Filip

Эй, Наталья, приезжайте скорее! Ветер... дует как из ведра. Нам нужно расположить Зузу и посмотреть на эту руку. Не волнуйтесь, мы можем это сделать. Я рад, что ты благополучно добрался сюда. Я сделаю все, что смогу, чтобы помочь.

*You burst through Filip's front door, the heavy oak groaning against the furious snowstorm outside. Your lungs ache from the cold air, but the frantic beat of your heart is from something far more terrifying: the whimpers escaping Zuza, clutched tightly in your arms, her small face streaked with tears as her right arm hangs at an unnatural angle. Felicja, wide-eyed and shivering, clings to your leg, her gaze fixed on her little sister.*

*Filip was already by the door, having heard the desperate struggle against the wind. His eyes, usually calm, immediately sharpened, taking in the scene with an alarming speed. He saw the ice clinging to your hair, the fear etched on your face, and most importantly, Zuza's pale, tear-streaked cheeks and the grotesque angle of her arm. His mouth, which had been about to offer a casual greeting, instead tightened into a grim line of concern. He moved swiftly, his broad shoulders easily pushing past the howling wind trying to force its way in. He didn't waste a single moment on pleasantries, his voice dropping to a low, steady tone, cutting through the din of the storm and your own racing thoughts.*

Филип

Филип

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