effortless partnership that made even mundane tasks feel meaningful; the small arguments that felt harmless and real. That sense of being seen, valued, and loved exactly as she was.
Triss came back twenty minutes later, cheeks pink and hair dusted with snow, practically glowing from the cold. Pontar immediately started leaving wet paw prints all over the kitchen floor, but Triss already knew where everything was—towels, dog treats, the best spot by the radiator for drying off. She cleaned up efficiently, telling Yennefer stories about neighbors she’d bumped into, other dogs, and the perfect photo she’d taken of Pontar with snow covering his nose like frosting.
“He’s amazing,” she said, reaching for her wine and checking the stew, humming to herself in a way that still managed to completely enchant Yennefer. “Just absolutely incredible. He posed for like fifteen photos without a single complaint.”
“I already told you, you should get a spaniel.”
Triss smiled and took a sip of wine.
“I remember. But I can’t have dogs in my apartment. And besides... black or red? How would I choose?” she teased.
“Red. Obviously.”
“It's not that obvious,” Triss laughed. “But maybe... maybe someday I’ll get one of those sweet little goofs.”
“You know dogs aren’t a problem here,” Yennefer said, her voice casual, but her gaze was fixed on Triss. She watched her, allowing her directness to speak for itself.
Triss froze in place. Her eyes widened slightly, her smile faltering.
“Here?”
“That’s what I said,” Yennefer replied quickly, suddenly nervous about how the words had come out. Too bold? Too soon? “I mean... it’d be natural, right? And we don’t have to rush into anything big, but... I want us to be together. Really together. If that’s something you’d want. Someday.”
Triss set her wine glass down and turned to face her, those blue eyes scanning Yennefer’s face like she was trying to decode a message in a foreign language.
“You want me to move in?”
“I want us to build a life together. A real one.”
“What about Ciri?” Triss stepped closer, raising her shoulders slightly like she wanted to tuck her head into them. It was her please-hold-me posture, and Yennefer knew it well by now. She reached for her, wrapping her arms around her waist, still holding her gaze.
“We’d have to talk to her about it first, of course,” Yennefer murmured, gently reassuring her. “but she likes you. And I want this, Triss. Waking up next to you, arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash or what to watch on Netflix. Beautiful, boring, ordinary—but I want that with you. Every day.”
Triss was silent for a long moment—long enough that Yennefer started to worry again. Then she smiled—not the bright, giddy smile Yennefer had expected, but something softer, more thoughtful, blooming slowly on her face.
“We should think about it seriously. Talk to Ciri, but carefully. No pressure on anyone.” Triss reached out and looped her arms around Yennefer’s shoulders, stepping closer. “But yes, I’d like that too. There’s no need to rush. What we have—it’s real. It’s strong enough to wait a little while.”
“We can take all the time we need.”
“In that case,” Triss said, her smile now lighting up her whole face, “I’ll seriously consider that spaniel if the offer still stands. Pontar might like the company.”
Yennefer didn’t say anything more. She just kissed her, pulling her close, exactly the way they both liked best.
While the sound of running water drifted down from upstairs, Yennefer fetched a small gift bag from the closet. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow morning… She set the bag on a shelf and pulled out a salt lamp—a large, rosy chunk of salt on a black base, which glowed softly when plugged in. Perfect for the evening. She began to set everything up, realizing that for the first time in years, winter felt cozy instead of just cold. Everything felt more alive, more colorful, more worth celebrating.
When Triss came downstairs, she found the living room transformed. The couch was covered in soft blankets and pillows arranged with the kind of casual precision that only came from effort. The coffee table held steaming mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows, a plate of cookies, and a few candles from their shopping trip, now lit and casting the room in a warm, flickering light. The salt lamp sat on the sideboard closer to the couch. Pontar had taken his favorite spot on the rug, this time near the radiator, looking like a very content polar bear.
“It’s beautiful,” Triss whispered, settling onto the couch and immediately arranging the pillows behind her. “I told you, you’re a romantic.”
Yennefer just shook her head.
“Quick shower and I’ll be back to you.”
“The bath’s all ready for you,” Triss laughed. “I had a surprise of my own. Take your time.”
