Neteyam wasn't unconscious for longer than a minute or two. After a moment of lying there limp with his mind adrift, he opened his eyes and blinked up at the sky. Through a fog of condensation and fungal spores on his faceplate, he could make out treetops waving against the blue and a hazy white patch that might have been one of the moons, all distant and blurry behind the curls of the helicoradians. For the moment at least, he could not hear the engines of the flying machine. He'd made it to the ground in one piece.
He rolled over and tried to get up.
This was a mistake. Neteyam was banged and bruised all over. Blood had seeped through his shirt on his right shoulder, where he'd scraped it on the stone in the cave and then hit it again as he'd crashed through the canopy. His chest ached, with a sharp pain under his left arm every time he inhaled. His right wrist was sore when he kept it still, but when he tried to put weight on it, it felt like it had been broken all over again. Raising his head made the world spin violently, until he felt like he was going to throw up, and his nonexistent tail was aching apparently just because everything else was. He was wet and sticky from the water in the bromeliad and the sap of the parachute tree. One of the giant leaves had come to rest on top of his legs, and in crawling out from under it he slipped and rolled into the stream.
He groaned and shut his eyes again. Never mind climbing, it seemed this useless human body couldn't even fall.
A few more minutes went by, and Neteyam's head started to clear properly, allowing him to crawl out of the stream and sit up, slowly this time. Yes, he felt like he'd been trampled by a sturmbeest, but at least he was still alive. That was lucky on several levels – first that he'd survived the fall, and second that nobody had found him lying there. The Sky People would have dragged him back to Site Nine, and anybody else who found an unconscious human in the woods would take the opportunity to kill it without stopping to ask questions.
The first thing he needed to do now, then, was make himself look less like an enemy to any of the People he might encounter. Clumsily with his one good arm, he pulled off his shoes and stockings, and peeled off the wet and bloodied button-down shirt. He was still wearing a dark tank top underneath it, and he tried to take that off, too, but with his injuries it was too awkward and hurt too much, so he decided to leave it. He rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, and then used the water in the stream to wash his bloodied shoulder and scrub the layer of sap and spores off his breathing mask so he'd be able to see again. The cold water was very soothing to both his injuries and his muddled head.
Now able to see and think clearly, Neteyam had to figure out where to go next. The Noro river was in Omatikaya territory, but Site Nine was not, and he didn't know how far along they'd been when he jumped. He needed to find a landmark.
The stream was a good start. It would almost certainly flow into the Noro, or if not, to the other large river in the area, the Kureyon. Once he came to either of those it would be easy to tell – the Noro was shallow and fast, the Kureyon deep and slow and full of fish. From there he could find his way back to Hell's Gate, and there he could borrow a flying machine and go east.
Exactly how Neteyam would pilot the machine, he wasn't sure. He had seen it done, of course – the human sat in the little cockpit and used levers and buttons to tell it where to go. It looked complicated, certainly much more so than flying a banshee, where rider and mount were thinking in unison and knew exactly what to do. Hopefully he could figure it out when he got there.
He turned downstream and climbed up from the muddy banks to the moss, taking a moment to savour the sensation. It was good to feel real earth under his toes, rather than just the soles of sweaty, confining shoes. Dad had once described how the first thing he'd done upon waking up in his avatar was to dig his feet into the ground, to feel a sensation he hadn't experienced since an injury had robbed his human body of the use of its legs many months earlier. Neteyam now had an inkling of how that must have felt.
Then he heard the sound of a flying machine. Neteyam looked up, but saw nothing. Even so, he crouched in the shadow of a tree as the noise got louder and louder, and stayed there until it faded again. He had no idea if that were the same craft he'd jumped from, but it would make sense if the Sky People were looking for him. He would have to be very careful.
Neteyam had only gotten lost once or twice in his life, and only as a small child. Now he had only a vague idea where he was, but as he set off along the mossy banks of the stream, he wasn't particularly worried about it. The hard part had been getting away from his captors, and now that he'd done that, even with his injuries this didn't seem so bad. Not being able to use his right arm wasn't great, but a useless arm was better than a useless leg, which would have kept him from walking. The forest was full of dangers, but they were dangers he knew, and it didn't feel as hostile as the human facility. The creek had to go somewhere, and sooner or later he'd figure out where.
