Hanging On Part Thirteen

Thank you so much to all you wonderful, patient people who have stuck with this story :-) I have to apologise; my mock exams start on Monday and go on for two weeks, so I will *try* desperately to get the parts out, but please bear with me. I really *do* need to pass these exams, even if they are just mocks. And my eternal thanks to all of you who commented on the last part :-) You are truly inspiring!

Anything you have to say would be adored, pored over, delighted in, cherished and quite simply worshipped!

Ki

Hanging On Part Thirteen

Kel was stunned for a moment.

And then she had neither time nor breath nor desire to be anything but caught in this beautiful, blazing moment.

She felt the Gift sweep through her in that tender, powerful wave, wrapping both of them in watery wings. She didn't know she had dropped the sword she was holding and had her arms around his neck. She didn't care that the air around them burned with an eerie, lovely cobalt fire. She only knew that this boy was kissing her with passion and affection and it was what she wanted.

And then he drew back and stared at her with eyes that glowed like sunlight through sapphires. His voice was huskier than usual as he breathed, "Mithros."

"I know," she whispered, dazed.

Kissing Neal had been sweet, gentle. Kissing Ryan had been like...lightning and sunshine wrapped together.

"Mithros," he said again, not letting go of her. "That ain't...never happened afore."

"No," she said. Her mind didn't seem to be quite working properly.

She kissed him.

And that gentle, Gifted lightning twined itself around them again. It was incredible. It felt like every single sense had been heightened, as though she hummed with energy that was completely unearthly; an energy that came from something strangely human. Everything seemed suddenly quite clear-cut.

He drew back, those eyes wide and swirling with emotions she couldn't quite identify. "I'm very glad you're holdin' onto me," he told her, "or I reckon I might just fall off this log an' straight on the ground."

Kel could hear her heart thundering in her ears, like horses' galloping hooves. "That was...interesting."

"Ye know this changes things?" he said softly, finally, running a finger down her cheek. "We ain't just friends now, Keladry o' Mindelan."

Things were already changed, thought Kel. To her surprise, she found thinking of Neal didn't seem to matter much at all now. She was realising that perhaps it hadn't really since she kissed him. Was it really *him* I wanted? she thought. Or was it just the *idea*?

"No," she echoed. "We aren't."

He hesitated, those blue-beyond-blue eyes glowing with Gifted fires. "This what you want, Kel? Only...I didn't exactly give ye much choice."

"If I hadn't liked it, I'd have hurt you," she told him. "How can I put it...right in the base chakra."

"Oh my," he drawled. "Doin' your bit for natural selection, then."

His hair was startlingly tousled from where she had run her hands through it, soft to the touch as cat's fur, and that wonderfully firm mouth was slowly curving into a wicked smile. Every inch a streetrat, thought Kel, and liked it.

"Can I...ask you something?" she said enigmatically.

"Depends on what it is."

"Who gave you that scar that the alicorn healed?" she asked, her voice very tentative.

His face darkened briefly, shadows slipping into his eyes. "My da. He hated me...he never wanted me in the first place, an' after my ma ran out an' left him saddled wi' a useless runt, he loathed me. Used to beat me all the time, till I'd been screamin' so long I hadn't any voice left and my face hurt so bad I couldn't see or feel anythin' but the pain."

"But why?" said Kel, bemused. She couldn't understand how anyone could treat a child so.

He shrugged. "Said I looked like my ma. She left him all alone, an' I think p'raps he really did love her. One day, he just got tired of me, he'd been drinkin', like, an' he cut me wi' a knife. Kept hittin' me, I was so scared, an' I could run by then, so I just scarpered fast as I could, but he caught me, an' kept hittin' an' kickin' me." He paused, and Kel could feel him shaking. "You know what the worst part was?"

"It all sounds so awful," she whispered, looking at his face because she owed it to him to listen, not to look away and not to pretend that this dreadful thing hadn't happened.

"There was people there, Kel, an' they could see him kickin' seven kinds o' hell out of me, an' they did nothin'. I guess they was scared, but it hurt me. I was only a kid, an' I didn't know what to do. Eventually, he left me for dead in the gutter. Maybe the scar's gone now, but I can't forget." Those eyes had dimmed to their soft, shadowed grey again, and Kel could see leagues of pain in them, deeper than the darkest ocean. "I can't forget. I've tried so hard, an' even the Gift ain't any use."

