Tree Of Life Part 24

"Does it bother you?"

"Sometimes."

"What did he do to you?" she whispered, tightly.

"I don't remember," he answered truthfully. "I only remember pain." His mood s.h.i.+fting, he rolled to his side and gathered her lovingly into himself. "I don't want to speak about the past," he murmured, and with helpless fingers stroked her cheek over and over, his mouth miserable. "I wish only to cling to these precious moments, which are pa.s.sing all too soon."

She leaned forward, her lips a feather against his. He pressed himself into the security of her warmth, closely, as if he wished never more to withdraw from her; the two were motionless for some time. She would say nothing, but then it was he who volunteered, in a low, miserable voice, "He took everything from me. Everything I ever loved he took away-my home, my life, my memory of him." Deacon lay bitter in the past, then added, "He took my mother."

Magenta looked at him, not understanding. He rolled back, staring upward.

"When she died I felt as if I ventured a little way into death with her. I could taste the bitterness of it. I think she tore a piece of me and kept it with her." He remained wordless for a time, then turned his eyes to her. "Do you remember what you said to me before, in the woods-that nothing is forever lost, that always it can be found?" A touch of scorn came to his voice. "Is that what you truly believe?"

"I do."

He stared upward again. "It does little to ease the pain," he said, some of his bitterness returning.

"No," she a.s.sented softly.

He clenched his jaw, waiting to hear her say more, but she remained quiet, watching him helplessly, feeling his pain. Her silence made his tears rise. His throat worked as if it was difficult to swallow. His eyes were wide and fixed upward. Slowly a tear escaped the corner of his eye and stole down the side of his face. "She was afraid, and I couldn't take the fear away-I couldn't take away the fear, and it hurts me in my heart-"

He broke off. Words he longed to say caught in the back of his throat, choking him. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desire to banish the memories. He would much rather have endured physical pain than this weight pressing on his heart. She sought his hand and gently clasped it. He moved slightly at her touch but did not rouse from despondency.

"There is little comfort for such sorrows," she said, quietly. "But I would suffer a thousand miserable lives if I knew at the end of them I would have you."

He slowly moved his head round on the pillow to look at her. His eyes tenderly searching her face, a deep frown gathered his brow, and his heart contracted with love. In her he had found a feeling of home. He leaned over and began to kiss her in a tearful haste, an anxious acceleration of desire, a deep, pa.s.sionate weight on her mouth as if he would draw her into him and fuse her soul with his. He kissed and kissed with his sad mouth. And she, moved with compa.s.sion, lay aside herself and allowed him to take her with this sudden desperation to sate the need for union. Gone in a flame of pa.s.sion, he abandoned all thought of past and future and gave himself over to the sweetness of the present, the inconceivable depths, the unutterable tenderness of affection between man and woman, which over and above all other relations, flows over wounds as a healing balm.

His intensely feeling heart, with all its capacity, its energy, was focused on her as the sole object of his devotion. In that intensity of tenderness, he clung to her till his desperate energy had expended itself and he lay still in her arms, his face resting against her breast. He lay there inside himself, as if in his own isolation, and yet with her, connected with her in love, his arm strong around her.

She lay dazed in the unbroken stillness. She could not remove the fear that he was hiding something. It lay upon her as a great weight. Yet as he lay helplessly against her, she could not help but look down at him with a tender heart. She would enfold him in warmth, she would give him all her own, so that he might never again feel the chill of lonely nights.

At the close of another the day, the travellers found a suitable resting place and lit a fire. The night drew in with a depressing sense of oppression. Deacon sat close to Magenta, their heads almost touching, their tone low and intimate. Derek amused himself by chewing on a piece of gra.s.s, watching the process Cedrik underwent to give his dagger the best appearance, meticulously polis.h.i.+ng the blade to ensure evenness and uniformity of finish. A large black bird swooped down into a tree near them and caused Deacon to glance up. Something in its black eye caught his attention, a kind of intelligence, keen and cunning.

Magenta looked up at him inquiringly as he slowly arose. There was a stirring in the unsettled air that disturbed him. With a sudden rageful gesture, he tore the intruder apart in a puff of black feathers. They all started to their feet in alarm. Magenta looked to Deacon with an alarmed expression of inquiry, but his eyes roved out into the night, trying to pierce the dark. He was listening, and unconsciously everyone fell into listening with him.

