Chapter 3: Winter

“Time for yer graduation,” Harok said one morning in the eleventh month. We were walking and shivering through the streets together as usual. One of his hands held his cane, the other a dented metal bowl. To protect his paltry earnings against over-eager street urchins and pickpockets, he had a wooden cover made for it, with a slot just big enough for a thick coin or small gems. It seemed there were enough gentle souls out there taking pity on the smelly pile of rags.

“Graduation? You know how these things work down Below?” I asked in a wry tone.

In drow society, only Priestesses graduated. They had to sacrifice a living drow male as a sign of their devotion to our twisted goddess, the Chaos Queen, and as a reward for their offering, She sent a Handmaiden, a monstrous demon woman with eight spider legs, to show Her favor. Which consisted in the Handmaiden fucking the soon-to-be priestess until she was a sobbing, bleeding mess. No wonder our women were the most ill-tempered beings you could imagine. But the frenzied orgies surrounding there rituals were fun, some of the best times you could have as a male.

“Yeah, I heard o’that. But don’t get yer hopes up, Gheeran. Me ass is mine and mine alone,” Harok grumbled. “Nah. Ye’ll be brought to tha Land Gate and have ta find yer way back home. Once you can do that, there is naught I could teach ya.”

“We haven’t been there yet,” I complained.

“Yer wrong,” Harok chuckled. He tapped the tip of his cane against something. By the sound of it, it was large and made mostly of wood, like a huge door wing maybe?

“Wait, how did we—?”

“Ye shouldn’t just tag along. I told ye time and time again. Even with friends, always know where ye are. So. Be seein’ ya.”

“Hey, wait! You can’t leave me here!” I yelled, but I could hear his rheumy laugh receding, punctuated by the steady clacking of his cane. I debated if I should just call a Guard, to lead me back to the Toothless Godling, but then I shrugged.

A challenge? Good. I was blind, but I was still a follower of the Trickster and a proud member of Ya’tyrr’s fearless band of ne’er-do-wells. I wouldn’t let a rotting, stinking old gutter dwarf beat me.

With a grim smile tugging at my lips, I sorted my thoughts. Storm Harbour was also known as “The Crescent by the Sea” and the Craftsmen’s Quarter was near the southern tip of the city. Even if I had not consciously walked the way yet, I knew the basic layout of the city well enough. I could follow Trident Road up towards the central market and make my way along Temple Run.

But there were way too many people there. It was Market Day, and even with my cane, the masses milling down the road and on that huge plaza would be overwhelming. No. The thought alone gave me chills. To avoid the crowds, I could instead take the long way around, along the city’s walls and then cut through Scholar’s Rack, the district where most of Storm Harbours mages, alchemists and other practitioners of the arcane or scholastic arts resided. Yes, that ought to be a little easier to navigate. Even if I got lost there, I could make my way to the Fish Market by smell and find my way back home from there.

Whistling one of the latest tunes I’d heard in the Godling, I fumbled my way towards the wall and turned to the south. It was a long way and I had to move fast if I wanted to be at home before nightfall. I may have had contacts within the Guild, but there were enough desperate elements out there who just didn’t give a crap about gutting a Guild associate if they thought they could get away with it.

Rokun had mercilessly drilled me when I wasn’t out exploring with Harok, but I didn’t want to press my luck. Usually, these gutter rats came in gangs, and I was lucky if I could keep up in a one-on-one. Again, I wished for my ring, but Rokun was adamant in his refusal to give it to me. First, I had to prove to be able to make do without it. Gnashing my teeth, I lengthened my strides and made my way along the Wall Run, the small alley going along the city walls. Apart from a few Guardsmen on patrol, this road was seldom used, which suited me just fine.

The walk turned out more difficult than I expected. In the shadow of the wall, the frost had no chance of thawing and I found myself walking on a surface made up of slick cobbles, half-frozen puddles of water and whatever else people dumped into the road. Maybe I should have taken Trident Road instead. Braving the masses seemed like a better idea than this balancing act. Grumbling to myself, I stumbled on.