Yennefer went upstairs, and sure enough, the bathtub was filled with hot, raspberry-scented water. She knew Triss had been teasing her with that scent ever since learning how much it affected her—but she didn’t mind. She relaxed in the warmth but couldn’t bring herself to linger long, not with Triss downstairs, wrapped in soft blankets and glowing firelight. When she got out, her skin was perfectly smooth and moisturized from whatever Triss had poured into the water. She put on the white shirt—the one from that infamous vacation photo. Triss adored that shirt, the buttons, and everything she could do with them. And Yennefer adored her like that.
She descended the stairs slowly, finding Triss bathed in the warm light of the candles and the soft glow of the salt lamp. She meant to sit next to her, but on a whim, she lay down with her head in Triss’s lap. It should’ve felt vulnerable, but instead it felt safe. Protected. Triss’s hands immediately found her hair and started to massage her scalp. Yennefer pulled a white blanket over herself.
They had planned to watch a movie, but ended up just talking, while Triss absentmindedly scrolled through Netflix’s film suggestions. First they commented on the choices, then the conversation naturally drifted into heavier topics. That was how it usually went with them now—and Yennefer no longer feared it. Even when they started talking about her new job starting in January.
“Are you nervous about the training work?” Triss asked, her fingers trailing through Yennefer’s hair in a way that always made her feel completely undone. It was too gentle a gesture for its effect.
“Not really. Teaching first aid isn’t exactly high-stress. It’s not like a real rescue operation, where every second counts and lives hang in the balance.” Yennefer closed her eyes, speaking slowly, savoring the touch. “I’ll probably get nervous when I’m actually standing in front of a group in January.”
“You’ll be amazing. And sexy. Very, very sexy,” Triss whispered teasingly. “I’m going to be so jealous of everyone getting to watch you demonstrate CPR techniques and mouth-to-mouth.”
“You have nothing to be jealous of,” Yennefer replied, her voice soft.
Triss shifted, and Yennefer opened her eyes to find her gazing down with a look that was suddenly serious.
“Are you happy? With a woman, I mean. I know I’m your first, and sometimes I worry that maybe you’re just… like this isn’t really what you want…” Triss’s voice was low, laced with a vulnerability that tugged at Yennefer’s heart.
“We've talked about this, Triss,” she reminded her gently.
“I know, I know... I'm sorry.”
Yennefer sat up, turning to face her properly, needing her to see the truth in her eyes. “Triss. Look at me.” She waited until those blue eyes met hers. “You’re the one everyone stares at when we’re somewhere together. You’re brilliant, you’re gorgeous, you glow. What if you meet someone more joyful, more energetic… younger?”
Triss blinked, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oh, Yen. You’re not old, stop with that. I don’t want another version of myself. I want you. Always you.”
“I want you too,” Yennefer murmured, her voice thick with emotion. She reached for Triss’s hands and held them tightly. “Only you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been more… emotional lately,” Triss admitted, her gaze unwavering.
Yennefer gave her a warm, honest smile.
“You’ve always been emotional, Merigold. And I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s okay.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping just a bit, eyes glinting. “And I’m sexy only for you. Just so we’re clear.”
Triss let out a breathy laugh, some of the tension finally easing from her shoulders.
“Good. Because you are. And I’m keeping you.”
Yennefer pulled her close, holding her. They settled back in to watch something mindless on Netflix—a light-hearted holiday comedy, funny enough and with a plot simple enough not to demand too much attention. But Yennefer found her eyes drifting toward the hallway, where the gift bag was tucked away in the closet — waiting
Maybe now was the right time. They were comfortable, relaxed, wrapped in warmth and soft light. And Triss had just had a vulnerable moment—maybe she needed more words. And maybe… maybe Yennefer could give them to her. If she was going to do this—and she absolutely was—there couldn’t be a more perfect moment.
She finished her hot chocolate, got up to put their mugs away. But instead of returning to the couch right away, she walked to the hallway closet and retrieved the gift she’d been planning to give Triss for weeks.
When she came back, Triss was watching her with curious eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Something for you,” Yennefer said, sitting back down next to her, close enough that her knees rested against Triss’s thighs, suddenly more nervous than she thought she’d be. “I... sometimes forget that you need words. Like now. And I’m not always great at finding them.”
