Krev the Skinner fled as far as his cowardly legs could carry him, to the Whiterun Stables, where he paid the Driver to take him to the Rift, effectively escaping the distracted Vigilants.
He had never had the misfortune of fighting against two Werewolves at once, and it cost him several of his good men. All that was left of the Silver Hand were the ones in the Rift.
He vowed to make Cura and the Companions pay for this. The enmity between the factions was definite now. It had been light; abstract; before. Now, however, after what transpired, whether he would have been destroyed by the Vigilants, or would he have killed Cura, the damage was irreversible. Truly, this misfortune could only be brought about by a Daedric Prince.
Cura wiped her eyes as relief filled her spirit. Aela truly was not as cruel as she led others to believe. Even though she held animosity towards the Vigil, she would not allow Cura to kill them, as she understood how much they meant to her.
Then agaib, perhaps their time with the Silver Hand only served to make the Vigil look better by comparison.
"Let's return to Jorrvaskr." Aela suggested. "The others will want to know what happened."
Cura quickly shook her head. "No... I can't risk an episode like that to occur in a populated city. I will have to remove this Ring first... it's cursed."
Aela was curious now. "How did you come across the Ring of Hircine, anyway?"
"To make a long story short, a werewolf who had the same problem as me asked me to give it to the Vigil to be rid of it, but it attached itself to my finger." Cura recalled events. "It's been nothing but a burden ever since."
"You'll have to take it directly to Hircine." Aela informed her of the unpleasant surprise.
"I don't deal with Daedra." Cura spat.
"You'll have to, otherwise the only way to be rid of it is to sever your finger. Would you rather that?" Aela stated flatly, appealing to her common sense.
"Get me a dagger." Cura insisted. "I would rather cut off my ring finger than deal with the perversion of a Daedric Prince!'' She held out a hand, expecting a knife.
"And if it simply moves on to the next finger?" Aela raised a brow at the lack of rationality. "Will you simply sever the remaining ones?''
Cura paused. It was true. If it were the case, it would be senseless in maiming herself over her aversion to the Daedra. And would most likely amuse Hircine in the end. Daedra were sadistic as such. Save for Meridia and perhaps Azura.
"So, how instead should I go about it?" She looked at the accursed ring and felt a chill on the air.
"There's a white stag; a magnificent beast in the forest." Aela stated. "It was surely placed on this plane by Hircine. Hunting it should prove yourself worthy for an audience with the Daedric Prince."
"I..." Cura paused. Was she really going to do this? "All right... where in the forest?"
"It was last sighted North of Falkreath." Aela explained. "Best get to it before another does and wins his favour instead."
Cura nodded. She needed to get this done as soon as possible. "Thanks, Aela." She bolted down the natural ramp formed through the trees, leaving Aela behind.
As Cura raced, she could feel a twinge in her chest and she began to sweat profusely. She could feel her senses heightening and her fingernails grew sharper.
Not again!
The Ring glowed on her hand and she began to transform again.
Cura quickly threw herself into a ditch that she spotted nearby. Hopefully climbing out would tire her inner beast slightly so as to not hurt anybody.
As she lay there in the dirt, Cura, with the last of her humanity, prayed to Stendarr with the hopes that her wolf would not harm anyone, save for the Stag. She wasn't sure if Stendarr would even want to hear from her anymore.
After a few moments, Cura blacked out.
The roaring monstrosity scraped and desperately clawed her way out of the large gap in the landscape and raced through the forest. Slowly, but surely, the wolf began to diminish and Cura could find herself slowly realizing what was happening around her. She was running through the trees, in her Werewolf form. The bloodlust was powerful and sickening, but she could think!
Stendarr, is this your doing? She thought to herself.
Relief.
She hadn't felt this relieved in days.
Now, she could calculate her next move. She began to hastily surveille her surroundings, in search of a mysterious white stag. With her claws and fangs, she could certainly hunt it!
She lifted her face and smelled the air. She could detect the presence of humans further South, so she knew she is was North of Falkreath. She could detect some Rabbits, some Deer, and then something different. At first, it seemed like a Stag, but there was something ominous about the scent.
That had to be Hircine's stag!
Killing it might just feel cathartic, after all. Cura rushed westward, following the trail of scent, and eventually came upon what looked like an ordinary Stag, but had white fur and flesh, and was larger, by a foot, than any other Stag she had ever seen.
