He looked dumbly at Chiudka, just barely understanding what she was trying to tell him, but finding himself unable to find anything more valuable to say to her. It was Oskar that provided the first few words that gave any assembled a tangible target for their distraught anger, though once again it took Adrian a moment to understand what he was saying. The blood running down his back from the claw wound on his right shoulder was starting to seem more and more dangerous. 

[i]Father… Witch…[/i] Adrian clung to the words, the first clue in unravelling the terrible event which had befallen the town. He shook his head, trying to clear the darkness that was settling in the corner of his vision. 

“Viktor… you have to go and find out… that you.” He couldn’t quite form a coherent sentence, but worry drove him to finish what he had to say as Viktor shuffled over to him near Grigory. “Viktor go check on Mother and Father… they were all alone.” He gasped, leaning against the chair but still mindful of the farmhands wound, waving Viktor worriedly away. The eldest didn’t question the orders delivered by a younger brother, his own sudden realisation driving away any sense of pride he may have felt usually as he dashed out the door, torch in hand.

-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-

Anton stared worriedly at his brother and friend, Adrian wasn’t looking good what-so-ever, David was dead, it was almost too much to bear. He had also forgot about their parents, but Viktor’s glance told him to stay with the wounded so he did what he could until Chiudka could see them dealt with properly. Until then there wasn’t anything much they could do, and neither of them were likely to be leaving the tavern until morning at the earliest, Grigory would probably be incapacitated for a week. “Viktor!” Anton shouted, catching his elder brother just before he left the tavern. “Bring back some blankets or something eh?” He said, surprised when his brother nodded in acceptance, it was an unfamiliar feeling.

Anton brushed one hand through course black hair, his young features sudden illuminated in the flickering fire, he sighed as he looked over at Adrian, watching his eyes droop.

“Weren’t you supposed to be good at handling your liquor, being a brewer and all?” He jested half-heartedly, pushing Adrian who snapped to attention like one caught napping in class. A smile flickered on his lips for a moment, before being snapped away by the reality of the situation he was so cruelly dragged back to.

“S’not the alcohol, I’d out drink you any time brother.” He slurred, and Anton suddenly noticed the red stain running down his brothers back. He jumped to his feet and look closer, his eyes widening. 

“Lord above Adrian, why didn’t you say anything?” Anton looked at the wicked tears in the back of his brother’s shirt with something close to dismay, it was like he’d been mauled by a bear.