Chapter Fourteen: Ghosts of Kattegat

The clang of metal on metal filled the air. If Rúna and Guthrum had been well matched, then she and Astrid were a perfect one. Neither was able to get a blow in, each attempt blocked by the other's blade. Astrid's strokes echoed in Rúna's shoulders and back, her muscles burning from her efforts. Not far off, Lagertha stood watching, smiling all the while.

"That's enough, girls." The shieldmaiden tossed water skins to each of them. "Rúna, those boys of Ragnar's are teaching you well."

"Thank you," Rúna managed to fit between pulls of water. Lagertha had worked them hard, watching them for some time before calling an end to the practice duel. Astrid's short hair was clinging to her neck as she took several quick swallows of water.

Rúna watched as Lagertha gently smoothed the sweaty strands off the older girl's face. Astrid was something of an enigma to Rúna. More often than not, she wore a scowl that was off-set by her dark hair. Black smudges lined her pale eyes, not unlike what Helga and Floki wore. Astrid felt hard, and her sharp features did nothing to soften that aura.

It was an odd contrast, when Astrid was so often beside Lagertha. To Rúna, the earl was like summer personified, the season echoed in her honey-blonde hair, warm smiles, and sky-blue eyes. There was an earthy comfort to Lagertha, like a sun-soaked wheat field in the heart of summer.

"Astrid." Lagertha lifted the girl's hand, giving it a loving squeeze. "I should like to speak to Rúna alone a bit. I will meet you back at Björn and Torvi's cabin."

A curt nod was Astrid's only reply. She sheathed her sword and turned on her heel, setting out on a path that would take her winding through the woods back to the heart of Kattegat. Lagertha watched her go until the trees swallowed Astrid's retreating form. Then she turned to Rúna, smiling, and twined their arms together. "Walk with me for a bit, Rúna."

Kattegat had been Lagertha's home long before it was Rúna's. She knew the woods just as well, her footsteps sure and steady as she led the way.

"I am sure you know that Helga and Floki had another child, no?"

"Angrboda," Rúna smiled. "Named after Loki's wife. She took a fever and passed when she was very small."

Beside her, Lagertha smiled as well, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yes, that's right. I never got to meet Angrboda, but Floki told me she was like Helga come again." The earl fell silent for a beat before shaking her head as if to clear something from her mind. Her hair swung with the motion, an errant strand tickling Rúna's cheek. "I had a daughter as well."

"Gyda," they spoke her name at the same time. Lagertha turned to Rúna in surprise. Blushing and ducking her head, Rúna explained, "King Ragnar told me about her once."

"He did?" Here, Lagertha's smile softened. Her gaze softened as well, and Rúna had the impression the older woman was no longer looking at her but rather into the past.

"Mmm. He said she was sweet as summer sunshine, too sweet for life here in Midgard. Actually…maybe I was thinking of what King Ragnar and did not realize, but I was thinking, earlier, that you are like summer, too."

This made a smile break out on Lagertha's face that just made Rúna more certain that the shieldmaiden embodied the summer sun.

"Helga told me you were born in summer. You're coming up on your…?"

"Fifteenth."

"So, only fourteen, just now. Just like my Gyda."

The path Lagertha set them upon brought them to the river. It was a slow, meandering thing, cutting a lazy path through the deep forest, but here it widened and mixed with the salt water from the sea. The trees were thin, here, forest soil beginning to give way to sand. In the estuary, silty river water began to mix with the jewel-blue water of the sea. "I used to bring Gyda here to hunt for eels."

Lagertha turned her head, looking down the length of the beach that was just visible through the thinning trees. They were at the mouth of the ocean, but also the mouth of a fjord. On either side of the beach rose sheer faces of rock. Rúna had never been here, to this fjord. It was low tide, so the beach was ample in its stretch to meet the waves. Yet, this beach was surprisingly devoid of debris—no driftwood nor shells littered the shore. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves. All the birdsong from the forest had ceased, here.

"I know how Floki loves our gods. Has he ever brought you here?"

"No." The answer left her lips as a breathy whisper. She realized Lagertha was right before she even spoke again; this fjord was a place of the gods. That was the only explanation for how charged the air felt, in that almost-silence.