“You’ve actually been doing pretty well lately.”
“Sometimes.” Yennefer handed her the bag, then hesitated. “But I have a confession first. A secret that’s been eating at me a little. Something you deserve to know…”
Triss immediately looked suspicious, her journalist instincts kicking in with flawless precision.
“What secret, Yen?”
“At Crach’s bonfire, I read something in your notebook. I shouldn’t have, but the words caught my eye and I got pulled in and…” Yennefer took a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy, and I should’ve told you right away, but… I don’t know. I guess I got scared.”
“What did you read?”
“I think it was a song. With my name at the top of the page and a little paw print sketch.” Yennefer watched as Triss’s face flushed. “Do you remember?”
“Oh. That.” Triss looked embarrassed, the kind of self-consciousness that came from someone seeing something deeply personal. “I’m sorry about that, Yennefer. It was… probably unprofessional. And maybe a little childish…”
“It was beautiful,” Yennefer said firmly, needing Triss to understand how wrong she was. “And I kept thinking how receiving something like that—even if I found it by accident—meant I should respond with something just as meaningful. So I thought… I felt like I needed to write you a song, too.”
“What?” Triss looked utterly baffled.
“Well… there are things that deserve to be met with something equally… beautiful.”
“So… you had to write a song? You know you didn’t, and...” Triss started, her voice edging into concern, maybe even a little sadness. Yennefer panicked slightly.
“I wanted to, Triss. I had to, and I wanted to, oh...” she groaned in frustration. “I wanted to see if I could do it, if I could find a way to tell you what you mean to me in your language, instead of always just giving you mine.” She pointed at the gift bag with trembling hands. “I started and stopped a few times, but one night I just sat down and wrote the whole thing. It’s not very good, and it’s definitely not my specialty, but it says what I wanted to say. It’s my answer to your song. And I want to give it to you. You deserve it. I didn’t feel obligated, I really, truly wanted to.”
Triss gave a small smile, and the suspicious expression faded from her face. She opened the bag slowly, carefully, pulling out a beautiful leather-bound notebook adorned with delicate, hand-painted flowers and closed with a magnetic clasp. A ribbon held a pen in place along the spine, and colorful bookmark tabs peeked out from the bottom. It was thicker and slightly larger than a standard journal, and the entire thing looked expensive, thoughtful, and exactly like something Triss would adore.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, running her fingers over the cover like she was afraid it might disappear. The awe on her face completely transformed her expression. The atmosphere shifted too, and Yennefer let out a quiet breath of relief—but she knew it wasn’t over yet.
“The song is inside. But it’s… very personal, and I’d rather you read it when you’re alone,” Yennefer said, her voice coming out smaller than she meant. “I think watching you read it might be too much for me. It means a lot… maybe more than I know how to handle.”
Triss looked down at the notebook, her hands trembling slightly as she held it.
“You really wrote me a song?”
“Is that the end of the world?” Yennefer tried to joke.
“Definitely the end of the world,” Triss said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “But I think I’m at least partly to blame…”
“Partly?”
“I’m not taking more responsibility than necessary.” Triss carefully set the notebook on the coffee table, treating it like something precious and fragile. “I’ll read it later. Maybe tomorrow. Even though I’m dying to know what’s inside…”
“That’s why I love you, you know?”
“What? Why?” Triss looked at her confused.
“I love you for the space you make. You never push. You let me have my weirdness.”
“You let me have mine too,” Triss murmured, shifting closer, her fingers finding the collar of Yennefer’s shirt.
“Yours are adorable.” Yennefer lifted the corner of her mouth in a smile, feeling the tension between them start to build again.
“And yours,” Triss replied, slipping her fingers under the fabric and tracing along Yennefer’s collarbones, “are just... you. And you, Yennefer, are tempting.”
“Tempting?” Yennefer echoed, her breath quickening.
“Mhm.” Triss dragged her finger down her neck, stopping at the first button. “Especially in that white shirt. The one from vacation.”
Triss’s eyes darkened, her smile shifting into something deeper. The change was subtle but undeniable. The same hunger Yennefer felt stirring in herself.
“So, what now, Triss?” she asked, her voice dropping lower.
