"Did you really think that I would help you just because you brought back something of mine that you stole?" the witch barked. She took her medallion and rolled the lanyard around her fingers and then rested her hands on her hips. "You three must be denser than you look! I have every right to take this back and let my minion devour you!"

Horace and the other Cutthroat lowered their heads in shame, but Narrita stepped forward, her eyes a misty red as she pressed her hands together as if she were ready to plead. "Please... Miss..."

"Gertrude," the witch said sternly.

"Miss Gertrude. Please. Could you just hear us out?"

The witch lifted her arms to cross them in front of her chest. "We don't get much company here. But when we do, they're usually terrified the moment they see our trees. Either that or they rob us. So I suppose it couldn't hurt to hear you out seeing as how I don't get much interaction from others."

"Thank you," an exasperated Narrita replied.

"Don't think this means I'll help you out with your little pet problem."

"Pierce wasn't a pet," the Cutthroat leader replied. "Pierce was one of us. But he was murdered. Taken before his time, right in front of our eyes!."

"Unfortunate," Gertrude replied, her tone shifting from irked to placid. "But that is how the world works. People murder." The witch then looked at Narrita with a furrowed brow. "People steal. It is just a fact of life."

"I know, I know. But people also find ways to get what they want. They act resourceful. They bargain. They ask for forgiveness."

Gertrude pointed towards her wrinkled face. "As you can see, my time is quite limited. Tell me what it is you want. I don't want to waste precious moments of my life listening to you try to butter me up!"

"Fine! Show her what we've brought, Horace!"

The man inched forward. He placed the bag he brought along on the ground between him and Gertrude. He unfastened the string and let the contents spill out. The witch raised one eyebrow as she stared at the assortment of jewels and fabrics that lay on the ground beneath her.

"All of that is yours," Narrita said, smiling. "And we can even get you more if you'd like! We just have one favor to ask of you. And I think you know what it is."

"Not interested." Gertrude turned her back to the Cutthroats' offerings. "I have no use for any of that rubbish."

"What?" Narrita exclaimed. "How much will it take, eh? Me and my gang can round up any amount that you want if you agree to help us out!"

"Do you know what you're asking of?" Gertrude turned behind her. The witch's sudden mean glare from her beady red eyes made Narrita freeze in fear. "You ask for my service as if I am a mere artisan. Necromancy isn't something that should be taken lightly, woman. If you knew what was best, you and your men would gather up your belongings and head back to your home."

"Listen, Gertrude!" Narrita advanced, pointing at the witch as her face turned serious. "We're not leaving without Pierce. Alive. We walked all this way, brought all this stuff and we are not going back without a fourth member to our party."

"Is that so?" the witch replied. "I suppose you understand necromancy then? Because I will not be helping you. The only way that snake of yours is coming back to life is if you cast the magic yourself!"

"If you tell me how to do it, I gladly will!"

Gertrude chortled. "You act like it's learning how to sew or even cast the most basic of spells. It took me decades to understand the craft, and even at my age with all of my experience, there is still much that I have to learn." She looked at the undead wolf beside her. "There are many rules. Limits. Intricacies that make even the simplest summoning is a challenge. Even if I were to start teaching you today, by the time you would even be able to make an attempt at bringing your friend back, his body would have long since decayed into nothingness."

"And that's why we're asking for your help! We don't want anything to go wrong. We just... want Pierce back. And we'll do anything for it!"

"No. Necromancy is a dangerous art. Besides, if word were to come out that I can successfully bring back the dead, our home would become inundated with desperate folks like you looking for us to bring back their loved ones."

"Don't you understand how wealthy you could be? You could make untold fortunes reviving armies. Royalty. Anything!" Narrita walked next to the witch, staring at the crooked shack obscured by the overgrowth. "Yet you want to live out in the middle of nowhere. Think of how much better you and your daughter could be living if you sold your expertise!"

"You are truly ignorant of what it takes to bring the dead back to life. My services are not for sale." Gertrude stepped towards the door to her shack until Narrita jumped in front of her, her arms spread apart as she blocked the entrance.

"There's got to be something you want! Everybody has a price!"