The only thing that was really worrying was not knowing how far it was from anywhere. The humans' flying machines were very fast – they could be faster than banshees if they wanted to, although the one he'd ridden in had gone slow so the animals could keep up. A couple hours' flight from Site Nine might be several days on foot, and he now had some very personal experience with the fact that humans had short legs and were not fast. What was he going to do if he didn't make it to Hell's Gate by nightfall?
Water wouldn't be a problem as long as he kept close to the stream, as long as the Sky People hadn't been dumping poisons in it like they had the part of the Kureyon that flowed through their city. Food wasn't quite so urgent, as it was possible to go longer without it, but Neteyam hadn't eaten since an early breakfast that morning and he was already a little hungry. Humans could eat a few of the things that grew on Pandora, and he'd seen some familiar fruits and greens in the cafeteria at Site Nine, but most of their food they cultivated for themselves. The safest thing would obviously be to wait and get something to eat when he arrived at Hell's Gate.
The sound of rustling vegetation brought him out of his thoughts. Neteyam stopped and crouched down for a moment, not wanting to run into anything unfriendly, but then the foliage ahead of him parted to reveal it was only a small group of tapirus, three or four, coming to the water to drink. These were harmless creatures the Omatikaya had used to keep as livestock – they would eat nearly anything, and were a good way to turn scraps into meat. They'd had to leave them behind when they moved to High Camp, though.
Something seemed to nibble at the back of Neteyam's memory then, as if he'd forgotten something important, but when he tried to think about it properly it slipped from his grasp.
He stood up again and approached the group of animals, figuring they would flee. The tapirus did raise their heads and their kurus rose, but after looking at him a moment they returned to their drinking. That made Neteyam pause – these ones were used to having people around. None of them were decorated, as the ones that lived with the Omatikaya had used to have ribbons tied to their kurus or designs painted on their armoured heads and sides, so it had been a while since they were cared for. But they didn't mind his presence, or even get out of his way as he tried to pass them.
Neteyam slowed his pace as he continued down the steam. If he were near people, he would have to be wary – he might find help, or he might be taken prisoner or killed. The fact that Tapirus were waist-high on him was another sharp reminder that he no longer looked like one of the People.
He had expected the animals to wander off again, but instead they followed him. Maybe they figured anywhere a person was going might have food. They did not behave as if they were being herded, frequently stopping to pull up plants and dig grubs out of the soil, and Neteyam ignored them in favour of paying attention to his surroundings. He had a feeling he would soon see something familiar... and before very long, he did.
First it was a boulder in the stream that had cracked in two long ago, the cleft providing a safe place for amphibious organisms to lay their jellylike eggs. Then it was a tree where a fallen limb had left a scar that Neteyam and Lo'ak had used to snicker over because it resembled something obscene. Finally a stone covered with handprints where children had been playing with paint. He knew where he was... and nobody here was going to hurt him.
Smiling in triumph, Neteyam lengthened his stride, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he scrambled over rocks and fallen trees towards his destination. If he was right, it ought to be just up here.
The tapirus realized he was moving faster and began to trot, not wanting to be left behind if free food might be awaiting them.
Neteyam scrambled up a slope and parted a thick stand of ferns to reveal the remains of a path. It wasn't something constructed, just a place where hundreds of feet had walked over a decade and a half, pushing the vegetation back and compressing the soil. He followed that, and then, there it was. The Omatikaya village.
It had been abandoned for many months, of course. The dwellings had all been dismantled and many of the pieces had been taken away to High Camp, but there were traces. There were the paths where people used to walk, not only down to the creek for washing and drinking, but between dwellings and meeting places and storage. There were shards of pottery and scraps of textile that had been left behind, either forgotten or just old, broken, torn, and no longer useful. Carvings in tree trunks and drawings on stones.
Now Neteyam knew exactly where he was. If he'd wanted to, he could have climbed right back into the dwelling where he'd grown up. The one where Dad had carved lines into a pole to keep track of how each of the children were growing. The one where he'd first learned how to knap obsidian, and where Mother had shown him how to mix body paints, and where...
... but he didn't, because he found himself confronting something new.
The village had once ended at the fence that surrounded Hell's Gate. The fence had mostly been there to keep wild animals from raiding the humans' crops. The gates had always been open to the Omatikaya, and the jungle foliage had grown up both inside and outside the fence itself. Both peoples had come and gone freely.
There was no fence now. Instead, the jungle just... ended.