"Don't be far from me," he cautioned, reaching out to bring her near. For a short time he failed to observe anything, then something stealthy moved within the shadows, prowling. He sighted its sleek hide moving among the trees. To the brothers, he lifted his face to indicate its direction. Cedrik and Derek soundlessly unsheathed their swords.

They had only done this, when from within the shadows, hostile eyes encountered Deacon's. The beast emitted a frightful roar, and with a mighty spring leaped out. It collected him on the way, clawing him, and knocking Magenta to the ground in the process. Directly came four more of these bristling beasts, charging down upon them so suddenly the brothers scarce had time to ready themselves for the onrus.h.i.+ng ferocity.

Deacon struggled as he went down beneath the great body, striving to compose his mind. This he achieved, and in a sudden violent flare, his entire body became ablaze, engulfing the beast in flames. A shriek of torture issued from its gnas.h.i.+ng jaws, which seemed aimed for his throat, and with a tremendous roll and heave, Deacon hurled its blackened body off and away from him. It lay limp on its side, all four paws stilled.

Magenta, in shock, remained helpless where she had first fallen, yet the brutes made no attempt on her, but were instead bent on tearing apart her companions. Without the loss of a moment, Deacon was on his feet and heading toward her when the beast, presumed dead, made a spring for him from behind. Its lunging presence made an impression before its physical body. Deacon suddenly turned and with an effort of will, caught it out of the air and hurtled it a distance. It yelped and rolled with a gruesome twisting of its body before recovering itself, emitting roars of pain and rage.

Magenta made a sudden dash for Deacon and was forced to a halt when a beast bolted between them. She was off again in an instant, and Deacon caught her in one arm. With his other he reached up to the trees and brought down a hefty branch on the back of the burned animal, which had been poised to leap.

The campsite was in total disarray. The tethered horses reared so violently to disengage they almost injured themselves. Cedrik and Derek's troubles were no less demanding. They were rushed upon by these determined brutes, which had cold, directed hate in their eyes, something electric and conscienceless, along with the weirdness of the enchantment that gripped their wills and yielded them to a cruel master. They were strong and relentless. It took many strikes before the mighty creatures showed any signs of weakening.

Almost stumbling and falling, Derek fended off claws and gnas.h.i.+ng teeth, forced constantly backward, awaiting his moment to thrust a killing strike before the beast reached him and mauled him into death. Cedrik slashed at the thick hide, even as he turned and guided his sword point to one of those electric eyes, the action of which brought forth a deafening shriek. Another bristled and angrily leapt at his throat with its blood-thirsty fangs.

Cedrik came forward to meet it, slas.h.i.+ng at the base of the neck. A single well-placed hit would have crippled even this great monster. As it clawed past, it caught his shoulder, opening the material and his flesh alike. Wild with rage, Cedrik brought the beast down. Throwing himself full upon its back and finding the vulnerable flesh in the upper shoulder, he plunged his dagger again and again, till the object that caused his fury finally stilled and died.

He achieved this impressive feet only through his cousin's efforts at keeping its kin at bay. Deacon sent one a.s.sault after another, seeking to utterly destroy the enemies that had provoked his wrath. They were highly resistant to his efforts and terrifically strong. He held his chest painfully from the heavy exertion.

The struggle that ensued overwhelmed the companions, and they had no choice but to flee, Deacon sending light and energy away in a shockwave to give them a chance to outdistance their foe. He took hold of Magenta and together they fled through the obscure ma.s.s of trees. He held her hand tightly pressed within his own, so they might not easily be separated, drawing on her till she was at her full speed. They darted through clawing-branches that snagged and caught at their clothes and faces.

Derek skidded to a sudden halt and would have toppled over into a dark pit if not checked by his brother's strong arms from behind. Magenta was not so fortunate. Deacon's eyes saw it quicker than hers, but before he could recover himself, she stumbled and fell, almost taking him down with her. His frantic hands clutched at her as she went from his grasp. The hot blood rushed to his head, and he stared wide-eyed after her, himself hanging half-over the edge.

Below she dangled precariously and out of his reach. She groped for a hold upon the rocky surface. Almost she slipped when several pieces dislodged, with a clatter of loose earth and stones. They seemed to meet no end, for there was no sound as they disappeared into the blackness. Every time she tried to heave herself up, a rock would slip from under and threaten to drag her down with it.