When Lagertha stepped forward, she pulled Rúna with her. The sand beneath her feet felt like any other sand. Above them, the sky was still that soft, spring blue. Yet… this place was different. The way the rock rose on either side encapsulated this place, making it feel cut off from the rest of the world.

Lagertha took a deep breath beside her, eyes fixed on the horizon. "It feels like so many lifetimes ago. When the fever swept through Kattegat and took my Gyda with it, I knew this was the perfect place to say goodbye to our dead. The gods are close here. I knew their weary souls wouldn't have far to journey."

They stood together, ocean breeze ruffling their hair. It was easy to imagine the souls being heralded by Hel, taken to the afterlife most fitting of most Viking, to continue on in her realm beneath the earth. This fjord was a lovely place, and Rúna was grateful for Lagertha's confiding in her. But she couldn't help but wonder… "Forgive me, Lagertha, but why have you told me all this?"

Backlit by the sun, blonde hair gilded a burnished gold, Lagertha pursed her lips. "To tell you truly, Rúna, I am not sure." Lagertha gave her arm a squeeze before turning to lead her back through the forest. "Sometimes, the gods guide us in ways we do not immediately understand."

"You said I was like summer. Do you always compare people to the seasons?"

Rúna smiled. "Helga and Floki are both spring, but different parts. Helga's the warm, soft breezes and the earth waking. Floki is the animals coming out to play after the winter and that light feeling you get in spring, when the sun comes back."

"What of my son, Björn?"

Here, Rúna tipped her head, considering. "He's winter, but the early season. When the snow is soft and flurries instead of hard blizzards. When you can still play in winter. He taught us all how to take a running start and slide across the ice on our feet one year."

A laugh rang out, birds startled in Lagertha's mirth. "And his brothers?"

"Ubbe and Ivar are both autumn, but again, different parts. Ubbe is the harvest, planning ahead, fortifying. Ivar is earlier in the season, when summer is sliding into autumn. The days are still warm, but the wind has chilled, and any day might bring a big, disastrous rainstorm. Hvitserk is midsummer. Bright, warm, happy. And Sigurd is when winter is turning to spring. You never quite know if you'll get a heap of snow or a bright, sunny day from him."

"I think you're good at this."

Lagertha walked Rúna all the way back to a more familiar beach, to the cabin she shared with Floki and Helga. With Rúna away for training with Lagertha and Astrid, Floki had taken a day of rest from building Björn's boats. There was an air of old familiarity as Lagertha pushed the door open to let herself in with Rúna in tow.

"Floki, Helga, I apologize. I kept Rúna longer than I said I would. Truly, I was caught up in the feeling of having a daughter again." The shieldmaiden wrapped her arm around Rúna's shoulders to give her a squeeze, bringing a smile to the young girl's face.

"She's good at that." Helga smiled as well, holding her hand out. Rúna took it readily, crossing the room into another hug. "Won't you stay for dinner, Lagertha?"

"I would love to, but I sent Astrid along to Björn's. They're expecting me. Besides, I've some sewing to help Torvi finish up her work, if my son's family will be prepared to grow a bit more."

A wide smile broke out on Floki's face. "A new baby for Björn, huh? Hopefully this blessing from the gods won't delay our summer plans."

"You know my son. It will take more than Torvi's belly growing to keep him off those boats, Floki."

That smile somehow grew wider. "Good. We sail the first boat to port at the docks in the morning."

Ivar had a decided pallor as the boat drifted out of the shallows, the paleness making his eyes as bright as a spark of lightning. His lips pressed together in a hard line as he dared to peek over the edge of the boat.

Beside him, Rúna giggled. She leaned close to him, cupping her hand around his ear. "Don't feel bad," she whispered to him. "Floki cannot swim, either."

A sea breeze ruffled his hair as he glared at her. "How is that meant to make me feel better?"

Before Rúna could answer, the boat was set to swaying after a hollow thud from below. Ivar was suddenly tinged green, gripping the seat below him so tightly his fingers shone white where they showed through his braces. Rúna only laughed again. "It's just a whale, Ivar. They bump the hull from time to time, out of curiosity, I suppose."

"Just a whale," Ivar muttered weakly, with hardly any of the venom he usually would have injected into such a sentence.

