The change was subtle at first, Jillian noticed, how Gerald’s smile slowly vanished, how the light in his eyes gently died, how his limbs became frozen in motion. The sudden coldness that reigned in Gerald’s heart also chilled the air around him, and Jillian sensitively took in the frigidness; a small shiver ran down her spine and her smile left too.

[i]Gerald?,[/i] her voice echoed in her mind, sounding lost and confused. What did I do wrong?

They had been playing thus far, passing arguments and accusations almost like an old couple might have had, but this was no game any longer. Gerald was sincere in his disappointment and apparent shock, and Jillian could not understand what had caused it. How could she, after all? The necromancer had argued moments ago that he needed not share the reasoning behind his intentions in order to make the latter clear, and that same philosophy held true, for he would certainly not tell the witch of his tragic fate, not yet, not now, and still she would have to suffer the repercussions thereof.

In this moment of petrified silence, Jillian felt as if she were a mere girl again, perhaps twelve of age, being caught doing something she was not supposed to. It was an uncomfortable, cold void within oneself, a feeling of dread that came from the expectation of dire consequences for actions that cannot be undone. Gripped by a very similar feeling, she stared at Gerald, waiting for… anything. Would he reprimand her? Explain himself? Would he beat her? Yell? Would he do nothing at all? It was impossible to tell, and it frightened her.

Eventually, Gerald abruptly stuffed his pendant back into his shirt, still eerily staring at the witch with an expression she could not interpret sufficiently, before simply getting up and leaving. That was all: he turned his back to her and left, saying no single word. It was the height of impoliteness, and Jillian could not even bring herself to feel upset about it, the entire situation felt too unreal and disturbing to worry about such trifle things. She stared after him for a while, until the voice in her mind left through her frail lips:

“Gerald?” she asked, confused and almost frightened. He did not respond, too caught up in his own mired thoughts. More, painfully long moments went by before Jillian’s voice was heard one more time, this time more vehemently and authoritative:

“Gerald!” she yelled firmly, abandoning the role of the lost child to assume that of the scornful mother. He, in turn, sat down by the flickering fire, taking his place amongst the dark shadows dancing all around it like outcast spirits who found companionship amongst themselves. Only then he elected to speak once more.

“I stole energy from the forest itself to restore us,” he admitted soberly, bearing little emotion or judgment in his words. He briefly summarized what said energy would entail for them before falling silent once more.

She did not want to just let it go and talk about something else, not after he had cut her so, but she also knew that the window had closed, and there was nothing to be bargained for at the time. [i]You have a lot of skeletons in your little closet, necromancer, and I’ll tear them from it one by one if I have to,[/i] she ambitiously and bitterly thought while glaring in his direction. Although this new information which he divulged was also interesting in its own right, there was no room in her head for it right now. Playing the offended, Jillian took one last, large sip from her cup before setting it down and getting up, still wrapped in her blanket. Annoyingly she did so a little too quickly, and she felt momentarily so dizzy that she was afraid of falling, but was able to stay on her two feet for long enough to adjust after a bit of swaying.

“I’ll take a bath by the lake,” Jillian announced, her voice sounding offended and harsh, “and I suggest you do the same before we break camp.”

With that, she trotted off towards the lakeside where Elder Renold still lay, pulling her blanket over her shoulders.