As Petya aided Oksana, Pavel retrieved his torch from the snow, and fell into step beside the two. His eyes scanned through the forest as he walked, back and forth from one shoulder to the next, looking for any faceless threat lurking amongst the trees. It was a fruitless, and somewhat absurd endeavor; if the black wave, or something equally sinister and ethereal returned, there was little he could do about it. Still, as the silence of the wood and the empty dirt roads enveloped the little party, there was little else for Pavel to occupy himself with anyway.
Pavel shivered against the cold. His coat was still draped across Oksana’s shoulders, and his woolen jerkin provided little resistance to the mountain wind. Pulling his hat down farther atop his head, Pavel set his jaw, and willed the cold to trouble him no more. There was much more to press upon his mind than the cold, and at any rate, the tavern was just up ahead.
The trio closed the distance up the hill to Adishi's main square quickly enough, even with Petya supporting the injured Oksana. As they came near the large timber building, Pavel recognized Vasily Vukašin’s daughter and mother-in-law standing in the lamplight just outside. His throat immediately tightened, his eyes narrowed, and he glanced about the square for a sign of Vasily. By now it was an automatic response that Pavel could only really control if he thought hard upon the act. He felt a twinge of shame as he wiped the look off of his face. Now was not the time to scratch at the memory of past wounds—though such was easier said than done, as two direct reminders were standing in the snow before him.
As Petya and Oksana reached the tavern, Pavel quickly moved forward and swung open the door for them. The sounds of chaos escaped immediately out into the night air, and Pavel cringed.
The horror of this night is just beginning, he thought as Oksana and Petya moved past him to venture inside.
Shutting the tavern door, Pavel turned back to where Nadejda and Antonina stood amidst the cold and snow. Even in the dim light of the lamp hanging from the tavern eaves, Pavel marveled at how much both the elder and the child looked like Anna. From their eyes, to the golden ringlets of hair, the angelic features, and the near flawlessness of alabaster skin, the two of them together held all the beautiful ingredients Anna had exemplified.
As he looked to the woman and child, Pavel felt a familiar pit grow in the bottom of his stomach. The memories, and the all the possibilities that blossomed from them, tried to gnaw forth into the forefront of his mind. But, once again, Pavel forced those feelings away.
Now is not the time for such things, Pavel! He chastised. Let it go!
Stepping forward, Pavel bent down to offer a concerned smile to little Antonina.
“Hello, Nina,” he said, lightly touching the girls chin with his mittened fingers. “Are you unhurt? Can I get you anything?”
Pavel looked up to Nadejda as he finished the last question, being that it was directed mostly to her. As his cherry eyes looked up at the elder woman, Pavel’s mouth strained into a thin line. He hesitated before continuing, torn upon the decision to ask the question that lingered upon the tip of his tongue.
“And Vasily?” Pavel said at last. “Is he all right?”