Adrian shifted in and out of consciousness as he rested there, struggling to see and understand all that was going on around him. A woman was talking to him, he should have known who she was but he could only just make out his name being spoken. It was all growing a worrying dark and red colour at the very edges of his consciousness, but he clung to wakefulness with a reckless abandon, somehow knowing that to sink into sleep might be the last thing he ever did. Dimly he then became aware of both Pavel and Vasily around him, and felt somehow comforted that so many actually cared about him, at least, he had a few moments of genuine pleasure before his name was mentioned once again, and then everything became white hot pain and his body shook, he almost fainted then.

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

Anton was infinitely grateful that Adrian had decided to drink so much that night, watching his barely conscious brother writhe in pain from the alcohol suggested what sort of suffering he would have to endure tomorrow when the numbing effects of liquor abandoned him. He set his jaw resolutely, glad that more competent men and women in this regard had taken over, and hovered cautiously over them all, nodding his thanks to Chiudka, Pavel and Vasily in quick succession.

“Thank you.” He said aloud, though worry was plain on his face and he kept looking back and forth in quick succession at the door, waiting expectantly for Viktor’s return. It was only a short while after Adrian was all bandaged up and nodding in and out of consciousness that he did so, and Anton was watching over his now considerably improved brother so he missed that first glance of whiteness and shock as he ran inside, almost knocking over a few of the others with his massive bundle of blankets. He came straight to their sides, laying a blanket over both Grigory and Adrian he tapped Anton on the shoulder and with a sinking heart the youngest brother noticed his near uncontrollable shaking.

“Mother, Father?” Anton asked in a suddenly quaking and small voice.

“They’re… missing.” Viktor said, his eyes darkening at the implications of his own words. Anton looked down at the floor in shock, before a small hope filled him.

“Not dead?” He asked suddenly, and Viktor looked at him strangely.

“No.” He said, and they both looked at each other in that way only brothers can when they are acting truly as family, something one rarely finds outside of crisis. They sat down and began to talk, hurriedly, nervously looking over at the activities in the tavern and aiding anyone who asked them for help. After a short while Viktor handed his blankets to Anton to hand out among those who couldn’t or wouldn’t return home for the night and then resolutely set to the task of carrying David’s body from the tavern, laying it close to the Pyre. It was going to be a long and dark night for what remained of their family.