Gertrude opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes became fixated as she stared Narrita's blouse. "That," she said, pointing towards the center of Narrita's chest with a bony finger. "What is that you have hidden away underneath your top?"

Narrita looked down, slowly lifting the Beacon she wore. "This thing? You want this?"

The stone at the bottom of the necklace glowed brightly, making Gertrude's eyes open wide as she leaned in for a closer look. "Tell me. Is there anything special about that necklace you're holding?"

Narrita's hand darted back, hiding the amethyst stone by obscuring it with both hands. "So you know what this is, huh?"

"That must mean you know what you have in your possession as well. I never thought that I would see another one in my life, let alone one that I was compatible with."

"Compatible? You're saying that you have a special connection with this thing?"

Gertrude walked up and grabbed the amethyst stone, angling it to show it towards the Cutthroat. "Does this stone look peculiar to you?"

"Yes!" an exasperated Narrita replied. "The rest of my gang thought I was crazy! Are you talking about how it glows?"

"That is exactly what I meant. That means there is something special about you." The witch turned around and looked at the bag containing Pierce's body. "Perhaps there is something that we could arrange. Go grab the body of that snake and meet me inside. There is much that we have to discuss!"

"You heard her, fellas!" Narrita said with a long grin. "Looks like the Cutthroats are finally getting back together!"

"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you," Gertrude said. "Just because I have invited you into my home doesn't mean I can, or even will, help you. There are a lot of factors to take into consideration. Necromancy is a very fickle. I'd highly recommend tempering your expectations."

"Of course. Sorry for getting ahead of myself."

Gertrude entered the shack first, leaving the door open wide enough for the other three to walk in. A thick scent of rot combated the fresh and natural aromas of the outdoors, taking the Cutthroats back. Pinching her nose shut, Narrita stepped further inside, her eyes becoming fixated on the myriad of objects that were placed into the confined area. Every wall was lined with shelves, with each spot housing a peculiar item. From jars of fluid housing animal parts to bags containing vibrant plants, the witch's home was filled to the brim with ingredients for all manner of spells and potions.

Edith watched the Narrita and her men walk in, eagerly running up to her side while holding onto Mister Cuddles. "Are you going to help him out now?" she asked, lifting the rabbit up to show to Narrita. He stared back at her with his one living eye.

"Of... course..." she stammered, taking her eyes off Mister Cuddles to check Gertrude's reaction. The witch squinted towards her, practically scolding her with her gaze along while resting her hands on her hips.

"What did you tell my daughter?" the witch bemoaned.

"Err... nothing. Just that I would be able to help Mister Cuddles. As you can see, I love animals." Narrita slowly moved her hand, brushing back the thin white hairs of the animal's head. "See? I can make his fur shine."

"You said he was sick!" Edith said.

"Oh, so that's what you told her?" Gertrude replied. "What exactly is wrong with him if I might ask?"

Narrita paused. She looked at the rabbit and then at Horace. He shrugged his shoulders as he timidly stepped towards the shack's exit. Realizing that she wasn't going to get any help from her men, she begrudgingly faced the witch again. "Just... look at him. You can tell that he's not like other rabbits with just a single glance."

"Anyone can see that," Gertrude replied. "But what would you be able to do to make him better?"

"That would require a bit of research and examination." Narrita let out a weak chuckle.

"Hmm. I think Mister Cuddles is just fine, Edith," Gertrude said softly.

"Really?"

"Yes. I think Narrita here was just concerned. Now go ahead and go to your room for now. I need to have a conversation with our guests."

"Yes, Mother." A more chipper Edith ventured further into the small home, going through a door on the opposite side of the shack. Once she was gone, Gertrude looked at the Cutthroats again, making no effort to hide her annoyance.

"Don't lie to my daughter again," she said with a wag of her finger. "Do you understand?"

Narrita nodded and the others nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Good." She then walked towards the large and round wooden table that sat in the middle of the room. She began taking off the jars, bags and other trinkets that covered the surface and stacked them on top of her other belongings that lined the shelves behind her. "I know you are desperate, so I will forgive you this one time. But any further lies will result in discipline."

The witch pulled out a creaky oak chair and sat at one side of the table. With one hand she gestured towards the seat on the opposite side. "Now, have a seat. Let's cut the chatter and get right to business."