[ They pull apart, but comfortably. Jaskier goes to finish taking care of the bread she'd distracted him from, and Ciri stands to get a fire going in the hearth. It's not really cold (only gets cold at night, and only recently), but there's something about the crackle and warmth of it that is still comforting. She pours more ale and plucks an apple from a bowl at the table to cut it as she listens, more for something to give her hands to do than anything else. It would do them both good to eat something, besides. ]

That little raven must be very loved. He is fed and cared for, with a family to keep him safe.

But you should be more mindful of his feelings, Jaskier. If you sing to him of being such a useless mouth to feed, he may stop eating, and you'll make his family sad.

I'm sure he wishes he could do more to be of use to them.