It was like a line down where the middle of the village had once been, where the grass, ferns, trees, and even the remnants of constructions gave way to bare, dry earth. The tapirus continued to nose around in the foliage, apparently unconcerned, but Neteyam pressed himself against a tree trunk so as not to be spotted across that open space. He moved cautiously from sheltered spot to sheltered spot until he reached the very edge of it.
There was Hell's Gate, looking much further away than it once had across all that bare ground. The gardens and fields the humans had once maintained were gone, and there was just that dead ground right up to the buildings proper. There were new things, too. Big towers had been put up, and new levels added to what had once been familiar structures.
Seeing this, Neteyam realized two things.
The first was that this sterilized ground was the same thing that surrounded Site Nine when he'd seen it from the air. It looked less flat up close. The lack of vegetation showed every little rise and fall of the landscape in sharp relief. For a moment he wondered why they'd taken the fence down, but he soon realized it was to deny any approaching person a place to hide. To get to the complex he would have had to cross this big open area, where the Sky People would easily see him coming. Even most animals wouldn't dare to try. A fence was redundant, and the materials could be used elsewhere.
The second was that this was familiar. It was a similar moment to Neteyam blinking in confusion at Quaritch shortly after awakening, only to remember that he'd already known the Sky People were making new avatars. He knew that they'd re-taken Hell's Gate, and yet somehow during all his planning that had slipped Neteyam's mind entirely. He even remembered letting his siblings spend some time with the humans after a long period when everybody was too busy for such things... Dr. Spellman had dangled Tuk by her ankles, Kiri had watched old recordings of Dr. Augustine, and Prisha Patel had pulled Neteyam's tail. Why did he remember that happening at Hell's Gate, when it couldn't have?
Did he remember it being there? Or... when he thought back now, had he been seeing metal walls, or stone caves?
Neteyam crouched down and held his head. Maybe he'd just thought of that as being Hell's Gate because that was where the humans had always been, and the setting was less important than the events themselves? Why hadn't he ever corrected himself? Was there something wrong with his memory?
With a chill, he remembered Nguyen saying that they'd gotten more of him back than they'd thought they would with a quick scan. But had they? Neteyam hadn't had any memory problems in the caves, but they hadn't gotten very far into them. Would he have reached where he thought Tuk's tunnel was, only to find he was mistaken? He had spent almost all his time in unfamiliar environments ever since waking up in this body. Now that he was in a place he knew, there was this awful mismatch between memory, assumption, and reality. What else might he have forgotten?
What would it mean when he got back to people he knew? What would happen when he spoke to somebody like Dr. Spellman or Dr. Patel, or even to Dad... what would happen if he told them I am Neteyam and they wanted him to prove it? What if he said you used to dangle Tuk by her ankles and told her not to tell Mother and Dr. Spellman said, no, I didn't?
This was so overwhelming and terrifying that for a few moments Neteyam couldn't move. He'd faced down all kinds of physical threats in his life, but this psychological one wasn't something he was prepared to handle. He sat there hugging his knees to his chest, his ribs aching in time with his quickened breathing, and gazing blankly out at that bare, exposed, ugly stretch of ground between himself and the place he'd thought he needed to go. He obviously couldn't go to Hell's Gate, and he'd wasted time trying. Now what?
Well, he knew where help was. Assuming the rest of his memory was accurate, at least, he had to get to High Camp.
That was a daunting prospect. High Camp was hours away on horseback, and Neteyam didn't have a horse and couldn't have ridden one if he had. Then he would have to climb the floating mountains to get there. Could he even do that when he couldn't even climb that stupid wall, when he was injured, when his arms wouldn't reach as far as they used to? Neteyam couldn't remember ever feeling like a task might be impossible for him. He'd always been good at things, ready for any challenge. But now...
One of the tapirus nosed at his injured shoulder and grunted. Neteyam hissed in pain, then reached over to push the animal away. "I don't have any food for you," he said. "I don't even have any food for me."
The interruption was, however, at least enough to get him to his feet, and he retreated back into the remaining half of the village. It was a good thing there was still some of the ruins left, because Neteyam was going to need a way to defend himself. The village was the best place to find one.
Sorting through the underbrush and digging around beneath where dwellings had been, Neteyam found several items that had simply been discarded, but which might now be useful. There was a length of leather that had once been a rein, which he used to tie his braids back out of his face. There was also a broken child's bracelet, which he carefully repaired with a piece of dry reed. Even then it was far too big for him. When Neteyam tried to put it on, it went up above his elbow and was still loose enough that it wouldn't have stayed in place.