She didn't have anything that could make what had happened to him better or at all justified, so she let her silence say what all the sympathy in the world would not; that he was here now, and that he was someone she was proud to know.

"That's enough o' that," he said, seeming to shake himself. "Ye don't need to hear my sob story. Tell me about yourself. All I know is what the rumours say, an' accordin' to them, ye should be eighteen feet high an' a sword-wieldin' maniac."

Kel snorted. "Rumour got it wrong. As always."

He grinned. "I guessed that."

"What do I say?" shrugged Kel. "I want to be a knight. Fighting isn't what I do, it's part of who I am. I love it – I love the challenge and the wit you need, I love the honour it demands. And maybe there are still people who don't like me, but maybe I don't like them much either."

"That tells me a lot about what ye do, like," said Ryan gently, "but it don't tell me much about who ye are."

Kel didn't know what to say. Talking about herself just seemed so horribly arrogant – it wasn't her. She would do what she had to, whether she enjoyed or whether she didn't, and either way, she wouldn't boast about it. It was how she was and that was that.

"Anyways," he murmured, "I'd best take my Gift back. I ain't been told what happens if I leave it in someone who ain't used to it." Then he flashed her a charming smile and said, "An' we'd best get some sleep. From what Master Salmalin said, tomorrow ain't goin' to be a dream journey."

She relaxed and closed her eyes, preparing herself for the loss of this colourful, flaring world. The wonder of having the Gift had never struck her before, but now she felt almost saddened by the loss. She thought he would use the crown chakra again; but instead, the streetboy kissed her throat gently, where the third chakra lay and she felt the warming light flood away.

When she opened her eyes again, the world was strangely dim and grey, a mist of swaying shadows and spiky shapes. She let him guide them back to the safety of the warded circle, her senses still adjusting to the obscurity of the ordinary world.

They stepped over the sleeping form of Bruna (Kel saw a curious shimmer on her face that Ryan informed her in a low voice was tearstains), proud even in sleep, but Kel still felt sorry for her. She was truly alone.

"Sweet dreams," yawned Ryan, slithering onto the ground and pulling his cloak over him. "Hope they're as sweet as you." She could make out the mischievous smile he gave her.

Kel considered throwing something then took it for the compliment it was. "Goddess bless," she told him.

She heard a half-laugh. "If only."

* * * *

Andrea woke up slowly to the first faint strains of delicate dawn light weaving through the tiny skylight. Like a subtle, haunting tune, the light fell over her dusty golden hair, slid over her grimy face and onto the tiny form of the child who hugged close to her. Gliding over the filthy floor, it illuminated the weary, aristocratic features of Marcus of Kennan who slept lightly, ever wary. Andrea's head lay across his legs.

Someone was shaking her.

She sat up, blinking sleep-heavy eyes and saw the cold, elegant features of the red-robed mage close by.

Andrea gasped and shrank back. She felt Marc stir, his hand reaching out instinctively to check Shari was there before his eyes opened, the deep smooth brown of them hazy and briefly confused.

"The Arachon wants you, girl," the mage said shortly. Andrea noticed a new set of red weals sweeping across the right side of her face, as if a ser of claws had hit her hard. "Up."

"Leave her alone," said Marc softly. "The Arachon can talk to me."

"Don't be stupid, Marcus," the woman said. Andrea blinked. They talked as if they knew each other. "The Arachon's tired of you. And you know what happens if it gets bored with something."

"Laird..." There was a plea in that voice. "Not her. She can't tell that monster anything it doesn't know. She's innocent."

"Weren't we all once?" snarled the woman bitterly. Her black, slanted eyes were unreadable. That glaring red robe was like a gash of blood against the dimness of the cell, clinging to a tall, willowy body. "I've not spent seven years covering up and protecting you so you can throw it away on the first pretty face that walks in."

Andrea looked from one stubborn, set face to the other and saw something that she hadn't before. The same haunted look in both eyes. And she realised that the mage was as much a victim as Marc was, as Shari was.

"Marc?" she said, her clear voice making him look over instantly. "What's going on?"

Marc sighed. "It's nothing, Andrea."

"It's something, Marcus of Kennan," she said firmly. "And you're going to tell me what."