Cura took no chances. She rushed quickly as she could, and leaped into the Stag, burying her teeth in its side and causing it to scream. It tried to kick her off, but Cura only flipped it over and, using her claws, tore out it's throat, killing it immediately.
As blood poured out into the grass, Cura began to shift back into her Human form.
The Stag's blood began to bubble, and eventually began to take the shape of the half-naked man with the Stag head that she had seen the first time she had transformed. "Well met, Breton." the visage spoke cordially.
"Hircine." Cura spat out the name as if it were a rotten seed.
"I am the spirit of the hunt, just one glimpse of the glorious stalker that your kind calls Hircine." The Daedra boasted.
"I've killed your Stag." Cura locked eyes with him.
"And skillfully, as well. I've been watching you for ages, it seems. You have the makings of a fine hunter. You may even be my champion. Perhaps." Hircine said with a smirk, visibly impressed with her ferocity.
Cura's face coiled with disgust. What nerve! Her? Be his Champion? Not even if Masser and Secunda came crashing down. "Remove the curse from this Ring!" Cura demanded. "Allow me to remove it! It's caused nothing but trouble!"
"I may consider it. But you must first do a service for my glory. The one who stole it has fled to what he thinks is his sanctuary... just as a bear climbs a tree to escape the hunt, but only ends up trapping himself. Seek out this rogue shifter. Tear the skin from his body, and make it an offering to me." Hircine proposed, amused by Cura's defiance. He would dare ask a Vigilant of Stendarr to make an offering to him.
"You put this curse on me." Cura narrowed her eyes. "I will never make an offering in your evil name!"
"Evil? Good and evil are arbitrary things to us Daedra." Hircine mocked. "We are beyond such petty things. We are either bored or amused, truly. Cursing one of your ilk was quite amusing, and you continue to amuse with your defiance! Ha, ha, ha..."
"I'm not here to be your benefactor." Cura pouted in frustration. "And I am certainly not going to do as you ask, you fiend!"
"There is no benefaction I seek from you, Mortal, but the blood course of a living hunt. There are others who would gladly accept my favor. They will hunt him while you delay. Your choice." The apparition spoke his final words and vanished on the western wind.
Cura was at an impasse.
No matter where she would go, the curse would haunt her unless she won the Daedric Lord's favour. Though, winning his favour would violate the tenets of her Order, and go against her very Religion. She's already done enough harm in becoming a Werewolf. Carcette has been very generous to her, and she knew that it was mostly due to nepotism. Though that could only take her so far.
She had to go to Bloated Man's Grotto and fight Sinding to the death. She wanted to muster up the hatred to slay him, but all she could do was sympathize, having had to walk a mile in his shoes with the cursed Ring. It could just as easily have been her to murder the poor child.
The thought horrified the Breton.
She would do as Hircine asked... if for no other reason than to spare the innocent civilians her ferocious wrath.
Though, she would want to ask Sinding if he had any information on the location of the Glenmoril Coven. After all, she could not simply stroll into Jorrvaskr at the moment and ask Kodlak to elaborate. Nor could she face Carcette after what happened, so she was no longer a viable option, either.
Her only slim hope of a cure was Sinding.
Her only slim hope of being rid of the Ring that tormented her was killing Sinding.
Cura pondered a way out of this maze, when it dawned on her.
Cure the Lycanthropy first, then the Ring will have no effect on her! Of course!
She would spare Sinding-perhaps even help him become cured, himself. If he were a Werewolf in Skyrim, it would have to have come from the Glenmoril Witches.
The Breton's hope was renewed with the insight she had shed on the subject at hand.
She quickly hurried Northwestward through the mountainous boreal forest.
"The Silver Hand?" Jarl Balgruuf scratched his beard. "Yes, I have heard of them."
Keeper Carcette knelt on one knee before the forum. "They pose a threat to the security of your Hold." she explained. "They've attempted the life of one of your Thanes, as well."
"Cura, the Dragonborn?" Balgruuf pondered, considering who he was communing with.
"Yes." Carcette admitted.
"You say the Dragonborn was captured?" a deep voice came from behind, up the stairs in the hall. Kodlak Whitemane entered the forum.
"Harbinger, a pleasant surprise!" Balgruuf swept a hand in the air cordially. "Have you news to bring?"
