Geralt waded into the fountain, ignoring both the man running and his friends on the ground. He took Jaskier's chin in a hand carefully to lift it for a look-- the bard was clearly high on adrenaline-- but it seemed that at worst he'd have a bruise in the morning. Geralt turned his attention then to the horse.

The horse who shook a mane-full of water in his face.

With a dark sigh, Geralt lifted a hand to wipe his eyes and brought his fingers to his lips to give a quick and piercing whistle. The kelpie's head whipped in his direction, ears pricked (as probably had most of the horses in the neighboring barn) and Geralt held up a palm for it to look at as he turned to Jaskier. "Sing to it," he hissed. "Get it back to the barn, Jaskier. Now."