Triss leaned in close, close enough for Yennefer to feel her breath on her skin. Her gaze was intense, as if she could see through every wall Yennefer had ever built.
“Right now,” she said finally, each word sending a pulse through Yennefer’s veins, “I want more.”
Her fingers found the first button of Yennefer’s shirt and began to undo it. Slowly. Then the second. Then the third. The air between them thickened.
“Triss?” Yennefer whispered.
Triss met her eyes.
“I want to make love to you,” she said simply.
Those words stole Yennefer’s breath. Heat bloomed low in her belly. Familiar and yet somehow always surprising, a desire only Triss ever seemed to ignite.
“Then maybe we want the same thing,” she replied, her voice a breath.
“Just maybe?” Triss’s lips hovered over hers.
They were soft when they finally touched, still tasting faintly of the hot chocolate they’d shared earlier. The kiss began cautious, searching, as it always did when the tension between them crested.
But caution faded quickly. Yennefer’s hands threaded into Triss’s hair, pulling her close. This kiss was a bit different. Maybe it was the talk about moving in together, the exchange of gifts, or just the quiet magic of the evening.
Triss’s hands moved with memory over her body, always surprising Yennefer with the precision with which she could find every sensitive place. She pushed the shirt open but didn’t remove it, fingers trailing over exposed skin, making Yennefer shiver and press closer.
Triss straddled her thighs. The soft glow of the candles and salt lamp cast a warm radiance over her skin, making her hair shine like copper. She was breathtaking in that moment—confident, focused —and Yennefer felt something fierce rise inside her.
I’m not letting her go, she thought, sharp and clear.
Not ever.
The soft fabric of Triss’s pajamas was warm under Yennefer’s hands as she drew her closer, needing less space between them. Her fingers found the hem of Triss’s top and lifted it slowly.
When the fabric slipped away, revealing pale skin and freckles, Yennefer bent to kiss the scars along Triss’s chest
“I adore you, you know that?” Triss murmured, threading her fingers into Yennefer’s hair and pressing close.
“I love you too,” Yennefer whispered against her skin, needing her to hear it now, exactly like this.
Then she felt Triss gently push her down, laying them both onto the tangle of blankets on the couch. She let it happen for a moment — but only a moment. She had no intention of being passive tonight. Not when everything in her burned to show Triss just how deeply she was wanted.
She knew her lover. Knew Triss liked to start things, to set the pace, but also knew Triss loved it when someone else took the reins. And Yennefer loved giving her exactly what she wanted, before she ever had to ask.
They sank into the softness, Triss above her, resting on her elbows and smiling as she kissed her in short bursts, like she couldn’t help herself.
“You look like you’re lying in snow,” Triss murmured, gazing at her against the white blanket — though her eyes stayed dark with want.
“And you,” Yennefer replied, brushing her cheek, “you’re like an avalanche that fell on me.”
Triss leaned down and began to kiss her neck, finding every spot that made Yennefer’s breath catch. She let her, for a few heartbeats, basking in the closeness.
But only for a few.
With a swift, fluid motion, Yennefer reversed their positions. Now she was above, with Triss lying beneath her, red hair fanned out across the blanket. The scattered pillows and throws surrounded them.
The look on Triss’s face—surprise, mixed with hunger—made Yennefer’s chest ache with satisfaction. She could see the words forming on her lips, but Triss didn’t get the chance to say them.
Yennefer leaned down to kiss her again, it wasn’t just hunger that guided her—it was pure love. Triss’s hands found Yennefer’s back, her fingers tracing the familiar curve of her spine through the soft fabric of her nightshirt. Yennefer responded instinctively, her own hands threading into Triss’s fiery hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until their breaths mingled into one.
“I feel so safe with you,” Triss whispered against Yennefer’s lips, a soft, breathless sound that made Yennefer’s heart clench. A small laugh escaped her, full of wonder.
Yennefer kissed her again, saying everything that words could never capture. Words had had their time, she thought, as her hands began their own conversation with Triss’s body. Now I want to do what I do best.
Her fingers found the familiar places—the curve of Triss’s neck, the slope of her shoulders, the tender skin beneath her breasts. She wanted to show her how loved she was, how much she mattered. How deeply Yennefer craved her. More with each passing day.