When I noticed the hurried steps, it was already too late. I tried to slip to the side, a maneuver I had had to master early on, to avoid reckless nobles racing their prized horses through the city or guard patrols thundering along in their armors, but I was far too slow. With a massive “thud,” the body crashed into me. I stumbled back, one hand going around the robed torso for balance. My foot landed on a patch of ice and slid out from under me, then I fell and felt something crack painfully in my lower back. The other party had wrapped their arm around my neck and that was the only thing keeping my head from shattering as we hit the frozen street together.

“Would you mind where you’re bloody going?” I complained. My ass hurt, my head hurt and the unspeakable wetness of the road was seeping through my clothes.

“I could demand—” he began, then stopped.

“You’re drow!” we exclaimed simultaneously. When I thought myself alone, I slipped into my own language, and it took me a moment to realize the other one was speaking Drow himself.

“Yeah, and I would be thankful if you would get up already. The cobbles are hardly comfortable,” I grumbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hadn’t seen you there, the sun had blinded me,” he said, disentangling himself. He got up, then growled, “What, my hand not good enough for you?”

I sat up unsteadily and lowered my hood. There was the familiar gasp of shock as he beheld my ravaged features, then I felt his hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then hauled me back onto my feet.

“For what? You didn’t gouge out my eyes,” I snapped, still a little irritated.

Instead of an answer, he murmured a few knotty syllables and touched my chest. I felt a slight tingling sensation course through me and the unpleasant icy wetness disappeared from my clothes, along with the smell of unwashed dark elf.

“What just happened?” I asked, rubbing my hurting tail bone.

“The least I could do, a simple Cleansing spell,” he said.

“Where were you running to in such a hurry anyway?” I asked him, patting myself down. No, I hadn’t lost anything, except my cane which was lying only the gods knew where. I shuffled around, hoping that my toes would bump into it.

“I was running from a few people out for my head. They saw that I was drow and decided a little mob justice for a raided village was in order. I have never seen those guys before, honest!” he complained, then stopped. “Hm, it seemed I’ve lost them. What’s your name?”

“You’re certain you’ve not been involved in any raiding recently?” I asked him.

“Honest. Actually, I ended up here when I tried one of my master’s wands.”

“The one in his robes?” I asked, my lips twisting in a frivolous grin.

“Oh, I got more than enough of that. No, I mean one of the unlabelled ones he hid in his desk. He couldn’t use them any more, not after my Disintegrate hit him. By sheer accident, of course.”

“Of course.” So, he was a mage, and an eager one, willing to advance his career any way he could. For us dark elves, it usually meant killing our superiors. I shrugged, then introduced myself. “The name’s Gheeran. And yours?”

“Kelonin, of House God’rae, at your service.”

I heard fabric rustle. I realized he was doing a little bow, one of those stupid drow rituals. He was showing me he wasn’t afraid to lower his guard in front of me. Which meant he was under the influence of some defensive spell or other. Then he straightened up. “Just a moment. Did you say ‘Gheeran?’”

Now it was my turn to tense. I slipped one hand under my cloak and willed the hilt of my dagger into it. Obediently, the weapon appeared and I prepared for a strike. If a stranger knew who I was, things could get nasty real quick.

“Ease up, man. I’m not here to hurt you. Don’t you remember me? Your House name is Ortyl, isn’t it?”

I would have raised an eyebrow in surprise, if I had one to raise. “You know my House?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember? We met at my sister’s Graduation. Gheleth?”

Slowly it was coming back. Ye gods, how could I forget her? Gheleth was a slip of a drow girl, quite petite, and she had barely survived the fucking the Handmaiden had given her. But just two hours after the blood had come off and her body had mended under the healing caresses of her sisters and mother, she was writhing on top of me, my rod embedded in her furiously grasping pussy, a second male was ploughing her ass, and then a slender dick grazed my lips.

“Now I remember. You couldn’t decide which mouth you liked best, mine or hers,” I grinned. “And you made a total mess of my face.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like us licking you clean,” he said. No, I didn’t mind that one bit back then. The four of us had one helluva night, until Gheleth decided the third drow had to die because he bit her too hard. After that, we left her alone, writhing in the blood bubbling from his slit throat and had fun elsewhere.

A few months after that particular night, Gheleth had requested both Kel and me as part of the patrol unit she was leading. Every dark elf is required to serve their community for a few years, to be tempered in the fires of battle. Most spend this time in a patrol unit, scouring the caverns around their respective communities for threats and opportunities for glory. Afterwards, one could join the military full-time, becoming part of the dreaded raiding units or return to one’s House. Or in my case, run away from it all.