Keeper Carcette momentarily stared at Kodlak. Something seemed a little off about him.
When the old Nord noticed the Keeper of the Vigil, he motioned a polite bow. "My lady."
The Keeper nodded to him in response. Was this the Leader of the Companions?
"I take it you know about what happened with Cura and the Silver Hand?" Carcette asked him.
"I had heard about exactly that." Kodlak stated. "I've come bearing a warning. We must have diligence in our City, my Jarl. It is only a matter of time before the remaining members of that band of Brigands assault our city in an act of vengeance."
"And the Vigil shall help defend the city, as well, in the event of such an attack. We have reason to believe that the Silver Hand are secretly dabbling in Daedra worship." Carcette stated. "After all, they have the capability to infect people with Lycanthropy."
Kodlak cautiously looked over at the Keeper, when the words suddenly dawned on him. Cura hadn't told her that it was through the Companions. She lied about Farkas' blood on the Silver Hand's blade.
She lied to her Master to defend their honour, bless her heart. The Old Nord knew he was onto something when he first saw her.
"They are very dangerous, I've heard." Kodlak played along. "I've heard that they sell Werewolf pieces to the Thieves' Guilds throughout the Empire. We, the Companions, have been looking into them for a while."
Keeper Carcette normally would not bat an eye at this, but this time it disturbed her. "And they were about to try and do so with one of our own."
She acknowledged that they all had some sort of tie to the Dragonborn: her Protege, a member of the Companions, and a Thane of Whiterun.
"You are correct, Keeper." Jarl Balgruuf leaned back in his seat.
Irileth, who stood silently by spoke up. "According to our law, assaulting a member of the Court is as brazen as attacking the Jarl himself."
"Then place a bounty on their heads!" Carcette exclaimed. "Ban them from ever showing their faces here again!" Her tone was both stern and demanding, seething with unwitheld fury.
"Yes; this group proves themselves to be a problem." Proventus, who listened intently finally spoke up. "If we don't do something about them now, they'll most likely grow stronger in the shadows. We need to have them attacked on sight; treat them as a bandit clan."
Kodlak felt a sense of satisfaction. This group that has been growing warmer to entering the city will be pushed back into the fields. Hopefully this will grant him peace in his quest for the cure.
"Very well. Let it be done." Jarl Balgruuf waved a hand, gesturing to him.
"Thank you, my Jarl, for your graciousness." Keeper Carcette bowed her head down and slowly proceeded to stand back up.
The Jarl nodded and dismissed them. After all, he had a city to run.
As Carcette was heading out, she stared at Kodlak again. "Did you tell her about the Glenmoril Witches?" She demanded to know.
Kodlak was taken aback. "Er, yes. Yes, I had. She posed a question on the... condition she was in."
"And I'd like to know what you know about them." Carcette crossed her arms. "Surely you've done your studies. Where are they located?"
"Shouldn't you know, being a True Breton?" Kodlak deflected. "The Glenmoril Coven long have tormented your people."
"And yours too, apparently." Carcette sneered at him. "I can see you for what you are, wolf. I can only assume you're seeking a cure, yourself."
Kodlak was silent. He was in no position to deny the assertion. "Yes. I am."
"Was this done to you by the Silver Hand?" Carcette asked.
"Yes." Kodlak brazenly lied.
The Keeper squinted her eyes at him in moderate disbelief, but ultimately decided to relent for now. If he does anything suspicious, they'll bring him down, but for now she'd take him at his word.
"Where are the witches?" Carcette asked.
"Glenmoril Coven is a cave Northwest of Falkreath." Kodlak explained. "I can't chance dying with my... condition, I am sure you could understand, otherwise I would have hunted them myself."
The Keeper nodded as she took in the information. She then headed past Kodlak and headed to Tolan and some other Vigilants on the bottom of the steps.
Kodlak hoped that Cura was all right; he wouldn't wish Hircine's Hunting Grounds upon her.
Carcette and Tolan discussed what she had learned and quickly set off.
One of the Vigilants turned to look at Kodlak, who was descending the stairs, with disdain before she left with the leading pair.
Cura nearly lost her footing as she descended the mountain cliff. She quickly caught herself and instead aimed gor a splintered edge, which shelanded graciously to and planted her feet firmly upon it.