The mage's empty black eyes turned to her. She must have been dazzling once. She was still beautiful, but time and pain had cut lines into her skin and the faint shimmer of scars lay across her face. "So you do have a spine. Well, you may not when the Arachon's done with you, girl."

"Marc?" persisted Andrea, ignoring the mage.

The boy looked at her, at her pleading eyes. "It wasn't entirely by accident the Arachon took me," he said slowly. "Or any of us. There's...something she wants from us—"

"Marcus," the mage cut in. "What business of hers is it?"

"She's here, isn't she?" snapped Marc. "Do you want her to end up like us?" He gestured to his legs. "I'll never walk. You'll have those scars for the rest of your life..."

"Scars?" murmured Andrea. Their grimness, their utter lack of hope terrified her. How could anyone have stayed here for years beyond count, unable to escape such a monster?

"Yes!" spat the mage. "Scars!" She pushed the red robe aside, and lifted up her tunic to show a stomach slashed with four deep red gouges. "I have these all over," she said, her voice shaking with anger and despair. "When the Arachon is angry, I'm what it sees first."

"Why can't you escape?" she asked, looking up at the unreadable oriental face. "You must be powerful, surely..."

She thought for a moment the mage wouldn't answer, the bitterness swelling in those fatal eyes like a stormy sea. Then the woman's gravely voice filled the air. "Not powerful enough. Do you know how immortals are made?"

"Dreams," said Andrea, remembering with pain her mother's silky-soft voice telling her that as Andrea lay shaking with fever one winter. Her hand smoothing Andrea's forehead, warm and tender. And the next winter, that hand lay cold and still, and Andrea was alone.

"Yes. Normally. But the Arachon wasn't." Startled, Andrea's golden eyes snapped up, liquid as honey, to see the red mage slam her fist into the wall angrily. "It was made by the gods. It has their power, their magic and we are nothing to it. Nothing at all."

"Have you even tried escaping?"

"Of course I've tried!" the mage shouted furiously. Her wrath turned on Andrea, potent as steam. "You think this is what I want? To be caged and beaten day after day? I wake up and I *envy* the dead, because at least they can have peace!" As suddenly her fury was gone, and she said tonelessly, "The Arachon wants to see you. Come on, girl."

"Laird..." began Marc quietly.

The mage gripped Andrea by her arm and pulled her up with surprising strength. "No."

The boy tried to pull himself forward, but he couldn't drag his body fast enough as the mage hauled Andrea after her. "Laird!" he shouted. "Laird, don't, please!"

And the dead, chill voice made Andrea's bones turn to stone. "Be quiet, Marc. There will be enough screaming soon."

* * * *

Neal and the Lioness were fencing when Daine came in. His green eyes were narrowed in concentration, sweat in a fine film across his face. The Lioness was moving *fast*, a red-haired blur. Swords flashed like fish under water, clashing and sweeping through the air. Neal was clearly losing, and as his knight-master flicked the sword from his hands, he grinned and yielded.

"That was good," the Lioness remarked approvingly. "You've improved, Neal."

"Not enough," he replied, picking up his sword and checking it for nicks. "You'd think I'd get tired of being humiliated." He gave her a wry grin.

"It didn't look too bad to me," the soft voice of Daine Sarrasri interjected.

Both of them turned to see the Wildmage looking fresh and lovely in a formal wintery blue dress. Her hair was swept up, decorated with glittering blue gems. She looked like she had stepped from a fairytale.

"Not another Court gathering," groaned Alanna, resistant as ever to anything where she couldn't carry a weapon. "I suppose Jon sent you, the sadist."

Daine arched an eyebrow. "You know you love the Court really." She giggled, for a moment her age as the Lioness threw her a filthy look. "Jon said he wants his Champion present; he's got some important news. Oh, Neal, you have to be there too. Your friend Phillippa ha Minch told me totell you..." She frowned, briefly confused. "She choked the grapevine?"

Neal wondered what Pip had cooked up. "Of course, Daine," he said. "Did she say anything else?"

"Watch out for fireworks." Daine's blue-grey eyes met his and she shrugged. "The King didn't say anything to me about fireworks tonight. Maybe it's a secret. You know what the nobles are like."

"Hey!" he and the Lioness said in unison.

