The Weaver's Source

Chapter 92

I expected to simply curl up and sleep once Grigore and I got Nanat home, hopefully in his arms if he wasn't still angry with me. I didn't expect the mess we found at all.

The moment we turned down the road that led us rigidly to the smithy, Grigore stiffened and his song curled. Worried, I pulled Nanat closer to me and touched his arm.

"What's wrong?"

"I smell blood." He said stiffly. "But there's no threat nearby." His gaze shifted to me, silently asking for me to voice my opinion.

"My magic is calm." Or as calm as it could be with the recent events. The attack of the she-wolf had shaken it terribly and it still shivered with terror. But there was no nearby threat.

"It should be safe then. Just keep Nanat close to you."

I observed the little girl that quivered beside me and she gazed up at me with weary eyes and a bright red nose. She looked exhausted.

"You're nearly home now." I murmured to her as I squeezed her hand.

She simply nodded and rubbed her eyes and guided her slowly as Grigore set off again, dangerous and alert. While one hand remained on Ursus' hilt, the other was clenched with wards littered around his skin. It made me scared as to what we were going to find at the smithy. Everything should've been safe there, No-Tongue had locked the place up himself.

I paused when someone came out of the house and turned madly to look up and down the street. When they saw us, they waved us madly over to him. It was Wilson.

Nanat perked up at the sight of her father but she could only mumble, not jump about with joy as she wanted to. "Papa."

Grigore started up again, urging me to follow with a sharp wave of his hand. Wilson oddly refused to move from the house though. He kept glancing at it and then at Nanat, torn between leaving the doorway and going to his daughter. Once we were in earshot, he knelt down and called to Nanat. It was only then I noticed the blood covering his hands and shirt. My gut twisted with worry.

"Come here." He called thickly with tears in his eyes, smiling widely when Nanat waddled over to him as quickly as she could. "You're safe now." He whispered as he held her tightly and checked her face for wounds.

"What's happened?" I asked softly.

Wilson turned his old eyes up at us and what little joy that was there was now gone. "Grigore, do you know healing wards?"

"My partner was the healer out of us." He said a little stiffly with his eyes darkening at having to mention Sorin. "But I know the basics."

"Come with me." He demanded as he hauled Nanat up, nearly toppling over when his leg gave way slightly. When Grigore offered to take his daughter, he shook his head madly and thudded inside. It was when he turned I noticed a cut to his head.

I followed closely and quickly covered my nose when the stink of blood filled the air. I glanced about the kitchen. It was a mess. Chairs lay littered around and several pots were broken into several pieces. Long black smears of blood covered the wooden floor. My heart dropped at the sight. I wasn't sure if someone could survive from that amount of blood loss.

"Jen!" Wilson bellowed.

His eldest responded instantly and the faint tapping of feet could be heard upstairs. Soon Jen was sweeping down the crooked steps. She too was red eyed from tears, her face bruised purple and blood spattered her dress.

Jen was about to speak until she saw Nanat in Wilson's arms. Tears welled up and she rushed to her father.

"Nanat!" She wailed with relief.