With only three passengers, there was no need for rowing. The boat sluiced easily through the water, carried by the current and breeze billowing the sails. Though Rúna sat beside Ivar for his comfort, Floki was at the bow. He leaned forward over the water. Rúna couldn't see his face, but the slant of his shoulders and the way he was bent at the waist spoke excitement.

"Whales, Rúna! A whole family!"

She leaned across Ivar, peering over the edge to look at the sleek, dark whales swimming close to the surface. The breeze caught her loose hair, strands tickling at Ivar's nose. Reaching behind her, Rúna found purchase on his tunic sleeve. She pulled him forward, despite the grunt of protest he gave. All thoughts of his seasickness were gone from her mind, excitement clouding her judgment. "Look, Ivar, aren't they amazing?"

In the water, the slick animals moved through the water all around. They were close to the surface, close enough to make out their dark shapes swimming though the water. A particularly curious whale, younger than the rest if its size was any indication, broke the surface of the water and rolled playfully to expose its white underbelly.

"Astounding," he managed to quip before his arm slammed into her stomach, pushing her back and away. Leaning over the ocean, Ivar lost the porridge and sausage Margrethe had served his family to break their fast that morning.

Rúna reached a hand out to touch his shoulder but ended up drawing it back, tucking it against her smarting chest instead. He had nearly knocked the breath from her when he pushed her away, though she knew it wasn't intentional. Leaning out over the ocean, Ivar lost the porridge and sausage Margrethe had served his family to break their fast that morning.

The retching left his throat burning and his mouth soured. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. When he turned back to Rúna, an apologetic half-smile graced her lips, a water skein outstretched to him. Ivar took it, leaning over the edge again to rinse his mouth.

"Sorry," the murmured to him, but he only shook his head. This unfortunate weakness of his wasn't her fault. He didn't like to so much as glance at the water surrounding them on all sides. Though he trusted Floki's sailing, he hated that land was no longer visible to them as they made their way around the fjord.

Despite the distraction of the whales splashing in the water, Ivar's vomiting was loud enough to catch Floki's attention. Sensing the need for a distraction, he crossed the boat in steady steps and plopped himself on the bench across from Rúna and Ivar. Drawing a leather pouch from his pocket, Floki's dark eyes began to shine.

"Ivar, your brother may have his eyes set on the Mediterranean, but I remember the days our raiding was poor and dreary. We only sailed to lands we knew from tales passed down from fathers to sons. All that changed for us when Ragnar brought these home to Kattegat."

His signature mischievous grin spreading across his face, Floki withdrew an almost circular, transparent stone from the bag. Ragnar's sunstone, used for sailing the open seas. Floki had kept it through all those years and had taught Rúna how to use it when she was small. When he passed it to her, she smiled herself and raised the stone up to the sky.

The day was clear, rendering the use of the sunstone unnecessary to find the celestial body it was named for. With the sun unobstructed, the rays caught and refracted through the stone. She shifted the stone, so the light played across Ivar's face. "When the sky's clouded over and you're at open sea, you can set your course with a sunstone. Once you find the sun, you can find North."

Ivar reached for the sunstone, intrigued and captivated by anything that had to do with his father. His eyes shined as blue as the sky above them, face full of wonder as he looked at the sunstone in his hands.

"This took him to Northumbria," Ivar murmured, using the Saxon name for the land.

"Partially," Floki corrected. "The sunstone can only be used for charting the open sea with its sunboard. Knowing where the sun is in the sky will not do you much good if you have no reference point to tie it to."

Floki pulled the sunboard out next, fingers dancing over the dial and illustrations as he explained how to use it. "But you are correct, Ivar. Northumbria was the first of the Christian lands we raided, and where we were afflicted with the scourge known as Athelstan."

The long-dead priest's name seemed to sour in Floki's mouth. His lips skewed down in disgust before his expression brightened, the sun breaking free on a cloudy day. "We raided during their Mass, when the Christians gather together in something they call a church to worship their God. That was Ragnar's idea, to strike when they were all occupied and left defenseless."

Some of the stories the pair had heard before, but the repetition didn't diminish the awe Ivar held over the legend of his father. Floki reminisced about battles against the Saxon kings Aelle and Ecbert, of spoils brought home in the form of gold and jewels and seeds. Always seeds—they were still farmers primarily in Kattegat, even with the booming market and all the past raids. Floki talked for so long that Rúna forgot the rocking of the boat beneath them. Only the warm sun and salty air and her father's words were real, in this story he spun.