After a few hops along, she reached the entrance of what looked like a crevice in the mountain; a grotto.
Bloated Man's Grotto.
This was it. The moment that she was waiting for. She was going to rescue Sinding, in open defiance to Hircine.
She tread inside cautiously, biting her lower lip as she maneuvered softly, so as to not make a sound.
A red, eerie light shone through the crevice as a blood moon hung above; much like the one in the vision Cura had before her first transformation in the Cairn.
The hunt had already begun. Was she too late?
As she approached what looked like a bloodsoaked campsite, she saw a mortally wounded Khajiit hunter lying against a blood-splattered stone, near his disemboweled comrades. This was the work of a werewolf, evidently. Sinding was not playing around. "Has the Bloodmoon called you, fellow Hunter?" the Khajiit called out to her weekly.
"Wow..." Cura mused. "What happened here?" She knew the answer, of course, but she wanted more details.
"The prey is strong. Stronger than the hunters. But more will come. Bring him down, for the glories of Lord Hircine." The Khajiit coughed out blood as he intensely gripped his abdomen. He seethed in pain and wheezed. He didn't have much time left.
Cura looked the other way and continued walking as the Daedra worshipper breathed his last and slunk down the rock, revealing his spilling entrails as he moved his arm upon his death. She had business to deal with of her own at the moment, and it would potentially save more lives. This hunter made his choice, in the end, and sided with Hircine willingly.
Eventually, Cura reached a pass, where a voice called out to her in forlorn sadness. "...You! Why?"
When she looked upwards to the direction of the voice, she saw a large werewolf standing atop a rocky spire with the moon at his back.
Sinding.
"I've been sent here to kill you." Cura informed him with no intent to deceive, though it was not her intent.
"And I would deserve it, wouldn't I? I can't stop you if that's what you want to do. Hircine is too powerful. But if you spare me, I can be a powerful ally to you. And I would promise to never return to civilized life. I know now that I can't live among people." Sinding admitted forlornly.
Cura could empathize with the man, considering what she had gone through since receiving the accursed ring. More than anyone, she understood his plight, and his fears. The Breton quickly relented. "I will spare your life, Sinding. Killing you was not my intention of coming here."
"Thank the gods. Now let's deal with these other hunters. We hunt together!" Sinding extended the invitation, and Cura obliged; taking on the form of the wolf by her own autonomy this time. The white-furred beast emerged with a loud roar, confirming what Sinding already knew about the Vigilant.
Immediately, the pair of werewolves rushed through the makeshift halls of the large grove, and pounced upon the hunters with their petty bows and arrows. While Sinding savagely ripped them apart with his jaws, Cura took greater care to maintain most of her Humanity; instead deigning to use her claws as her weapon of choice; as though they were swords.
Clashing and clawing and gnawing could be heard in the night, and blood soaked the crevices. The two wolves emerged victorious and their furs matted with blood.
"The last of the hunters is dead." Cura informed him after she had slowly shifted back into her Human form.
"Thank you for your help." Sinding spoke with earnest. "I will make my home here, away from anyone I might hurt."
"You don't have to." Cura told Sinding. "I have a proposition for you."
She knew that she would most likely come to face the wrath of the Daedric Prince, but it mattered little to her at this point. She was certainly going to take down the Glenmoril Witches. Perhaps Sinding could help her in this endeavour.
"A proposition?" Sinding asked.
"Concerning your Lycanthropy." Cura told him. "I can cure it."
The werewolf looked at her strangely, almost in disbelief. "How would you do that?"
"I need to know where the Glenmoril Witch Coven is. Have you heard of them before?" Cura asked Sinding as she walked over to one of the cavern walls and leaned against it to relax in the meantime.
"They're Northwest of Falkreath. In a cave atop a hillside." You'll know it by the hanging taproots on dead trees and the effigy to Hircine they have outside the entrance." Sinding informed her. "I... wouldn't mess with them, though. You have no idea how powerful those Hagravens are."
"Hagravens?" Cura was taken by surprise. Though, when she thought of it, she shouldn't be; it was a heathen practice done by some of the Bretons in ages long past, where witches would make a Human sacrifice in a ceremony and have themselves turned into Hagravens. As she remembered from Herbane's Bestiary: "This Hagraven was horrifying, almost human but more an abomination of woman and creature fused together, nothing more than a husk of humanity surrendered in exchange for possession of the powers of dark magic."