Anyway, while travelling through the Depths, a rival House had launched an attempt on House God’rae, trying to improve their own standing within the city’s pecking order by wiping them off the map. For this to succeed, all members of the family had to die, so no one could press charges before the Ruling Council. Lucky for Geleth and Kelonin, I overheard two members of my patrol plotting their assassination. When they crept into the tent Gheleth, Kel and I were sharing, intent on slitting our throats, we were ready for them.

“Just imagine. After all these years we meet in this godforsaken place,” Kelonin laughed. I shook my head. And I thought finding a willing virgin in the wilds outside Storm Harbour was unlikely!

He placed an arm around my shoulder. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I guess. Have you seen my cane?”

“This thing here? Man, what happened to you in the first place?” Kelonin interrupted himself and chanted, the same spell as before. Then he pressed the cane’s clean and dry handle into my hand.

“What, you want to exchange life stories?” I asked. But then, did I have anything better to do? I could find my way home afterwards still, and a stint in a warm room, maybe something to drink wasn’t such a bad idea. Even with dry clothes, the cold was seeping into my bones. I had just enough coin to keep paying Zejka for the room, and buying thicker winter clothing was outside my budget. “What the hell, but you owe me at least a hot cider.”

“I can trump that. Self-made healing potion and hot cider, how’s that sound?”

“So, how does it feel, fucking a medusa?” Kelonin asked. We were in his small room above a bookshop and the smell of wood, leather and paper was everywhere. Rather nice, if you ask me. There was also the subtle aroma of spell components, that inexplicable mishmash of spicy and stinky every magician seemed to wear like a badge of honor. Well, apart from Shilana of course.

That woman only smelled of storms and rain, despite being a mighty spell-caster. I could also make out the distinct scent of alchemical ingredients, the sour note of preservative alcohol, exotic herbs and peculiar aromas you won’t find anywhere else but in the workshop of a poisoner or a wizard. As promised, Kelonin had given me a small vial of a bitter tonic which blew my aches away.

Occasionally, you could hear muffled voices from down below, when the almost-deaf book store owner argued with one of his customers. The fireplace crackled merrily, and we were lounging on his bed, sipping hot cider.

I smiled as I remembered Tissana, the medusa who had gouged out my eyes, writhing on top of me. Her scaly skin, rather similar to our riding lizards but infinitely softer, was dry and warm against my sweaty body, her firm ass pressed against me as I fucked her from behind. She was limber, easily able to crane her neck back and kiss me while my cock was buried deep inside her. Her tongue was slimmer, but much longer than a normal human’s, easily able to wrap twice around my cock when she was teasing me back to aching hardness after I came in her. And that was the scary bit.

I had known horny women before. Drow females are notorious for their promiscuity, their desire to birth as many daughters as possible. Every female under your roof was one more chance to win the Queen’s favor and thus one more chance to rule all other Houses of a given city. But Tissana, she was in a league all her own. I swear by the Trickster’s glowing eyes, once the infernal pain in my face had subsided, we only stopped when I fell asleep mid-fuck. I had to plead to her to find some food, and when she came back with freshly slaughtered meat, the first thing she went for was my cock again until I could ask her to roast the meat.

“So, horn dog heaven?” Kelonin chuckled.

I shook my head. “I was her slave, Kel. No amount of hot sex could change that. She tried to take my mind off my situation by pleasuring every fantasy I could ever imagine, but that one fact remained. I wasn’t there of my own free will, and she wouldn’t let me leave until she got pregnant.”

“Well, you’ve obviously managed to escape.”

“Yeah, after some trials and tribulations I was back with my band, but you know how our kind deals with ... my kind of problems.” I sighed, absent-mindedly caressing my scars.

“They must have liked you. Exile instead of euthanasia. My Mother would have slit your throat the moment you showed your butt-ugly face back home,” he said.

“You think they exiled me?” Way to go, friend. I had just accepted that maybe Ya’tyrr was giving me a chance to make myself useful.

“Either that, or you’re supposed to find a solution to your problem,” he reasoned. “Want another?”

“Sure, why not? I’m not sure if I can walk after that, but what the hell.”

