Lena woke up in the Commander’s quarters in the old Pale Pass Fortress after a long and restful sleep. Her trip to the Fade and subsequent wraith exorcism with Geralt left her thoroughly exhausted. She stirred in the bed and listened for any sounds from the other rooms, but all was quiet. Geralt must still be meditating. Lena got up and walked over to the kitchen where she had left him by the fire the night before.

He was still kneeling in front of the fireplace, his eyes closed. The poisoning caused by his potions and decoctions had all but cleared, and his skin looked almost normal again. Now he just looked tired. “So much for witcher meditation being restful” – thought Lena. “It doesn’t replace sleeping in a bed.” She added a fresh log to the embers and cast a fireball at it as quietly as she could, but Geralt’s eyes opened, regardless. “I’m just rekindling the fire” – she said in a hushed voice, not sure whether her brother was still meditating. His eyes closed again, so he must have been.

Sitting there in the kitchen pecking at some stale bread and overripe cheese, Lena absent-mindedly glanced over the vials of witcher potions set out on the table – many empty – and Geralt’s satchel propped open with more vials inside. Vials and an old map – a map of the Northern Realms.

It was a piece of a larger and undoubtedly fancifully decorated map, but Geralt was only interested in the geography, not the fancies – at least not of that kind. It was a war map, and Geralt had made some annotations of his own. Lena folded the map to focus on the annotations.

Gors Velen and Flotsam in Temeria and Kaer Morhen all the way in Northern Kaedwen. Kaer Morhen – the seat of the Wolf Witcher school, Geralt’s home. He even traced the fortress icon in ink – he missed it, Lena thought. She had never been to Kaer Morhen herself, having spent her time in Northern Temeria – from Flotsam to Velen, following the war, following Geralt, trying not to make him feel like he’s being shadowed by his little sister mother hen. Coming to Skyrim meant leaving his home behind, and it must have been hard, in particular now that the old fortress of Kaer Morhen lay all but in pieces. They were no longer training new witchers, the old halls already felt empty without the young voices, but there were still enough of the old witchers around for drunken adventures during the long nights of the winter months… Would the fortress rise again? Would the Wolf school rise again? It all seemed very problematic. Perhaps if Geralt had not left… But he had. Was there ever a way back?

“What are you doing with that map?” – Geralt’s voice brought Lena back to the reality of the Pale Pass Fortress. He looked almost refreshed after his meditation, the toxins now completely flushed from his blood.

“Reminiscing…” – Lena raised her eyes to him. “The same as what you are doing carrying it around with you, I expect” – she smiled. “You miss it” – she pointed at Kaer Morhen. “That I understand. But why Flotsam and Velen? There was nothing there but death and misery.”

“You were there, for one” – he smoothed out the map. “I learned I had a sister, it was a big thing. And Velen – you followed me there, you know what took place.” He smiled at her and winked. “Or did you think I never noticed? Waking up with bandages all over could only mean one thing – you put them on.”

“It could have been Keira Metz!” – Lena protested, hinting at Geralt’s fling with Keira, or may be rather her fling with him, but at any rate Keira was a good friend who would have bandaged Geralt without hesitation, especially if it involved removing his clothes first.

Geralt laughed but didn’t argue. “Where do we go from here?” – he asked eyeing stale bread and runny cheese with suspicion. “I’ve just cleared poisons from my body, I don’t want to eat that.”

“There’s an old inn just on the other side of the mountains” – Lena rummaged in her bag producing an apple for him instead. “It’s abandoned, but I stocked it up last time I was there – it’s not far from Bruma. Roach likes it – it’s got stables and hay. And a bath house.”

“Roach has got good taste – yours and mine both!” – Geralt gave her a broad grin, devouring the apple. His horse was also called Roach – in fact, it was his habit to call every horse he owned Roach. Lena was now doing the same, and she couldn’t explain why.

“All right, then we should not tarry. What do you want to do with that?” – she pointed at the scroll with their father’s letter that they had found here.

“I’ll take it” – Geralt stashed it in his bag. “We might need it in Falkreath.”

“Falkreath?”

“That’s where you wanted to go, wasn’t it?”

Yes, this is where Lena wanted to go to search the Legion Archives for any records about their father. It all seemed so far away and so long ago after her trip to the Fade… It must have been reflected in her face, because Geralt looked at her and frowned.

“You need to put that trip to the Fade behind you, don’t let it eat at you like that” – he looked concerned. “You are back, you are here, and I am sorry for having put you through it – it was too much, I think. I should have gone myself.”

“Yourself?” – Lena jerked back to reality. “And fought the wraiths there? Out of the question.” She glared at him for making such a preposterous proposition. A contest of sibling rivalry – or sibling over-protection – was in full swing. Geralt was about to make a suitable retort, but then changed his mind.

“Well, it’s good to see you are really back” – he grinned. “Come – I want to explore that bath house!”

…

It was late afternoon when they finally made their descent on the Southern side of the Jeralls and saw the roofs of the old Pale Pass Inn in the valley below. Lena’s Roach knew about the hay in the stables and picked up the pace, and Geralt’s Roach followed suit sensing good things ahead. The inn looked untouched since the last time Lena stayed there, for it was completely out of the way of everything, and no one had any reason to go there. Geralt wasted no time chopping the wood for the bath house – he was serious about his baths.

“This looks like a proper Nordic bath house” – he remarked with satisfaction. “Bring the mead – you need a soak too.”

“When was the last time we sat by the pool like this?” – Lena asked, descending into the water. “You know you’re supposed to sit by the pool and not in it?” – she grinned at her brother.

“The Nords don’t know what they are missing” – he stretched, returning her grin. “As for the last time… And you wonder why I marked Velen on my map?”

The night was young and memories were filling the room.