With the key around her neck, the maid closed the house. She took a pile of fine clothes that was packed on the porch and lifted the many folds of her dress to not get it muddy before they departed.
Oswald already knew where they were going, he could only pray for Tom to be alright. Only when he saw the healer's door did he wonder about Tom's side of the story. 'Me and my family, we're dead if he remembers about yesterday...' He thought, thinking about Meryl's strange behavior.
Bedridden on the first floor, the chimney warming up the place, Tom leaned in a large bed with soon-to-be-replaced bloody bedsheets.
Tom's arm had doubled size, it was blue and red with makeshift stitches. The many bandages he had wrapped around his belly locked his elbow, limiting the moves he could do with it.
Next to the bed, a man dressed in a blue attire, around one meter and seventy centimetres tall, embroidered laces around his neck, probably incapacitating him from looking left and right. The brown hair he had was long, tied in a curly-fashion way, it was strange looking. His name was Florentino, a wholesale merchant, mastermind of a large network in the county.
The man came as fast as thunder to Oswald, shaking his torso with his soggy hands.
"That's you right? His friend? Why is my son leaning on a bed? You should've brought him back if it was this late!" Florentino's nerves popped out of his forehead. Even though the best merchant was more patient than a monk, touching his son's hair was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Only when Tom stopped him with a muffled voice did he let go of Oswald's thick shoulders.
"You can't blame him dad, he had no clue." Tom said.
Florentino's hands brushed his greasy hair, making the mess stay in the shape he left it. The thing he often grabbed to manifest his rage was certainly a wig.
"Those rascals! To think they'd come to assault you to send a message to the family! I've had enough of them! If they want war, they'll have it! Quick, I must send a letter to Rose, she has to shorten the wheat supply from the eastern county and raise the prices on iron stocks. This way..."
Florentino continued his monologue while exiting the house. Tom was his first and only child, if he was to pass on his business, he'd ignore his wife to give his son all means to be successful.
"Get out." Ordered Tom, staring at the maid with dead eyes.
"Oh! It's nice to see you! You've got me darn worried." He exclaimed toward Oswald once she left.
"I'm the one supposed to say that." Oswald replied, still not knowing about what truth did Tom tell everyone. "Do you... Remember everything that happened?"
While Tom nodded, he pointed at his arm and said. "First time I break something, quite an impressive pain to be honest. It was hard to explain why there was a hand printed on my skin though."
Oswald was embarrassed. After apologizing a dozen of times, he said. "I guess there'll be no more knife-throwing since you're right-handed. I can't properly tell you how sorry I am."
Shaking his head left and right, Tom replied calmly. "Two months and it'll work anew. It's quite a clean fissure, the healer said I was lucky. I can still call you Ozzy right? I hold no grudge for this, only questions that accumulates with each minutes you're staying here. You are-"
"I understand." Oswald cut him short and added. "I'll talk to you about it, once we're alone." He added coldly. Tom's head tilted left while the teen silently walked to the door.
Boom. His fist hit the door where the maid's ear was glued. Her little whining confirmed Oswald's doubts, and added one question to Tom's list.
Few kilometers away up in the valley, Ruth's parents discovered with horror the marks on their shutters. Two... Three. Dariel hadn't seen a thing, and his wife's description was probably corrupted with the faith of her religion. But the mark was taboo and too high for their daughter to reach, even to Dariel. Either someone was toying with their faith, either they had huge worries to fight against.
"It said what it said! It already came to her room, we can't let the beast take away our Ruth! It's preying on her every day ever since her birth! Why do you think it wants it so bad? What have we done to the great creator to have the devil snatch her from our arms?"
Dariel's lips moved, yet no sound exited his mouth. His wife, Daniela, could read him perfectly along with his gestures and the micro-expressions.
"Why are you putting me in cause? You're listening to it? That exactly what it wants! She's still here because she knows her holy verses like the back of her hand. Come on, give me a hand, we'll burn all the bad wood once it's unclipped." She said, hanging on the marked shutters with all her weight.
Ruth was never told what had happened that night.
When he came back home, Oswald wouldn't even talk to his mother, Meryl had a plain face while she toyed with her doll.
It was time for the boy to go hunting. Around his house, there were no new traces of wolves, nor Adelmo. The lack of snowfall the past week allowed the most used paths to appear, mud covered the alleys and black dirt stained the white snow.
He managed to kill two boars in one night, with only one knife, he had to go far away from the village to find them. He left a trail of blood where he started to drag both of them, each around thirty kilograms, they were a little young.
Under Oswald's request, his clothes were repaired by Meryl, and the ones he borrowed were brought back to the tannery.
When he came back to Revel, early in the morning to the butchers' shop, Adelmo was here too, the man spoke.
"I saw Dariel yesterday, he said he'll make more traps, we'll have to cover a larger territory, the pack hunts too close to the village."