Although Viktor had lost consciousness, Domovoi was shrieking loudly nearby, hopping on his talons and flaring his wings in agitation. Yuuri couldn't hear his thoughts, of course, but he was talking so fast, and in Russian, that Himari couldn't even keep up enough to translate. Yuuri barely even had time to voice his concern before the bright white light flashed again, this time transporting all five of them, creatures and Makkachin included, into a cabin on the easternmost side of the village, far removed from the borderland.
Away from the dark forest, the dense, oppressive atmosphere and the heavy silence lifted. The village could have been any normal human village within the last few centuries or so, except that the kitchen and appliances were relatively modern. Dom hopped to the back of a chair, nipping and pulling at Viktor's sleeve with a plaintive whine. Even Makka was distressed, barking and putting her paws against Yuuri's arm. Viktor's head lolled against Yuuri's shoulder, but he was breathing; shoulders were rising and falling shallowly.
The strip of jacket Yuuri had used to staunch the wound came away bloodstained, standing out sharply against Viktor's silver hair, but interestingly enough, when it was pulled away, there was no actual open wound in his head, only a sharp, throbbing bruise. Several interesting things were going on here at once; one, something had inexplicably saved them from those nightmare creatures, and then chosen to move them out of danger's path. Secondly, it appeared that same something had also closed the wound on Viktor's head; not entirely, but enough that he was no longer hemorrhaging or losing blood, and it appeared far less serious than it had been a moment ago.