For a time the shock of the occurrence left Deacon deprived of coherent thought and incapable of action. The nerve and cool head so necessary to his ability were destroyed. He looked around for the means to facilitate her a.s.sent, and sighting a large elm, demanded of Derek, "Give me your sword."

Without a minute lost, Deacon lopped off a branch and thrust it down to her. Their pursuers could not be far behind, but the fear of the new threat was still upon them. Grasping the lowered object with her hands, Magenta began to climb upward, while he held fast to the opposite end, drawing up the ascender with simultaneous effort. When she neared the top he reached to her. She stretched a hand to him with much grat.i.tude. Cedrik came forward to a.s.sist.

Derek wisely stood back from the edge while the two men, crouched upon the brink of the abyss, grabbed and pulled her to safety. Only a moment could they spare to sentiment. The beasts would soon be upon them. Unfortunately, to risk descent into an unknown pit at night was equally perilous. They had no choice but to double back into the woods, but an idea came swiftly to Deacon. He turned to his companions and instructed them to remain soundless and without motion. As if drawing a blanket over their heads, he cloaked them in profound darkness, so they appeared no different from the shadows of night, concealing them from wicked eyes. They waited there under the protection of what he had done, while Deacon stood apart and did the same for himself, but not before he sent thick fogs and mists over the pit.

The charging beasts, in pursuit of the prey that had evaded them, rushed forth unaware of the peril and all at once, plunged into the blackness. But ere those that were concealed had time to breathe relief, powerful claws revealed themselves and began to grope and claw their way back up. Only two of the beasts had plummeted to their death. Deacon stepped free of his shadowy concealment. His energies responding quickly to his will, he sent forth a bombardment of forced air, which drove the brutes backward and into the black depths, lost with their kin.

When they returned to camp, Cedrik and Derek went directly to the horses to see the extent of any injuries. Deacon moved about highly agitated, Magenta motionless near him. "Do you think it safe to remain here?" asked Cedrik, stroking the horse's neck. He had tied something tightly round his own arm to stop the flow of blood.

Deacon stalked back and forth like a cornered animal. He stopped abruptly and said tightly, "You will return home, and you will take her with you!" He had such a determined air that there seemed no opposing him. Almost instantly Magenta's face became grave and questioning.

"You will not return with us?"

For a moment Deacon stood at a loss, while she looked to him with mournful reproach. Both Cedrik and Derek moved away from the tense pair, uttering some vague reason, but they were so little conscious of anything outside of each other that the entire wood could have caught fire unseen and unheard. Less agitated than before, Deacon went to her. "You will be safer with them," he reasoned, gently.

"There would be less peril for all involved if you would return with us." It was reasonable logic, but he ignored it because it went against him. "You would rather make wild ventures than return with me?" she asked, sadly. His eyes sought the ground, and her fears were realized. "The reasons you spoke of-you have deceived me?"

His reluctant eyes lifted to met hers. She released his arm and withdrew slightly. "I hardly know whether I love or despise you most," she said, with something like despair.

"I would ask you to await my return, but you may yet despise me most."

"Why do you say these things?" she asked. "Speak more freely."

"Will you await my return?"

Her voice barely a breath: "Answer me."

It seemed uncertain whether he would venture to speak. Then: "There is a man there," he admitted tightly.

She frowned, not understanding.

"I mean to kill him."

The sinking feeling when an undesirable truth is reached made her suddenly ill and faint. It was with heavy dismay that she asked. "Whose blood are you so anxious to spill?" His eyes soon gave an answer and she understood. "You told me he had died."

"He's as good as."

"He's not been punished?"

"It's not enough," he said with his suppressed hatred. "I want to look into his eyes and watch him die." He clenched his teeth with pain. "And in his last breath, when he begs my forgiveness-deny him." He spoke in a voice filled with such controlled hate it was hardly his own.

"You're so very conscious of time, and yet you would waste it with vengeance?" she said. "How can you expect me to wait for you, knowing what it is that I await you for?"