Their walk through Ragnar's history ended abruptly when Floki stood, smiling widely at the both of them. "That's all for today, my children. Björn's waiting for us at the dock."

Rúna realized Floki's stories had been a distraction for Ivar, to keep his mind off his fear of the water. She had been sailing with Floki countless times before; she knew the waters of the fjord were still on the shallow side, calm in their lapping waves tugged by the tide. But to Ivar, it had been a terrifying unknown. The relief was evident on his face when he reached for Björn as soon as they were close enough to the docking pier, his older brother hooking him under his arms to help pull him from the boat.

Björn grunted, "You ought to stop eating, little brother. You are far too heavy for a boneless man."

"You can admit your old age, Björn," Ivar teased back. Color flooded his cheeks once more as Björn set him down. The steady, solidness of the pier beneath his body relieved him even more than Floki's stories had.

Shaking his head, Björn held a hand aloft to help Rúna down. She gripped the wide expanse of his palm to steady her as she jumped, landing lightly beside him. Ivar had already crawled the length of the pier. He sat waiting for Rúna and Floki on the beach, letting sand sift through his fingers.

"C'mon, Ivar. We ought to get you home before Queen Aslaug thinks we've given to Njord."

"No," he told her, jerking his head in the other direction. "Come to the market with me. Hvitserk was telling me about the new shields the blacksmith has been working on and I want to see them."

A look thrown back over her shoulder was Rúna's only way of asking permission. Floki merely smiled, waving her away before ushering Björn onto the first of his boats for a tour. Rúna fell into step with Ivar, walking slowly. The slippery sand was harder for him to crawl on, his hands finding little purchase on the grains. He managed, as Ivar always did, but there was a definite hinderance on the beach compared to more solid ground.

"What's so different about these shields?" She asked, walking with her hands clasped behind her. To her surprise, the market was nearly empty. Merchants threw conspicuous glances at them as they moved along the stall-lined paths. A blush began to burn in Rúna's cheeks, one she tried desperately to ignore. The unwanted attention had her wishing for a cloak, though the weather was too warm for one.

"He used some of the metal he had stored from the last raids in the Christian lands. They have better metals there, stronger, harder to damage. He's crafting the shields on Björn's commission, to take to the Mediterranean unknown."

"I have wondered what Björn will find there," Rúna mused, her mind drifting back to Floki's stories and the weapons he had described being used by the Christians they had fought. "And the gods they keep. Surely the rest of the world cannot be so overrun with Christianity."

Ivar spit at the thought, pausing at the door of the blacksmith's workshop. Rúna pushed the door open for them, holding it wide for him to crawl over the threshold. "I wouldn't be much surprised if it is."

Sweat clogged the hot air, giving the workshop a musky twang under all the smoke and metal. It was loud here, apprentices' hammers clanging as they beat out swords, spears, and arrowheads. The blacksmith himself, a hulking man named Frode, unmistakable with his white-blonde hair and nearly colorless blue eyes, was far in the back. In his hands was what Rúna guessed to be one of the very shields Ivar had been speaking of.

It looked like a typical Viking shield, wood reinforced with metal. There was nothing new about it other than the origin of the metal used, as far as Rúna could tell.

"Ah, my little crippled friend," Frode greeted them. "You've brought a shieldmaiden with you, huh? She your bodyguard then?"

Frode bent at the waist, grasping Ivar about the arm and hauling him onto a nearby stool. "Rúna's a friend. Floki's daughter."

"Oh-ho! Our resident boatbuilder's girl, she is. I should've known her by her hair. No other girl in Kattegat burns a path like that mane of yours. Here, shieldmaiden."

Heavy, solid wood smacked into her palm when she caught the axe tossed to her. She could tell by the weight of it that this axe was heavier than the one she trained with. The handle was heavily carved with runes and their pattern pressed sharply into her skin as she gave a tiny practice swing. Ivar had been given one of the finished shields, the wood shining and bearing Ragnar's black runic patterns.

"Knowing Ivar, he will want to test the strength of the shield himself. Go on, shieldmaiden, strike the little prince."

"Yes, Rúna, do hit me. Put me out of my misery for having had to smell Frode's unwashed apprentice boys for this long."