The heat between them built, and Triss’s breath came quicker under her touch, her body responding to every move with that instinctive honesty that always left Yennefer in awe.
She felt Triss’s heartbeat race beneath her hands, felt her skin grow warmer, felt her tremble from even the lightest caress. She watched as her eyes fluttered shut, as pleasure overtook her, her lips parting with a quiet gasp. Yennefer knew every sign, every reaction—and still, they thrilled her, as if she were discovering them for the first first time.
In the hush of the dimly lit room, they let the night carry them the rest of the way.
***
The next morning, Yennefer woke up to an empty bed and groaned in protest. They had moved upstairs sometime during the night, in between kisses, collapsing into the warm bed exhausted, satisfied, and utterly content.
Downstairs, she found Triss making pancakes and coffee, already dressed in soft loungewear and looking like she hadn’t slept in a while. She practically radiated nervous energy, the kind Yennefer recognized immediately, the kind that always meant she had something important on her mind.
“Good morning,” Yennefer said, slipping her arms around Triss’s waist from behind and pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck. Her skin still smelled the same. That scent that always made Yennefer want to be even closer.
“Good morning,” Triss replied, not turning away from the pan.
“How long have you been up?”
“A while. I made coffee and took Pontar for a quick walk. It’s cold out there.” She nodded toward the window, then turned to face her in Yennefer’s arms.
“When did you adopt my dog?” Yennefer raised a brow.
“I adopted you both as a package deal,” Triss said with a smile that didn’t quite mask the buzz of anticipation underneath.
Yennefer held her a moment longer, savoring the ordinariness of it all, before sitting down at the kitchen table. That’s when she noticed the notebook next to Triss’s coffee mug and the way Triss couldn’t sit still for more than a few seconds at a time.
“All right,” Yennefer said, her stomach suddenly full of butterflies. “Just say it.”
“Say what?”
“You’re buzzing. I can practically feel the energy from here. You read it.”
Triss blushed, caught somewhere between embarrassment and excitement.
“I did. This morning. I couldn’t help myself. I woke up, and it was just sitting there, and I was so curious…”
“And?”
Triss looked at her for a long moment, then broke into a soft smile.
“I’m mad at you.”
Yennefer blinked, her heart skipping in a way that was definitely not pleasant.
“You’re what?”
“I’m mad that you wrote something so beautiful. So honest. So perfectly, ridiculously poetic.”
The relief was so strong it made her dizzy.
“You’re not actually mad.”
“No, not mad. But… Yen. That song.” Triss shook her head, as if still trying to process what she’d read. “I don’t even have the words.”
“You don’t have the words?” Yennefer teased, hiding behind the humor, trying to deflect the rising tension in her chest. “No way.”
“I know!” Triss sat, reached across the table and took her hand, fingers intertwining. “It was like reading something I thought I felt… back then, but written in your words. And your words are sharp, precise, and beautiful. Like you. It was just so you… that song. I don’t think it could be more you.”
“It’s not… I don’t know. Embarrassing?”
“No.” Triss didn’t look away. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“I thought rescuing you in the mountains was pretty impressive,” Yennefer teased.
“Rescuing me in the mountains was very on-brand for you and totally expected,” Triss admitted. “The song wasn’t. Even though it’s somehow also totally you. I wasn’t even sure you could open up like that, let alone wanted to.”
Yennefer swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with physical nakedness.
“I didn’t think I could. I’m not a poet, I’m not… creative like that. But one night I started and… it just came out.”
“You wrote about falling in love like it was a disaster. But also… like that disaster saved you.”
“How many times in my life has that been the case?” Yennefer laughed softly.
“I’ve got you now, you know that…” Triss said gently. “And I know now that you know that I know. And that… oh, Yen, it’s just so wonderful.”
“Too many ‘you knows’ in one sentence.”
“Because it’s important,” Triss laughed. “Are we a walking disaster?”
“I can’t describe it any better.”
“Good,” Triss whispered, her eyes suddenly glistening. “Looking back at everything now… I really get it. And I feel it, Yennefer. Thank you for taking the risk.”
