The more Noah counted, the fainter Elann became. It was minorly amusing, and as he reached two chime fulls of seconds, she went completely limp. He looked at her, examining her features in the light. In the white illumination, her darker skin, still fair, was much lighter and his own was nearly fluorescent. He had seen how the brilliance of her eyes would grow tenfold in the gem’s light, though he could not see it now through her closed lids.

Noah felt her desire piquing and could imagine her heart leaping in her chest as his advance. His own was dormant and controlled, he was looking at toying with her as a game, her reactions being his consistent rewards and encouragement to continue playing, regardless of the ending outcome. He didn’t know how long it took for the cook to sound the call for dinner, thus didn’t know how long he truly had to play his game. He did know they had once managed to wait long enough for Aimee to aid the hunters in tracking down squirrels and hares before cooking dinner though.

“Elann,” he said in a sing-song way. “Elann,” he sang again, “my love, come back to life.”

Elann didn’t budge, staying true to her  supposed death. Noah stood straight again then squatted just before the bench. Then, he reached for her, poking at her side, evoking a grunt of stifled laugh from the Benshira. He poked her again, bringing forth another. He looked at her legs, reached for her, then watched his hand smooth up her shin, over her knee, and then her thigh, bunching up the dress’ skirt as it went.