"We've not all got slave girls to pour our baths, you know. Life isn't so soft outside that great hall of yours."

While they argued, Rúna found a comfortable balance for the axe in her hand. She took her swing in the middle of Ivar framing another snarky remark for the blacksmith, almost catching him off guard.

But not quite.

Ivar missed so little. He had the shield raised and poised to block her at just the right moment. She was too far into the swing to change course, but not too far that he couldn't position the shield to take the entire blow. Surely he took some of the shock from her blow, but despite that sense of logic, the vibrating pain shooting from wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder disagreed with her. As did Ivar's wide smile brightening his face, all traces of his earlier seasick pallor gone.

"Well?" Frode prompted, not bothering to hold back his laugh when Rúna rubbed at her shoulder. For his part, Ivar turned the sword in his hands in mock inspection to keep the blacksmith waiting.

"I am jealous these shields will be crossing the ocean with Björn, for I should like to have one."

Under the cacophony of metal striking metal and the hissing of burning blades plunging into water, Rúna could just make out a steady stream of coughing. Small at first, blending with the bigger sounds taking up the workplace, but growing in weight and persistence until it drew her attention away from Frode and Ivar altogether.

"Consider it a very late Yule gift when I save one back for you," Frode was saying, all good cheer. "Or very early, whichever makes you feel better."

Rúna's hand trailed behind her as she turned toward the sound of the coughing, fingers skimming over Ivar's knees. His head swiveled at the tingle they sent shivering across his skin, following her gaze. Over the top of her head, he watched one of Frode's apprentices cough into his open palm. The boy's other hand clawed at the tunic covering his chest, as if he found the thin fabric restrictive.

Blood coughed into his palm smeared his own face when the boy collapsed, convulsing on the ground. More blood gurgled in his throat, escaping his mouth in foamy spit. Rúna gasped, her hand tightening on Ivar's pant leg. He covered her hand with his own as Frode began to yell.

"No, boys, get back! Away from him! Healers can't help him now, let alone you sorry lot." Frode yanked the shield from Ivar's other hand, kicking the axe Rúna dropped and sending it flying across the floor. When had she dropped it? She hadn't heard it. "Get the prince out of here, girl. Now. Tell the queen plague's come to Kattegat again."

Woodenly, Ivar leaned forward to pull himself off his stool. A blocking smack of Rúna's hand against his shoulder stopped him. She was shaking her head at him. "You cannot crawl past him, Ivar. It'll be bad enough walking."

There was only one door to the shop. A window might be an option, but apprentice boys lined the walls in tense knots awaiting further instructions from Frode.

"How else do you propose I leave?" He snapped, but Rúna's fingers were already flying over his bindings.

"I'll carry you. Try to hold your breath, we shouldn't be breathing in this air." Once his legs were free, Rúna turned her back to him, waiting for his weight. She hardly paused long enough for him to settle, tucking her hands under his thighs and grunting through her teeth, "Björn was right; you have gotten heavier."

He flicked her cheek but gave no other answer. Not that she paused for one. Determinedly, she crossed the blacksmith shop as quickly as her legs would take them and shouldered open the door. Though summer was coming on, the outside air felt like a winter's chill when they drew in gulps of fresh air.

Looking around frantically, Rúna's eyes landed on Sigurd some yards off. She called out to him, shouting for him to hurry. Ivar didn't even argue as his least-favorite brother broke into a sprint to reach them, pulling him off Rúna's back. They settled him between them instead, each looping one of Ivar's arms around their necks to carry him in tandem.

"What the fuck?" Sigurd asked, forgetting all manners.

"One of Frode's apprentice boys dropped dead drenched in sweat and coughing up blood," Ivar explained. "Rúna-the-healer didn't think I should go past him on the ground."

"She was right." Even as they moved toward the great hall at as fast of a pace Ivar's weight and Sigurd and Rúna's height distance allowed, the market was eerily quiet. "Is that what's going on? Mother was wanting butter and we have none and the animals aren't giving milk yet. She sent Margrethe, but when she came back empty-handed, Mother got mad and sent me out."

"I suppose. It was quiet like this when we came in from sailing with Floki."

"That's where you've been? Sailing and coming across a plague. It's a wonder you've lived long enough today to hear the scolding Mother's going to give you."