The Wildmage shrugged. A cat wandered in and taking one look at her, leapt up. Startled, Daine caught it and the tabby purred contentedly. "You're not noble. Not really. You work too hard."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not," growled Alanna, but she was smiling. "All right, Squire, present yourself at Court tonight and in the meantime, you can go and quiz Jon's squire about what's going on. Then you can have the rest of the afternoon off."

"Mind if I accompany you?" said Daine. She swept up her skirts as daintily as any court lady and Neal was amused to see she had good sturdy boots on underneath. "Aren't you going to offer me your arm, Neal? Honestly, for someone with such pure blood, you're amazingly unchivalrous sometimes."

He obeyed, and they strolled around the palace, looking for Zahir abn Nazir, the King's squire.

"So tell me about Phillippa," commanded Daine suddenly. The question was a lightning bolt; he hadn't been expecting it at all. "I've heard a lot about her, Neal, and knowing the Court, none of it's true."

"She's just a girl," Neal said and then thought about it. "No. She's not *just* a girl. She's...different."

"Neal, you're being about as clear as mud," the Wildmage told him exasperatedly. The cat, now half-slumped over her shoulder and cradled in her free arm, mewed in agreement.

He grinned at his friend. He had gotten over his crush on her (and it even embarrassed him now to think of it) and found out that being friends with her was far more rewarding. Even if Numair Salmalin was *still* too old for her.

"I don't know...she's not like the other noblewomen, all giggly and fluttery, but she's not as rebellious as the Lioness either." Neal thought about it. "She's a noblewoman and intelligent. I didn't know that was possible."

"Don't let the Queen hear you say that," warned Daine. "Is that Zahir?"

Squinting against the bright winter sun, Neal could make out the tall, dark figure doing hand-to-hand combat with the Shang Horse. And holding his own. They ambled over, waiting by the fence of the practice square until Zahir finally went flying. "I yield," the Bazhir said reluctantly.

"Not bad," the Shang Horse said, giving the squire a hand up. Almost exactly what the Lioness had said to Neal. "I think you cracked my rib." He grinned showing white teeth. "Ah, Neal! Feel like a bout?"

"No."

"Good, neither do I." The Shang Horse was as merry as ever, his black hair messy and dusty from the fight. "Feel like doing some healing?"

"Sure." The Shang Horse did have a cracked rib and Neal set to work repairing the bone, green fire sparking from his fingertips. "Zahir, you know what's going on at Court tonight?"

Zahir shrugged, handsome face expressionless. "Not a clue. Why do you want to know, Queenscove?"

"The Lioness wants to know. You haven't heard anything?"

The Bazhir boy was spinning a knife in his hands. He was lethal with any kind of blade, almost as good as the Shangs themselves. "Something to do with Carthak, I think. But apart from that, no. He wanted as many of the knights and mages back as possible." His tone wasn't friendly, but it wasn't hostile either. Zahir didn't seem to care for anyone or anything.

"Not all of them are," murmured Daine. Other animals had come to twine around her feet as she perched on the fence, uncaring of the damage she was doing to her dress. Neal supposed she would get Kitten, her dragon ward, to clean it up. "Numair's out. So's Keladry of Mindelan. Sir Payton and Joren of Stone Mountain are up in the northern villages. There've been rumours of attacks on the Gifted. I think Inness of Mindelan and his squire are there too. And the Fifth Riders are over at Port Legann."

"Still, if he wants everyone back at Court..." mused Neal. "That means this is serious."

"It always is round here." The Wildmage hopped off the fence. "You get used to your life hanging by a thread."

"Like that hem," pointed out Neal, as the girl looked down and realised she had ripped half the skirt on a nail.

"Mithros curse it!" She ripped the rest off to reveal that she was still wearing a tunic and breeches underneath. The Shang Horse and Neal burst out laughing – Zahir smouldered, clearly disapproving.

"You don't change, do you?" said Neal.

"We have a saying in the Yamani Isles," Hakuin informed them. His dark eyes were bright with laughter. "You can clothe a lamb in silk, but it will still taste the same."

"I hope you aren't planning to cook me!" Daine pulled a face. "I've had that happen too often."

"Well, if you will go around as a deer..." muttered Neal, who had been responsible for hitting her with a slingshot during a university hunt some years back. "You're asking for trouble."

She glared at him. "And you are begging for it."

