Makka and Domovoi both joined Yuuri on the bed; Makka stretched out on the corner and laid her head across Viktor's left foot with a whine, and Dom settled near his side, nipping gently at his sleeve and making odd cooing noises. They sat like that for awhile, the atmosphere tense in spite of the day outside going on like normal. There might even have been voices nearby, but no one bothered them in the house, and at some point Dom rose from the bed to shuffle across to the window instead, presumably to keep watch.
It was at least another twenty minutes before Viktor woke again, his eyes fluttering and then wincing in pain. The bruise on his head was swollen, almost grotesque and easily visible under his thin shock of white hair. It didn't seem to have gotten any worse, but it was no better either; Dom turned his head as Viktor opened his eyes and let out a sound that Viktor percieved as a query.
It took a moment for the world to right itself, and the room to stop spinning slowly, but in spite of his pounding headache, Viktor managed to look around the room and spotted Makkachin at the foot of his bed. His memory of exactly what had happened was vague and fuzzy, but he remembered the creatures (he would never forget those, unfortunately), the dark forest, and Domovoi putting himself between them in spite of being far outmatched. Dom fluttered back to his side and Viktor's expression softened a little. "Spasibo, Dedushka,," he said out loud, holding out one arm to stroke the feathers around his face. Domovoi curled under his arm, seeming relieved; Viktor held him close, and he could feel the tension in Dom's shoulders relax. Makka lifted her head and her tail wagged a few times; she put a paw on his leg and he smiled at her, too.
"No more running off, shas-t'ye," he told her, scratching her ears. He lifted a hand to touch his head (very tenderly) and looked up at... wait, there had been someone else there too. A young man, the same one sitting on the edge of the bed now. Viktor thought he might remember a name, but at the moment, it escaped him. "I... thank you," he said again, in English because he definitely didn't look Russian, and English was as good a fallback language as any.