Ivar glared over at his brother, but the trio was coming up on the great hall. He dropped his voice to a hissing whisper to retort, "There'll be no scolding if you keep your ugly mouth shut, Sigurd."

"You'll have to buy the silence from me, Ivar."

Rúna cut her eyes at the both of them, but she was just thankful their bickering contained itself to verbal barbs. She pulled away from Ivar to push the door open for them, ushering them inside.

"Queen Aslaug?"

Her tall figure emerged from the shadow of her bedroom, hazel eyes roving over the teenagers before her. "Why is your brother carrying you, Ivar? Have you got pains?"

"No, Mother." Sigurd let Ivar's weight drop, not entirely gentle but causing no damage. Ivar set about tying his laces as Sigurd and Rúna stepped back to let him explain. "I asked Rúna to go with me to the blacksmith's, so we might see the shields he is crafting for Björn, but there was some trouble while we were there. An apprentice boy dropped dead."

That caught the queen's attention, dark-lined eyes widening as her hands flutter about her sons. Though obvious she wanted to touch them, she never quite did. "Margrethe! Ubbe! Was this boys sick?"

"The blacksmith called it plague," Rúna admitted. She fiddled with the hem of her tunic.

"Rúna carried me from the shop, Mother," Ivar continued. "She did not want me to crawl past the dead boy."

Hardly a glance was thrown her way from the queen, though, as Margrethe and Ubbe rushed into the front room from different directions.

"Margrethe, a fire. Big and hot. We will need to burn the boys' clothing. Ubbe, help Ivar undress quickly. I want both you boys in the old bedroom you all shared. I'll run baths for the two of you while Margrethe burns your clothing. After you help your brother, Ubbe, go find Hvitserk. I want him home as soon as possible. Ask him if he's been in the market." Rich silk skirts swirled as Aslaug turned on her heel. "You had best do the same once you are home, Rúna. Go find Floki and hurry home. If you happen upon Björn along the way, tell him what has happened."

Helga followed Aslaug's instructions to the letter, tossing Rúna's clothing onto a fire Floki built outside before pushing Rúna into the hottest bath she had ever taken. The water was near boiling, scalding her skin before Helga even began scrubbing at her. Every swipe of cloth stung along her already-sensitive skin, but Rúna bore it in silence. Her mind was elsewhere.

I don't know that Ivar would survive if he got sick. Fevers tended to linger with him, his body lacking the full strength to ward one off. Despite the burning water, a shiver racked her spine at the thought of Ivar so sick, blood filling his mouth and choking his throat, too weak to put forth the effort to turn over to spit it out.

Please. Bath water splashed over her head, searing her scalp and stinging her eyes. Rúna wasn't even sure which god she was begging. Please don't let him get sick.

"You tell me if you feel off in any way, immediately, do you understand?" Helga asked, wrapping Rúna in a clean sheet after her bath, just like she used to when Rúna was small. She merely nodded solemnly, sitting on her bedroom floor in her sheet so Helga could comb and braid her hair. Helga hummed as she pulled her fingers gently through the sopping strands, water turning Rúna's hair nearly black. She separated the long locks into two sections, deftly braiding each half so they hung in a pair down Rúna's bare back.

Though the sun was still shining above the horizon, Helga gave Rúna her dinner and sent her to bed to rest. Her skin was tender beneath the rustle of her thin sleeping shift. Helga had tossed herbs into the fire in her small hearth, giving her bedroom a sweet, earthy smell as she climbed beneath her blankets.

Sighing, Rúna pulled her childhood doll from beneath her pillow. Her time-faded, smiling face was still comforting to her after all these years. She rolled to her side, tucking the doll against her chest and closed her eyes tight. It was dark enough, with the shutter pulled shut and the curtain in the doorway drawn closed that she managed to force herself into sleep.

A/N: Huge thank you to Puffgirl1952 the 2nd, 23, mickypants, and NadiixD for the reviews! Shout out to all our new followers and favorites too! :)

Get ready for some Sigurd & Ivar 'bonding' next chapter! There will be Ivar & Rúna time in there as well, don't worry. ;)

This chapter and the next have been kind of... therapeutic? Writing out some of the feelings concerning the current state of the world without focusing directly on it, I guess you could say.

Anyway, I love you all and I'll be seeing you with a new chapter soon! Take care and happy belated holidays!