"Yes." Sinding warned her.
"I intend to slay them; and take their heads." Cura stated. "And once I do, I will burn them; if you come with me, perhaps the release of their magic will free you!"
"Free me?" Sinding scoffed. "Why would I want to lose this gift?"
Cura's face fell immediately. What?
"You... want to be a werewolf? Even after all you've done?" She raised the question. She was under moral obligation to Stendarr before anyone else.
"Yes." Sinding stated. "I enjoy the power, the strength, the stamina... the exhilaration!" He raised his clawed hands. "I will live here, as a werewolf. I will harm no one as long as I remain here."
"You made it sound as though you wanted to be Human again." Cura stated, her distrust slowly growing within. She held a hand to the handle of her mace and she took a step back, turning her torso from Sinding so he would not see her reaching for her weapon by that angle.
"No; I embrace what I am." Sinding admitted. "I just sought better control over my transformations... but now I realize that it's something I must do on my own; not with the Ring of Hircine."
Cura stared at him with impunity. She could not allow him to walk away a Werewolf; he could potentially continue onwards to harm others. Though, she was conflicted, considering she had befriended Aela the Huntress, who was a werewolf as well, but had greater control over herself.
The Breton was stuck.
On one hand, she had her honour as a Vigilant to uphold; but it was compromised. Stendarr desires most of all integrity in judgment. If she were to kill Sinding right here, right now, she would also have to kill Aela. And the rest of the Circle, lest she bear the stain of hypocrisy before her god.
Though, Sinding murdered a little girl. Whether intentionally or not, he was not willing to dispel the curse that led him to commit such an atrocity. The Breton was at an impasse, and her emotions were raging within her. She thought about the poor parents in Falkreath, and how she vowed to bring them justice.
She would not break her vow.
By her honour as a Vigilant, she had to carry out Stendarr's justice; no matter how harsh it may seem.
She slowly drew her mace, and Sinding stared at her blankly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, Sinding." Cura looked away for the moment. "I gave you a chance to turn your life around. I don't trust you to remain here for the rest of your days. One day, your will shall lapse, and you will attack somebody on the road; perhaps a Bandit, perhaps Innocent Traveler. For a bandit I could look the other way, but I cannot bear the idea of innocents being harmed, or Stendarr forbid; another infant with their parents."
"You're going to kill me." Sinding spoke sadly. "I don't blame you.. but I won't just sit here and allow it." He raised his arms and prepared his dagger-like claws. "If I have to tear you to pieces to have peace... so be it."
Cura gave out a sad sigh, and then turned to face her foe with her own brand of ferocity. "By the Vigil of Stendarr, I condemn you to death!"
Sinding immediately made a rush towards her, claws ready to strike.
Now, Cura was going to employ the lessons she had learned from training with the Companions.
She quickly slid over to the side and swung her mace downwards, catching the beast by his kneecap and causing him to stumble and fall. Sinding hit the ground and Cura quickly cast a fire spell, burning him from a slight distance. His fur caught fire easily, and the immolating werewolf began to jump and thrash about violently while he ignited.
The werewolf eventually flew into a violent rage and rushed Cura down, clawing at her chest, which prompted her to quickly block with her shield. The intense throttling from the beast's claws pushed Cura backwards inch by inch per smack, causing her knees to buckle.
Sinding was relentless, and Cura struggled to keep up with his increasingly fast and powerful strikes. Trying to see her surroundings would result in her head being split open. This caused her to hit her back against the wall, where Sinding found an opportunity, swiping her sideways into the air. Cura flew some distance to the side and hit the floor with a brutal thud, and rolled onto her back. Before she could pull herself back up, Sinding jumped on top of her, pressing her down with his immense weight and slowly began to try and sink his teeth into her throat.
Cura grabbed Sinding's muzzle and attempted to push him off of her, but to no avail. The werewolf swiped her in the stomach with his claws, causing a horrific pain to tear her inner being as she could feel every fiber leaving its position, exposing her lower layers. She had to do something fast!
Then she remembered what she had forgotten for a while, now; she was Dragonborn.
"YOL TOOR!" Cura shouted in the beast's face amidst the searing pain. A cyclone of flame exited her throat and engulfed the beast, causing him to fall backwards and thrash about.
