He was a good twenty minutes late, maybe even more, but time didn't matter, time didn't matter at all to him at the moment. He hadn't even bothered to remove his blood-stained coat and skirt, splattered not only with his own, but soaked with poor Adith's.
The adrenaline had gone from his body, sapped him, and it was only the sense of duty that had him there now, and not at him home, at Adith's bedside. The doctor had given the boy a draft to send him to sleep, and with that done had cleaned the wounds and re-set the broken leg. Ribs had been bandaged, as had the horrific wound to his shoulder, but it was that wound that frightened George so much. It was not the fact that Adith was lucky to be alive, but the fact that, in a month's time, the boy might be undead.
"Tell me about werewolf bites." He said as he managed to get to his chair, grateful to settle into it when he could no longer carry himself. "Because I have just witnessed a young man mauled, almost to death, and it is not something... something that anyone should witness." He said nothing else, leaning back in the chair and greatful for it's support. He had wanted to shout, to curse, to demand Isiah turn over whatever creature had attacked out there in the fog, but now he found himself without the energy, without the will.