His face grew pale with anger. He felt the threat of her words like a hot sting of betrayal. "Am I to understand, then, that you would cast me aside if I should make an attempt?" She looked at him with an expression more painful to see than the bitterest of tears. He cried brutally, "Why should you care if the world is short one less black-hearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Even in its anger his voice was pleading for understanding.

"I care what it will do to you." Lightly she touched his averted face. He stared out into the night, shaking his head with angry refusal. "I fear you will come away changed. Please don't go." Her light touch seemed to be pleading with him.

"You know I will."

"What of those words you spoke to me?" she said with a significance meant for him alone. "Shall I not hear them again?" She took his hand and pressed it to her lips, then to her face, holding it there. "It is too cruel a fate to have finally found you, only to have you thus pa.s.s from me."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Remain true to me-wait for me-and we needn't part. This will only pose a temporary separation," he said. His hope beat up again. She disengaged from his hand and shook her head, mute with misery. He bowed his face in his hands for a few moments, then suddenly looked up. "You don't understand what you're asking!" There was so much pain and frustration in his voice, it was harder to hear than the most piteous pleading. "You don't know what it is to watch the one nearest your heart, sick and dying in frailty and the crippling feeling of helplessness, a sense of futility that dominates as a dark weight that will not lift.

"In this despair I watched her shrinking frame which seemed by inches to dissolve and vanish in death. I watched this process of slow dying without power to stop it. It was as if I was dying with her, inside myself. Toward the very end she would partake of food so little, I would beg and plead with her. But her body, if not she, would reject it-the human form, when so frail, loses its ability to accept sustenance, even if the will to live is there.

"I knew she would die, and with that reality comes hopelessness, made all the more keen knowing her unbroken will was strong, not ready to die, while her wounded body, giving way, submitted her to the fearful, empty s.p.a.ce of inevitability, imprisoned in this horrible inescapable fate which was killing her." Holding back the burning tears he continued. "Before the time of death even came, she was only half conscious; her eyes had no vision within them. The darkness of death was between her and the light of life. I could not reach her; she was alone, and she was afraid.

"We all die alone, I know, but not like that-not how she suffered. It was the cruelest thing I have had to endure. And this he did." Deacon clenched his teeth. "Do you have any notion, even in the slightest degree, what it is to have this depth of anguish inflicted by the very person who should have been the one to s.h.i.+eld her from injury and evil?"

Magenta, overcome by his anguish, was voiceless. It was a cruel pain to see him so hurting, so helplessly desperate, and she could do nothing. There was something heart-rendering about his mouth as he spoke. "He should have protected her! He shouldn't have let her die-" He could not command his voice and gave up. The situation was so flooded and clouded with emotion, Magenta did not yet come to understand that when he spoke the last, it was not of his father, but of another whom he felt had betrayed her.

Soon he recollected himself and said in a much lower voice, "I swore to her, not in spoken words, but in all my thoughts, that I would avenge her. I would be a traitor to myself if I did not fulfil that promise." When she hesitated, a fearful doubt coming into her face, he pursued earnestly, "Would you not have me avenge my own mother's death? Would you deny me of that-deny her?"

Magenta weakened before his solemnities and said, defeated, "I have no answer to surpa.s.s yours."

Clutching her, he said, "Please try to understand."

"What is it you wish me to say?"

He could see the fear of uncertainty in her face and became desperate in his heart. "Say you'll wait for my return, that you'll not despise me for what must be done, that we are as we have been, that you won't turn from me, that you love me. Promise it will be as I have said-you must promise me this." His entreaties were poured forth with controlled effort, but still with frantic hands he clung to her. When she did not respond as he so desperately wished, he released her angrily and asked, "What should prevent you? You said you had resolved to be mine."

"You will come away forever changed," she said with a calm sadness. "One soul cannot wound another and not leave a fixed mark."

"He has already left a fixed mark! You know not the chill of such a betrayal, and they let it happen, they let her die." There was so much hate in those muttered words, it appeared a shadow deepened on his countenance and made it black. "I will see them all suffer. After their deception I believe I shall be justified in going to all lengths."

His words fell upon her dark and heavy. "What do you mean?" she asked, confused as to whom he now spoke of. "What is it that you mean by that?"

