Peter isn't really injured at least, so there's that? He sort of stands off to one side, gingerly setting down the pieces of Héctor's guitar. Also his ruined backpack.

"It was my fault," he says with a guilty wince. "I - my uncle attacked us."

Some monstrous form of him, but Peter is still 100% sure it had to be his uncle. There's no other explanation. He looks for a chair to collapse into for a moment; he's thoroughly exhausted. And still aching from spending all that time too close to an anti-undead charm.