[It's easy to lose track of the hours, here. Their camp is quiet and dark and tucked away with the perfect viewpoint of their purpose: the Paintress and her glowing number. It's a constant reminder of their purpose. Maelle counts herself fortunate to be here--especially given the start to their expedition--and her hand brushes over her armband and the embroidered 33 as she approaches Gustave where he sits. She's given him enough time to write in his journal, she thinks, but still walks on the toes of her boots until she's certain she's not interrupting a thought.]

I'm surprised you haven't used all the pages yet.

[Maelle doesn't wait for an invitation before she sits beside him, feet dangling over the edge of the cliffside. She leans over into his space, purposely obnoxious and very aware of how her ponytail must be going right up his nose, as if she's trying to peep at the pages.]

Your apprentices are going to eat each other alive to be the first to read this.

[If he makes it back. If they defeat the Paintress. If any of them make it back. If any of those boys grow up, come here on their own expedition, and find a thoughtfully penned journal by their mentor. But Maelle keeps the if at bay. Gustave has such hope for the future, and here, in this place, she can't bring herself to be contrary.]