With a strength of which he was unconscious, he suddenly gripped her shoulders. "Why are you not listening to the things I'm telling you!" he cried with singular distress. He could hear the coa.r.s.e ugliness of strained emotion in his own voice but somehow could not contain himself. "Did I not say they let her die! More than that, they deceived me into leaving her so they might cast away her mortal burden, which to them was a mere stain on the white-cold fabric of their immortal perfection!" Scarcely conscious of his actions, he tightened his grip. He could hardly find sufficient vent in words. "Do you listen to me!" he demanded severely. He seemed to be breaking apart before her eyes, pa.s.sionate in his need for her to understand.

Magenta winced, confronted by the strength of his suffering. Her heart seemed unable to beat. "I am listening," she said, barely audibly, with a softness and sincerity that was more effective than anger. He clutched her round behind the neck and pressed his face to hers. His heart beat with increasing violence.

"Don't turn against me, Magenta." Almost he pleaded, but there was something distinctly cold and reproachful in the sound of his voice. "I still need you. I cannot bear the misery and hopeless solitude of this world without you. Do not withdraw your love from me. If you could only feel what I have felt you would understand ..." In utter desperation he said, "Let me give you my thoughts." She stiffened against him, and he pleaded softly, "Please don't be afraid," pus.h.i.+ng his restless face into hers, his mouth hot against her cheek. He ignored her faintly uttered refusal and clenched her tightly to himself.

Instantly a look of fear and anguish seized her; into her mind entered thoughts and feelings that seared her consciousness like fire. She cringed away from him, turning aside her face. She wanted to hide from him. Helpless in his grasp, she shrank from the memories that crowded upon her, so full of misery and confusion, tortured with such hatred, she could see only darkness.

The black mists and clouds that had cast shadows on his spirit, the utter confusion which blackened him, blinded her. He was like living darkness, covering her, taking her breath. With excessive force he transferred to her the same dark flame that possessed his blood. She could not feel him, only rage, pa.s.sion, grief, and death. She felt it all as a crus.h.i.+ng weight, so bewildered and overcome with intense emotion she could scarce stand by her own strength. All this time he clutched her in his arms, straining her till she became pale and faint.

Gradually his hold relinquished, and she hung in his arms, panting and exhausted, making an effort of consciousness; she had not yet the presence of mind to speak. Brought back to a sense of herself, she choked on a sob and let her head bow forward into his chest. Her hands groped for him as if she had lost him in the dark. Presently, she stilled against him. Her eyes closed. She wanted to lie against him and find rest, her emotions spent and worn.

In this stillness a sense of loneliness came. She could not feel him, only will and determination. At length she lifted up her face. Her countenance showed that the mental and emotional exertions of the experience had left her faint and afraid. For a long moment she looked at him. He knew not what her silence meant, and with a fearful heart said, "Speak!" His face was devoid of colour.

She again became distraught, desperate at the threat of separation. "Deacon." She held his face between her hands. "Do not venture where I cannot find you," she pleaded, and looking up into his face with an expression intensely mournful, murmured: "I feel I should die without you." Her forehead sank against his chin. "If you go to Terium, I will not be at your side, and I will not be awaiting your return."

He became dangerously quiet, struggling in his heart with a sharp bitterness that was rising up within him. Almost imperceptibly he held himself hard and away from her, a heavy pounding in his chest, which rose and fell with the convulsive heavings of a man deeply wounded. He had bared his soul to her, and it had availed him nothing.

At that moment he looked up and saw Cedrik and Derek coming through the trees toward the camp. They had heard the violence in his voice. He drew her back slightly, so he could look into her face, and said, "Say nothing of what has been spoken between us." The words came out hard from his throat, which now felt hoa.r.s.e and choked.

"Are we to spend the night here?" asked Cedrik, breaking the tense silence. Deacon seemed to flinch at the intrusion. Mechanically he drew back from her and looked up to his cousin.

"I think so." He wiped the sweat from his brow. As he went to pa.s.s, he paused near her. "I leave in the morning with or without your favor." He felt a slight struggle in his throat. "You cannot alter my course."

His face was set so hard in uncompromising lines that she knew there was nothing to be done with him. Something within her broke and sank. She knew that by morning, as sure as the sun would rise, he would be gone. Without a further word Deacon escaped to the isolation of his tent. He unwrapped the bundle of bedding and spread it on the ground, his mind numb. He knew not whether she would spend the night by his side, but not for an instant did his intention waver. Ducking briefly out to retrieve his bag, he was confronted by Cedrik, who said, blunt and to the point, "My father always said that revenge is a knife sharpened at both ends. It cuts both ways."