“You can stay the night, if you want. I won’t mind the company,” Kelonin offered, taking the cup from me. I heard him clink around at his alchemy table and a few moments later, he placed another piping hot cup into my hands. I drank greedily.

“Solution, eh? The gods obviously won’t listen. At least the Moon Maiden won’t. A few friends tried, to no avail.”

“I heard Lady Desire grants any wish, provided you’re ready to pay the price,” Kelonin suggested.

I heard the rustling of fabric, then he climbed back into bed with me. I shuddered, remembering the necromancer Vorgha I’d met and killed while travelling with Arach, Shilana and Zentam, a wizard so corrupted, he was a rotting mockery of a man. Quite mad, too.

“Nah, thanks. That’s one particular deity I can do without. What exactly are you doing back there?” I asked when I felt his hands travel over my clothes, pulling open laces and straps.

“Helping you get comfy. Didn’t you say you were to stay the night?”

I chuckled and helped him by shrugging out of my shirt. His slender, naked chest, pressing against my shoulders, was a welcome sensation. Despite her friendly manners, Zejka refused any of my advances and nearly ripped my head off when I dared to offer coin in exchange for a hot night with her, and I hadn’t been desperate enough to solicit any of the few whores catering to the Craftsmen.

“Admit it, you’ve just bowled me over to lay me,” I murmured, finishing my cup and placing it on the floor past the footrest of the bed.

“No, the bowling over was an accident. Everything else though...” he whispered, licking my neck. “It’s been so long since I was able to wind down. I would never admit it to anyone else, but you remind me of home, in all the good ways.” His hand came around and caressed my chest, his fingernail tracing a circle around one nipple which went hard in an instant. I felt something else go hard as well.

If it was the memories of that Graduation night or the idea of spending the night with another drow exile, I didn’t know, but I respected my body’s urges. I turned in his embrace and hugged him back. He was stark naked and I could trace the criss-crossing scars on his back, mirroring my own.

There were many things drow males had in common. Most of us didn’t mind giving head or taking a rod up the back door, for two main reasons. Our sisters and mothers or even battle companions thought it a sure-fire way to humiliate us, to remind us of our place, which is down at the bottom of drow society, just above slaves and pack lizards. So, either you accepted it and learned to deal with it, or you ended up leashed to a pillar and whipped into submission. Not that complying to your superior’s demands would spare you from that fate, as the scars on our backs clearly showed. To be honest, being with a man was the only time when you could be somewhat sure of not getting backstabbed. We all suffered at the hands of our womanfolk, and that formed bonds which were stronger than our inbred paranoia.

His lips met mine and I could trace his face. Kelonin was soft, barely a hint of the typical drow angularity in his features. His hair was a wild, long mane and I buried both hands in it while we kissed. He moaned into my mouth as we writhed against each other. He broke our kiss first.

With shaking fingers, he pulled at the laces of my trousers. “Get this thing off you,” he growled.

“Oho, Kel the conqueror in full effect,” I huffed. Obediently, I raised my butt and let him slide my trousers off me, along with my loincloth. With a feral growl, he tossed them aside. I felt his hands on me, pushing and pulling. I got his hints and rolled onto the bed lengthwise, facing away from the wall. A moment later, I noticed him climbing into bed as well. I wondered what he was up to, then the tip of his cock slapped against my cheek.

“You really waste no time,” I chuckled, wrapping my hand around his member. His was slender and long and felt amazingly smooth. Like most drow males, he was circumcised, and by the gods, he was horny, his tip leaking over my fingers as I explored him. Kelonin had no intention of going slow. My rod was already between his lips and his tongue fluttered against me while his fingers caressed my balls, rolling them around in their sack. I sighed. Yes, this felt like the good times in the Fighter College where you had to be lucky or deaf not to hear the sounds of horny males helping each other to get their rocks off. It seemed mages had similar pastimes.

Kelonin gave a complaining whimper when I pumped his shaft, distributing more of his precum along the smooth pole. “Just take it easy,” I said, smacking his ass. “Where would be all the fun if I behaved like your little whore, eh?” To underscore my point, I licked his tip, just once, but he groaned as if he was very close already.