“Thank you for your patience. And…” She paused, remembering Triss’s song. “For being willing to wait even longer, if I’d needed that.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t have to. That we’re here now. Together.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Outside, snow continued to fall, blurring the world beyond the windows into something soft, private, and perfect.
Then Triss stood, walked around the table, and pulled Yennefer into a full embrace. She melted into the embrace, cherishing every moment of it.
She didn’t mean to fall in love.
Not really. Not again. And certainly not like that.
But love, it turned out, didn’t wait for permission.
There had been a moment—months ago, maybe even that first week back—when she’d thought of all of this as an avalanche. Not because she was destructive, but because she had no choice once it started.
It began quietly with a word, a gesture, with simply being. And then it gathered speed, faster than she could brace for. Until she couldn’t run, couldn’t slow it down, couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t happening. She had flown with the weight of it, swept away by something stronger than her fear.
And now, when she thought of Triss—when she held her, kissed her, whispered her name into the softest hours of the night, Yennefer knew.
The avalanche wasn't created to destroy her. But to force her to feel. To stop pretending she didn't want more. To give in, not out of weakness, but out of hope.
The avalanche didn't bury her. It swept away the ground she'd thought was solid.
It made her fall. And falling meant letting go of control, of certainty, of the walls she'd spent a lifetime building.
Triss was there waiting to catch her, holding her exactly like now. She was strong for her when she needed strength. They complemented each other, completely different but fulfilling each other's needs. Naturally.
What she wrote that night wasn't planned. Just like the love wasn't. But it felt inevitable, like gravity.
She looked at the notebook while nuzzling her face into Triss's shoulder and pressing her nose against her neck. She never regretted this fall.
***
“Falling like an Avalanche”
Steady ground beneath my feet,
Silent years in calm retreat.
Then you came with warming light,
Melting walls I built so tight.
I feel it crack, I feel it shake,
Each fragile wall begins to break.
An unseen force, it takes control,
Breaking apart my shielded soul.
I'm falling like an avalanche,
No safety net, no second chance.
A force too strong to pull away,
It takes me where I cannot stay.
Will you be there to catch my fall?
To hear my voice, to take it all?
Like snow that slides with fierce embrace,
I'm falling for you in this place.
Always knew just where to step,
Every thought I kept in check.
Then you came and changed the view,
Now my world revolves 'round you.
Trained to save, not to be saved,
But here I am, feeling afraid.
Of all these feelings running wild,
Like storm that leave me weak and blind.
I'm falling like an avalanche,
No safety net, no second chance.
A force too strong to pull away,
It takes me where I cannot stay.
Will you be there to catch my fall?
To hear my voice, to take it all?
Like snow that slides with fierce embrace,
I'm falling for you in this place.
But you changed the path I knew,
Now my compass points to you.
Hold me steady through this slide,
Be my anchor, be my guide.
I'm falling like an avalanche,
No rope to hold, no second chance.
Can't stop this force that pulls me down,
In chaos where I might drown.
Will you be there to catch my fall?
When I surrender to it all?
Like snow that slides down mountain's face,
I'm falling for you in this place.
The snow keeps falling, can't resist,
Like your love I can't dismiss.
If I must fall, then let me fall,
Into your arms,
I'll risk it all.
Notes:
How do you feel? 💜💙 I’m genuinely curious how many of you made it all the way to the end.
Writing this ending turned out to be harder than I thought. The song was supposed to appear in different moments throughout the story, but in the end, I chose to place it right here — for you to interpret, in your own way. And maybe… that was the best possible choice.
As for the songs—this one, and Triss’s too—I owe everything to a friend. I could never have translated them this way on my own. Lyrics are one thing, but fitting the rhyme and syllables in another language? That’s a whole different challenge. He helped me shape it — and it turned out beautifully. Maybe even better than I expected. Thank you for bringing my Polish verses to life in English.
And now… a little personal note. I wasn’t planning this — I didn’t have a schedule, just wrote whenever I could (and I happened to have some time). But today, as I finish posting this story… it’s my birthday. And honestly? Having written this story — beginning to end — feels like the most wonderful gift I could give myself.
And maybe, just maybe, to you too.Thank you for being here with me. I love you all — you know that, right?
Take care of yourselves — not just in the mountains, but everywhere! ❤️
Hope to see you next time!
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