Cura quickly took the opportunity to cast a healing spell upon herself, closing the near-fatal wound. She ran ahead quickly, and approached the thrashing werewolf, nearing his face. She placed a firm grip on the handle of her mace, and then proceeded to bring it down quickly, battering his head.
"KYAH!" Sinding shouted when the blunt weapon connected with his nose, shattering the cartilage and bone below.
Cura grit her teeth, and quickly brought it down again, causing him to cry out once more.
A part of her pitied the creature, but she remembered that he chose this precarious path. She thought to the little girl who was now buried in Falkreath Cemetery, as well as her grieving parents, who never should have gone through that. Sinding was not responsible. He was unsafe.
She brought the mace down several more times, ignoring the pleas and screams of the violent animal before her.
Sinding's claws thrashed in the air, unable to hit the Breton as blood obscured his frenzied vision.
Cura refused to relent. She continued to smash the creature in the head until the cries and movement stopped. Eventually, Sinding's clawed hands dropped to the floor, once and for all.
Cura huffed and heaved as she stood there, overlooking the monster. Her mace was held within both hands, and it dripped with the blood of the lycan. Her chest raised and lowered with each laboured breath. She nearly dropped her mace, but with a shaking hand, she hitched it back onto her right hip.
She wasn't thinking; she only walked in a circle in attempt to find the campsite and entrance. When she had, she trembled as she walked through it. Her legs were heavy, like shackles pinning her to the ground, and each step felt like a droning mile.
"Well met again, Hunter." A voice spoke to Cura as she reached the outdoors. The aspect of the Daedric Prince Hircine approached her once more.
"I defy you and your vile tasks." Cura spat at the Daedra. An intense hatred filled her chest for him, and for all that he had forced her to live through.
"So you may think." Hircine noted in amusement. "By bringing down my other Hunters, you turned the chase inside out. And they were no base prey. And to top it all off, you have slain the prey by your own volition, in reverence to your own god in spite of me. You continue to amuse and impress. Go forth, with my blessing."
With that, the vile spirit dissipated into the air, and with him a heavy and dark aura followed. Suddenly, Cura felt an immediate change. She looked to her left ring finger, and noticed that the Ring of Hircine was lighter-feeling. She quickly wrapped her right set of fingers around it and slipped the fiendish article off her hand.
She released a sigh of relief.
Thank Stendarr!
The curse was removed. The Daedric Prince actually upheld his end of the bargain, and dispelled the curse from the ring! Perhaps Hircine had more honour than she gave the Hunter credit for.
The night around her was peaceful, and the air was fresh. She heard the somber song of midnight crickets in the air around her, and she gazed upon the two moons: Masser and Secunda, which illuminated the sky.
The Breton sat down on a rock nearby to catch her breath. After everything that happened, she was happy to be alive. She had slain her first Werewolf, and Skyrim was now a little safer for it.
As her cold breath filled her vision in the chilled air, Cura's thoughts returned to the family at Falkreath. Lavinia was now avenged, and future incidents were prevented. So why did it feel so bittersweet?
After a few minutes of calm had passed, Cura pulled herself off the rock. The first thing she would do is bring the Ring of Hircine to the Vigil. Keeper Carcette would lock it away from the world. One less bit of Daedric corruption.
She pocketed the Ring.
Though, she would do so come the morning. She was feeling exhausted. The Breton decided that perhaps she'd do better to fast travel to Whiterun. Focusing on the location, Cura found herself standing at the front gate, almost ready to fall unconscious from the exertion.
"You decided to stay behind, huh?" The Gate Guard remarked snarkily.
"...What...?" The words almost slipped past the tired Cura. She knew she would never have a restful night for the rest of her life until she was cured, and it dawned on her that perhaps all of it was beginning to take its toll on her. "Stay behind?"
"Yeah. Your Leader went to hunt Hagravens. Sounds risky business to me, but you Vigilants do what you want." The Guard responded with a condescending tone.
Hunt Hagravens?
Keeper Carcette knew about the Glenmoril Coven's location? She and Tolan and the others were about to engage those fiends?
Immediately, Cura grew anxious. She quickly dashed past the Guard, mustering energy she did not realize she had, to quickly find her way to the Coven; hopefully in time to help in any way she could.