Deacon's mouth compressed. He looked past Cedrik to where Magenta stood with eyes that spoke of betrayal, his whole countenance showing fierce resentment. Her courage failed under his condemning gaze, and her eyes fell beneath his. She knew he would consider it disloyalty, but she felt she had no choice. Deacon then looked to the other standing before him and said with vexed impatience, "Save your breath, Cedrik; I'll not suffer through your moralizing."

To this came a determined reply: "Please, hold your peace until I have said what I must say." He went on hurriedly, lest Deacon should speak and interrupt before he had put forth his argument, but Deacon said nothing, which was worse. He seemed to be an impenetrable black wall.

With ever-increasing agitation Cedrik spoke his mind. He had got himself so worked up anyone seeing him for the first time would find it hard to believe in his customary good-naturedness.

"Give me no more advice!" said Deacon with fierceness. "I have reasons good as any man ever had for killing, and I intend to."

Cedrik shook his head with anger. "Your mother would be anguished to find you so reduced."

Deacon's control broke at that. He felt it, like a struck flint, flaring up and burning inside his chest. He clenched his fist and dealt a blow hard enough to stagger Cedrik. He stumbled forward himself from the force, then stood straight, his shoulders rising and falling with each forced breath. His lungs felt full of fire.

Cedrik's initial impulse was to retaliate, but he maintained control, pressing the back of his hand to his lip, which was split and bleeding. "Better?" he asked and turned aside his face, spitting blood. "You must hear reason!" he cried as Deacon pushed past him. "d.a.m.n you! You're going to get yourself whipped and hanged for murder; do you understand that?"

With a blackened countenance Deacon said, "I warn you now, Cedrik, do not attempt to prevent me!" With impatient fury, he began to fit the saddle on his horse. He would not endure another night with them after such a breach of trust.

"Don't turn your back on me," said Cedrik. He started forward, furiously checked by his brother's embrace, who feared the strife would escalate into something seriously injurious.

"Let him go," said Derek, restraining Cedrik. His tone more than his arms succeeded in this.

Magenta came to Deacon's side trying in vain to calm him. He cast on her a savage glance. "You betrayed me," he said and mounted the fl.u.s.tered beast. His name broke from her lips with an agony of entreaty such as would penetrate the hardest of hearts, yet he swung up without so much as a glance backward. With sudden desperation she smothered her mouth and nose with her hands as if she would weep. He gave a brutal kick to the beast's side and made off through the darkened trees. He was gone from her.

A pallor spread over her features, and she placed her hand against the tree as if she might fall from actual physical weakness. He had taken her breath away with him, and it did not return for the longest time.

Presently Cedrik came to her side, while Derek stood back with a look no less concerned. Cedrik rubbed his face and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "It's impossible for us to reach home before he reaches Terium, but there is nothing else for us to do. He's beyond me; there's no way for me to restrain him. When we return, you will tell eomus everything he spoke to you." Magenta nodded weakly, still staring out into the dark. Cedrik wiped the sweat from his mouth and looked at her, his face softened. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he said, "Whatever his conduct, you can be certain he loves you." He was distressed to feel her tremble slightly beneath his hand.

"Not enough," she said, bitterly but subdued with despair.

Alone among the trees, Magenta stood staring into the night, broken hearted, her features listless with anguish. A single strand of black hair blew across her tear-stained face. She was lost in this sorrowful reverie when from behind a presence made itself felt upon her. Perhaps when she turned she expected to see Cedrik, for she suddenly became pale, a fear struck her heart.

Out from the shadows approached Fraomar, and as she met his eyes, a malicious smile of greeting went over his face. It was painfully sweet to have her alone and in his charge. He could barely contain himself. "Magenta," he said with a familiarity she resented. "Your father has requested I escort you home." His voice was calm and appealing, belying his violent countenance.

"If I should not consent?" she asked, looking at him with angered, frightened eyes.

He smiled with an arrogant twist of the lips and leaned toward her, speaking so that each word might fall distinctly on her ear, "The choice does not lie with you." His face became cruel, and with a brute force that would disgrace an ogre, he brought his forearm down on her cheek.