“Well, as a Trickster’s faithful, I can’t stand to see a fellow male suffer,” I whispered, teasing his dick with slight puffs of breath. He moaned hungrily, and then I felt my tip slide into his throat. Gods, he was eager – or desperate. Having mercy on him, I closed my lips around him and began to please him, a slow, gentle flicking of my tongue to his frenzied attempts of making me cum.

One hand held his dick under control, because Kelonin was already bucking his pelvis into my face. I needed to show him who was boss here, so I dipped my other hand into his butt crack and rubbed my thumb against his back door. He immediately stopped bucking and relaxed. I pushed the tip of my thumb into his ass. Bad idea. He groaned one last time around my dick and exploded, his rod jerking in my loose grasp, spraying his hot, sticky seed onto my face, neck and chest.

“Ye gods, Kel. You still love to make a mess of me, don’t you?” I teased him, still fondling his tool and licking a few salty droplets off his tip. He shuddered against me, only to release my throbbing member as well.

“Told you that it’s been ages,” he chuckled.

I shook my head. It seems I only met people who were even more desperate than me. First Marigold, now him. But who was I to complain?

“Hey, don’t stop,” Kelonin sighed, clenching his anus around my thumb. I removed it from his behind and grinned fiercely. “Why don’t we do this properly, friend?”

I turned him onto his belly and he understood what I was up to. He pulled his knees under him and raised his butt into the air. Kneeling between his legs, I bent down and placed a teasing peck on each of his butt cheeks. Using some of the cum off my chest, I slicked my rod and rubbed it along his bum crack. He groaned into the mattress and pressed his behind into me. I snaked my hand under his stomach and fished for his rod, which was twitching happily as my fingers made contact.

“Today is truly my lucky day. Escaped from the jaws of death, met an old friend and ... stop teasing me, for Heaven’s sake,” he panted.

“But teasing is what I do best. Apart from stabbing people,” I chortled. Stab I did, but only my rod into his rear entrance. I had to go slow. Despite his eagerness to get nailed, he still was a little tight, and the last thing I wanted was to hurt him. Making slow, hot, delicious progress, I speared myself into his bowels until my balls slapped against his skin.

“Just like old times,” Kel whispered, pressing back against me. I bent over his back and hugged him. I knew how he must feel, far away from home and alone in a hostile environment. I at least had Ya’tyrr and the gang until recently, but he was completely on his own. For the longest time, we didn’t say anything or move much, but eventually I couldn’t stay still any more. I straightened up and grabbed his hips, pulling out until just the tip of me remained in him.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” he mumbled.

“I’m not your Priestess,” I sniggered, but obediently pushed back in, a little harder. Damn, he felt like a tight, hot glove around my dick.

“You don’t have to be, just fuck me,” he urged me on, humping his ass against me each time I thrust into him. I picked up speed, feeling my own release approach with every deep shove. Again, I reached around him, fondling and pumping his renewed erection.

“You’re so nice to me,” he moaned, clenching his insides around me. Whatever I wanted to say got turned into a hoarse moan of my own. You didn’t get such a compliment often, especially not as a drow male. Another deep thrust, and I felt my balls boil over.

“Thank ... you...” I croaked as I shuddered through my own climax. Catching my breath, I bent over him again, softly nibbling at his neck while I felt my seed slowly drip down between us.

“I hope you still have some of that cleansing magic left,” I whispered. Kel only managed to giggle weakly.

Burning, agonizing pain consumed my face, as if a sun was boiling away my skin. My skull was melting and long, slender finger were digging around in my cranium. Sickly sweet laughter as my brain was scattered everywhere, then ... then...

With a hoarse scream I shot awake, panting. Where was I? My hands slithered around until I could feel another body. Another body? Oh yeah, wait...

My head was thumping furiously and my mouth tasted like some bird had made it its nest. That cider must have been stronger than expected for me to sport such a monstrous hangover. The body moved and a long-fingered hand caressed up my spine.

“Gheeran ... are you okay?”

The last vestiges of the dream disappeared and I remembered where I was. Safely in bed, still with Kelonin. I exhaled slowly, feeling my edginess relent a bit...

“Sorry to have woken you, my friend. Just your usual nightmare,” I said by way of an apology. “How late is it?”

“It’s still dark outside. Don’t tell me you want to leave.” His naked body slithered up to me and he pulled me into an embrace.