"I don't beg!" Neal said in mock-lofty tones. "I'm a noble."

"True," she agreed meekly. "Nobles don't beg. They steal." She laughed as Neal mouthed furiously, unable to think of a reply. "Come on, Neal. I have to go and change and you have to get ready for this mysterious soiree!"

* * * *

"Your name."

Hot, scaly breath wafted over Andrea like misted poison and she thought she might collapse from the sheer fear. She lay quivering against the wall, her broken arm screaming in pain. Pure terror kept her looking into the grotesque reptilian face with its pink scaly skin and three purple eyes.

"Andrea Kirisra," she answered in a tiny voice.

She had refused to answer the first time it had asked, and it had backhanded her with one immensely powerful limb.

"Tell me about the boy."

For a moment, she was caught off guard,. The boy was her secret; her secret rescuer who was joined to her somehow, who sought her even now and whose magic combined with hers to make a deadly, dazzling force.

"I..."

Steel slid into its voice. "Tell me about the boy."

"I don't know," she whispered. "He's just a boy. I don't even know his name."

"Tell me how you reach the boy. How you make this joining of your Gifts."

"I don't know," she said again. "He just...turns up. When I'm in trouble or hurt or—"

Its claws crushed onto her legs. She was so shocked by the pain that exploded in her, filling her like boiling water, that she couldn't even scream. She even couldn't remember her own name. Her hands scrabbled at it, unaware of how the tiny sharp scales lacerated her hands, how the tendons stood out on her body as she fought against the pain.

No, she would not scream, she would not give them the satisfaction, but oh the pain, she wouldn't, she wouldn'tthepainshewouldn't…

She felt something inside her flex, like a bird unfurling its wings, as the pain roared up her body, taking her over.

Flex. She could feel it, rising against the pain like a rush of cool amber wings, soaring and taking her with it. She felt herself leave her body briefly, leave that pain and reach out across time and space to the one soul she hunted...

She heard his voice, at first thick and foggy, dulled by the distance between them. And as her spirit-body flew across the land winking by in a roll of dark green and brown, it became clearer...

He was in trouble.

He was dying.

* * * *

Thoughts? Comments? Opinions? I'd *love* to hear what you think!

Okay, let me just stand up 'cause I was totally floored by all the comments. I think the only things I can say are WOW and THANK-YOU! You're all absolute angels! Thanks to:

The astounding Ariana: Kawai? What a great word! And it describes you too :-) I'm quite a big Kel-Neal 'shipper too, but what the story wants, the story does. Whether I like it or not! Thank you :-)

The cracking cool: I think that said it all! And I obey :-) Thanks so much!

The divine Daine: I haven't had any visits from Emmaline (but she is free to drop in!). I suppose it could turn out like the wild magic, but I think Ryan has more control than that...I hope he does! There is no good reason for school :-) Except the vending machines and their vast stocks of chocolate...thanks!

The delectable Dead Flower: Thanks :-) Well, you may be right on the relationship front – you may not...you get to see more of the Arachon soon! Thank you so much!

The fantastic FireLily: I truly have no idea how the relationships are going to work! But well...let's see how it goes. I made the same mistake with Salmalin for *years*. Then one day I actually noticed...it's very weird how you can read something and yet not see it! Thank you :-) Oh, you remember that time I forgot you? The Xing review thing arrived in my mailbox today! Finally!

The glorious Gabs: Hiya! I'm elated that you like the story! No, I haven't written any novels (oh, I wish!). Maybe one day...one far distant day...

The heavenly Harkly: Thank you :-) That part just wrote itself really (I love when that happens. I can switch my so-called brain off for a while.) Bruna's fahjer…watch out on that front. Merci beaucoup!

The jaunty Jaelawyn: I'm sorry I haven't emailed you yet – I've been revising for my mock exams (ick!) The parts will be heading your way very soon – of course you can post it on your site, I'm so honoured!

The jocose Jinx: You lucky hagen daaz blessed person! Enjoy it! I have to create my own characters, otherwise I feel really guilty about using TP's...I mean...she took all that time to create them, and here swan in I to use them for my won devious needs...thanks!

The kick-ass Kali: I have the ominous feeling this will end up as more than one story. I have this problem where I have complete lack of ability to *stop* writing…so Andrea and Ryan…well, I don't know. I'm really not sure at all!

