Vasily could feel a numbness creeping over him that had not a thing to do with the frigid cold of the night. It was a numbness that wanted to leave him stunned, paralyzed, impotent to do anything but stare speechless and helpless before every new horror the trio passed. But the warm, weeping, softly sniffling bundle in his arms was his touchstone, his whole reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

He whispered gently into Antonina's ear, to keep her eyes closed tightly. Vasily could feel her tears freezing against the bare skin of his neck, seeping beneath the fur collar of his coat. The silken feel of her golden curls tickled his bare cheek as she nodded that she would, that she was a good girl and would do as her Papa said. Nadejda walked beside him, a hastily thrown thick-woolen cloak over her shoulders, much of her face shadowed beneath the fur-trimmed hood she had pulled upward. 

Some small, selfish part of Vasily was almost glad he could not see the sadly haunted eyes of his mother-in-law. He was not proud of that thought, not in the least. And yet the combined grief of all Adishi, flooding from the windows and doors in a tide of stricken cries and wails, pain-wracked sobs and helpless groans, was a cacophany of mourning that had already begun to gouge into at his nerve, with all the subtlety of a scratch awl before the coming of the blade.

And Vasily knew very well, that the night's work had only just begun.

Petya had already left, Vasily could only assume, to find the members of his hunting band - and for once, he did not fault his little brother for the choice. If any kind of fortune still favored Adishi, these strong young men might have escaped the worst of the black tide's predations, and would return to help... 

Vasily sighed, and hugged Antonina just a little tighter, kissing the top of her hooded head once more. They would return to help the [i]survivors[/i]. Inwardly he cringed at the thought, but his steps did not slow as Nadejda trod beside him, moving toward the tavern. For whatever reason, this seemed the place many of the still-living migrated toward, the center of a grievously wounded village - though if Vasily was any judge, it was unlikely even this makeshift sanctuary remained without its own casualties.

He watched men and women dash past its once-barricaded doors, his bearded face grim. "Nadejda, take 'Nina," he said finally, reluctantly prying the little girl's arms from about his neck, whispering soothing, soft words to his daughter. Vasily met Nadejda's forest-hued gaze, the very same color she had given her long-lost daughter. And just as with his sweet Anna, there was no need for words to pass between them. He suspected that whatever might have happened in the tavern was far worse than the quiet darkness of the midwinter night without, and their beloved 'Nina had seen far too much already. Nadejda took her granddaughter into her arms with a nod, cradling her as her father had and keeping her small, stricken face hidden in the warm safety of her own neck and shoulder. They would wait in this patch of golden light on the snow before the tavern, for his return.

Vasily turned to clear the stairs, entering the tavern just as young Tjasa dashed past, so intent on whatever errand she had in mind that she noticed him not in the least. He let her pass, and then walked into the abattoir that been made of the Adishi tavern. 

The coppery scent of blood assaulted him the moment he entered, turning his stomach though he kept on, grim blue eyes darting about the tavern's confines and the carnage within. He frowned with sympathy as... [i]Bogdan[/i], yes it was Bogdan clutched the limp, bloodied body of his once beautiful dog as he wept. But Vasily's practical mind would not let him dwell on the passing of an animal when there were so many more human friends injured, dead or dying in the black tide's wake. 

Chiudka's familiar, slender form leaned over one of the too-still bodies. Swiftly he took a knee beside her, hoping to catch her doe-eyed gaze as he ignored the puddle of cooling blood that was soaking into his pant leg. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked as he lay his hand on her shoulder, peering toward her stricken face. This gentle woman might very well be the closest thing to a healer Adishi had, beyond the witch on the mountain. But that woman - or women, by some accounts - was too far afield to be of much good to the village she was supposed to watch over and had, by all accounts, failed spectacularly this midwinter night anyway.

"I can move our people for you if need be, help to lift - "

That fresh, agonized scream sent Vasily's skin to crawling, blue eyes wide and his heart in his throat. He glanced to Chiudka, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze that was more an unspoken promise, that he would return. Swiftly he leapt to his feet, turning to sprint the length of the tavern to the stairwell just beyond the common room door. 

"Oskar!" Vasily cursed under his breath, falling to his knees once more and pulling the young man close when he realized it was Stansislav lying there, barely recognizable beneath his hideous wounds and all that blood. "Damn it all," he hissed furiously. No, he not angry in the least with the grief-stricken young man, but at all the pointless suffering this night, a relentless tide of pain that already seemed damn near endless. Slowly, Vasily rose, and then bent to take Oskar's wrists in both hands, to gently pull the young man to his feet. 

"Oskar," he began again, his voice gentled now, soothing and calm as he'd learned to speak with his Antonina. "Come away Oskar... We will take care of him... "