“Well, I have to eventually or my associates will start to worry where I might have disappeared to. But now that I know that you’re here as well, we might meet again. Maybe we can work together somehow?”

“Like some kind of mercenary team?” he asked, his voice filled with hope. I felt a pang of envy at his post-orgasmic bliss.

“I don’t know about that. First I need to find a way to deal with my ... problem.”

“I think I may have an idea,” Kel said. He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that might be it!” He slid from the bed and I heard him shuffle stuff around somewhere off to my left. A moment later he chanted softly and I heard the fireplace come to life again. Again, more shuffling of items, then a triumphant “Ah-ha!” With a few quick steps, he returned to the bed and slid under the covers again.

“This is something I found in my master’s possession. Listen to this:

Rydus,

As per our agreement, I hereby promise you the fulfilment of one wish. Just use the item provided in a fire bowl, chant my name three times and I shall come.

Xanthul’ilia”

“What is that?” I asked him. Fulfilment of a wish? That sounded almost too good to be true.

“As I said, my master had this on him when he died. Must’ve been important to him. It is written in the script of the Burning Pits, which means either a demon or someone fluent in it, like another spellcaster, wrote this. Here. I want you to have it.” He closed my fingers around the scroll. I could feel something dry and leathery on the outside, stuck to it by two needles

“From gods to demons, eh? Who says this ... Xanthu-someone will actually honor their end of the bargain?” I asked him. “What if this is bait?”

“I honestly don’t know. My master had his secrets, like any drow. And he consorted with demons. I often enough heard otherworldly moans and gasps from his rooms. But then, if this indeed grants a wish, can you afford to not at least try it? It may bring your sight back, after all.”

“And what about you? A wish could get you back home.”

“Home? I don’t think so. Rydus was Mother’s consort at the time I killed him. I was so mad at him for making me scrub his alchemy lab on hands and knees again ... I’m still wondering what got into me when I disintegrated him. Going back would get me killed, and with you around, the Surface just got a lot more bearable.” He hugged me.

I grinned at him. “I distinctly remember you running from a lynch mob when you bowled me over.”

“See? Once you have your eyesight back, we could start our own little gig up here. Or you could introduce me to your boss. Mages are always welcome, right?”

The idea was tempting. Not only would I be able to regain my old spot as one of Ya’tyrr’s band, but bringing in another mage would get me the boss’s thanks too. The only thing not quite sitting well with me was that strange scroll I had in my hand. But then, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Fine. I’ll take this. But mark my words. Should I end up dead thanks to this,” I slapped at him with the scroll, “I’ll come back as a stinking zombie to haunt you for the rest of your miserable, short life.”

“Thank me later,” Kel murmured as he drew me close. I felt his hand slither down my stomach, zeroing in on my dick. “How about we celebrate our reunion once more?”

With a belly full of breakfast and hot tea, I left Kelonin. During the night, the first snow had reached Storm Harbour and every one of my steps was accompanied by a soft, crunching noise. By the gods, it was cold! The upside, if you could call it such, was that only those who had pressing business were about, making my way towards the Fish Market that much easier.

My head was awhirl. The sudden reunion with an old friend, the hot sex and most of all, his surprising gift, it all was a little overwhelming. A wish! Or, more realistically, a chance at one. Before I left, Kel had searched his meager belongings for more clues, but the only thing we could be certain of was that whoever this Xanthulilia was, she could write Demonic and promised a wish. The rest was speculation. There was but one way to find out. All I needed was a brazier and a bit of time, and hopefully this mysterious benefactor would grant my wish. I lengthened my strides, for I could hardly wait. And to be honest, I had no intention of freezing my balls off.

Eventually, I could smell the first fishy scents. The clicking of my cane, muffled as it was by the snow, reverberated off steep walls to either side of the street as I made my way between the smokehouses. Harok loved this place, for the fishmongers and gutters were often nice enough to spare him the occasional morsel. Now, without him at my side, I felt abandoned. But then, what could happen here? Even in this weather, I could hear the shouts and chants from the market. Made sense. In this cold, the fish would keep much better. I made my way towards the noise, turning a corner. Another long, narrow alley between two warehouses, by the sound of it. Here, the cobbles were almost free of any snow and my cane sounded obscenely loud.