The kosher Kierce: Short and sweet! Thank you so much!

The kalos Kira: I love plot twists :-) They're so much fun! Thank you!

The luminous Lady Silvermoon: Wow! Short, simple and fabulous ~ thank you so much!

The lovely Lily Potter: Kel doesn't have the gift, but she's just experienced how it feels to have it. Does that make sense? I'm thrilled you're enjoying the story – thank you so much!

The magnificent Mage Melery: Poor Cleon! Flushed down the toilet? Oh dear! Thanks :-) Like I say, that part did write itself. And I have a penchant for dark, buried secrets :-) hence the halflings! ::goes scarlet:: Truly, I'm not that good! Thank you though!

The matchless Maple: Uh...Ryan seems to have other ideas. :-) And so does Kel! Thank you both for all your compliments! It made my day! I'm sure there are men like that in real life. I'm also sure they're all married, locked up or gay (no, I'm kidding, please don't sue me!). Thanks for the vibes! I did have a happy week!

The miraculous Mel: Thank you :-) If it makes people happy, I am happy! So I am one hell of a sunny bunny today! I'm writing as much as I can when I can...

The merry Merc the Mage: Ack, I don't want to be the cause of heart attacks in anyone :-) But thank you for reviewing ~ I try to get the parts out once a week...I don't think I could stop posting if I wanted to!

The marvellous Midnight Angel: Thank you :-) I'm so happy that you like it ~ I hope you enjoy the rest too!

The magical Molly-Ann: My half-term is in two weeks, so I will write loads then and send it to you to beta for me! Thank you ~ you're an angel.

The 'nspiring Noel: The look to your blood thing…argh...I wish I could explain but I can't 'cause it'll ruin the story! Pip is going to get a very, very wholesome revenge on that qubota Vinson! It's partly why Bruna's so evil...there's other stuff too. Thank you so so much for that heowge review!

The priceless Perfect1: I confess! You spotted the huge, huge hole in the story that I didn't even realise existed! Thanks! I'll go back and correct that at some point...thank you for telling me! Sometimes I'm incredibly dumb.

The quirky Queen of Sheba: I hear and obey, O royal one! Relationships are my favourite parts of stories – what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic :-) And proud of it – thanks!

The quixotic Quartz: I could argue with you about the evilness of various people, but I'd be here forever so I won't :-) Authors? Crazy? Surely not? I was so positive we were all a bunch of well-balanced beautiful sane human beings. Nicotine in Wild Magic? Well, that would explain why no one seems to smoke in Tortall...

The splendid Saphron: Thank you! I don't know that it's as good as Tammy's (I don't think *anything* could be!) but thank you for such a phenomenal compliment!

The sensational Scarlette Faerie: I thought they were kind of a cute couple too...I have no idea if they'll alst or not though! (This shows you just how much control I have over the characters). Thank you! I'm delighted that you like it!

The singular Shannon Cooper: Don't apologise for not reviewing! It's my privilege if you do! (Believe me, if I started demanding reviews, you would be perfectly within your rights to shoot me.) I'm so happy you like the story! Gracias!

The superlative Silver Moon Tigress: I aim to make it interesting :-) That way you don't get bored (hopefully!) and neither do I!

The sparkling Slim C: Thanks for reviewing! Daine will appear as and when she wants to :-) Thanks!

The superb Sparrow: I don't know how long it'll be. As long as it needs to, I guess :-) Sorry, that's not much help! Love interests are breaking out all over the place! It's like a disease! Thank you so much!

The sunny Steph: Thank you! I truly don't know about the relationships...relationships that pass in the night and all...it depends how long the story is, what happens...

The terrific Team Socket: How can I refuse anyone who makes puppy eyes? Thank you!

The tremendous Tyr: Nah, you're not slow – Marcus *is* related to Cleon (which does come into this story) Glad you like Ryan/Kel :-) They're interesting to write! Ta!

The wicked Wazzup Girl: Thanks! I know all about cats – I have two rabid beasties who pretend to be them occasionally...I'm taking it you're happy about Kel and Ryan? :-)

The outstanding :o): Well, there's definitely a reason why they say revenge is sweet! (And a dish best served cold.) It'll be…fun...Pip's smart enough to make life very difficult for Vinson. Marc...well, everything has a flip side :-) Thank you!