The only signs of where she went was the dancing light from flames of an oil lamp. It was set on the kitchen table and she sat at a chair, her hands neatly folded before her and her head down. There was no sign of movement, and the only possible weapon within reach of her was the lamp.

She had no idea he'd returned as she sat there. There was no sound other than the quiet flame as it continued as if nothing had happened. The woman looked wilted, her shoulders drooped and her head nearly touched the table when it hung low.