“I didn’t drop it on purpose!” Ghent took a precautionary step back as Elayra stood, any trace of her smile completely gone. His eyes widened as she began to belittle him, this time with no underlining warmth in her words. He clenched his teeth, glaring toward the ground at his side. Just like that, they were back to square one.
	“Seriously?!” Ghent wasn’t petty enough to take his apology back, but he was sorely tempted. He couldn’t keep up with Elayra’s mood swings, her inability to keep things peaceable between them for more than a few seconds. Everything he did angered her, and it was beginning to chip away at his sanity.
	Gripping fistfuls of his damp hair, Ghent turned on his heel and made the decision to create distance between them. He took a breath, staring at the river heatedly. If the terraflames were attracted to negative emotions, he and Elayra were beacons in the dark. 
	Overhearing brisk footsteps, Ghent turned his head to see what the girl was up to. He tensed when she approached him with her saber, but rather than engage him in a fight, she tossed the weapon down at his feet. He bristled at the comment of him losing the weapon, her sarcasm practically radiating off of her.
	“Whatever.” It was lame and uncreative, but it was the only response Ghent could muster. Snatching the saber by the hilt, he stalked over to the supplies and plopped himself down with a heavy sigh.
	Unwinding a strip of bandaging, Ghent measured a piece long enough for his wrist. His eyes flickered up to see Elayra standing near the edge of the river. He watched as she seemed to debate with herself whether or not to go in, but then she took the first few steps into the water.
	Refusing to cave, Ghent returned his attention to the medical supplies. He wasn’t about to stop her, and he didn’t feel like offering to help. If she asked nicely, he would have, but she didn’t ask nicely. Instead, she accused him.
	Setting the saber down with a gentle thud, Ghent laid the strip of bandaging on his knee. He grabbed the cloth and stole another glance in Elayra’s direction.
	[i]I didn’t lose it,[/i] Ghent reassured himself, returning to the origin of their most recent squabble. [i]I dropped it on purpose so I could help her! [/i]He frowned at the bottle of the moondrop milk, inspecting it a moment before relaxing the lever in order to remove the stopper. 
	“Nothing’s ever good enough, is it?” Ghent grumbled, his inner voice slipping out into the open. He wet the cloth with the moondrop milk, careful not to use too much. He didn’t need to give Elayra another reason to be upset with him.
	Folding the cloth in half, Ghent pulled his sleeve away from his wrist, the damp fabric dragging some of his blood with it. He bit his bottom lip, bracing himself before applying the cloth to his wounds. Elayra didn’t mention if the moondrop milk hurt or not, but nothing good ever came from Wonderland, so he anticipated the worst.
	To his relief, the moondrop milk didn’t burn. It tingled slightly as began cleaning the area, the sting from the injury intensifying slightly due to the pressure.
	Focused on the task, Ghent didn’t spare Elayra another glance, but he kept an ear out for any indication of trouble.