Then he started to find the things he was actually looking for. When people abandoned a home, they would leave a gift behind for the place to remember them by. The Sully family had buried a pretty pottery bowl that the kids had all eaten from when they were little, but Neteyam didn't need that. He found what he was looking for under a former dwelling closer to the stream – an obsidian knife with a handle made of carved hexapede bone. It was huge in his hands, but the edge was sharp and it would be effective both as a weapon and for butchering. Neteyam tied the scabbard around his wist, since his shoulder hurt too much to put it in the usual position around his chest, and then buried the bracelet instead.
"I'm sorry I have to take the knife," he said aloud. "I offer this as a replacement, and I'll return it as soon as I can. Thank you for your help."
That done, he took a long drink from the creek, and set off towards High Camp.
Walking through the jungle alone could be dangerous, but Neteyam couldn't stop going through his memories, trying to find more gaps. It was an unnerving experience, because memories weren't always reliable anyway, and details were easily forgotten. Even so, there were things he was pretty sure he ought to remember that he definitely did not.
He remembered the attack on the train, and trying to talk Lo'ak out of going down to help. Neteyam knew he'd failed at that, and he knew he'd ended up getting hurt... but he didn't remember anything much of the actual events, just being scolded afterwards. He remembered how worried Tuk had been to see him bleeding, and he remembered telling her something Dad had once told him: blood was red because it had something in it called hemoglobin, which moved air around the body, while skin was blue because it was full of azuline, which kept the sun from burning you. The middle of the story, however, the actual injury and the events at the train, was missing.
He remembered Pawk, of course. He remembered the day he'd tamed her, and the first flight – those things were far too important to ever forget. She was the green colour morph, while Lo'ak's Tìtstew was blue. After the ceremony there'd been a festival to celebrate the new warriors, and Grandma had taken Neteyam aside and told him not to be too proud, because pride led to carelessness... or had that been at his festival? Because he seemed to remember seeing, out of the corner of his eye, Lo'ak sitting sullenly on the sidelines. Had that been after Lo'ak's failure? Was he conflating multiple incidents, like he might be with the visit to Hell's Gate?
None of this was reassuring, because it meant he didn't know if he'd forgotten something else important. What if Neteyam made it to High Camp only to find the People had moved on and he didn't know where they'd gone? Was it really just his own family who'd abandoned this land and gone to live with the reef people? Or was it the entire clan?
No, somebody still had to be there, because somebody had stolen and hidden the Sky People's explosives. But the more gaps he found in his memory, and with the knowledge that his family had lived for months among the eastern islands and he had no memory of that at all, he had to wonder... was he even Neteyam? Even if he could convince them he remembered most of his life, would they still think he counted as their son and their brother?
He was pulled out of these terrible thoughts by the sound of another flying machine low over the area. Neteyam slid down among the roots of a tree and pulled the leaves of a kettleflower over his head. Mother had taught him that these were warm because the heat attracted pollinating flies looking for carrion – which meant they could be used to foll the heat sensors the Sky People used to hunt. Why could he remember that, but not how he'd been injured at the train?
This time he caught a glimpse of the machine moving in slow circles over the remains of the village and the surrounding forest. The sound of its engines seemed to last for a very long time, and the longer Neteyam crouched there in hiding, the worse his ribs hurt from the uncomfortable position. When it finally moved away, he stood up and stretched, only to find that hurt, too. His wrist had swollen up until the skin felt tight, and his stomach was gurgling. He was going to need both food and medical care, probably sooner than he'd liked to think.
He couldn't waste time trying to remember things that probably didn't even matter right now. He had to focus on moving, covering as much ground as he could before nightfall.
So that was what he did, but progress was still slow. One by one he passed familiar landmarks – the sturmbeest trail, a tributary of the Kureyon River, the stone that looked like a face – but they seemed further apart and the terrain was more difficult than Neteyam was used to. He was definitely going to have congratulate Spider on being able to keep up, and maybe ask him for some advice on how to do it.
Spider was, he realized, also a possible source of advice about food. Neteyam could remember seeing their human friend snacking on fruit and eating a few things when the family had a meal, but he couldn't recall exactly what it was Spider ate. Was that another gap in his memory, or had he just never paid particular attention?
As the afternoon progressed, Neteyam's hunger became harder to ignore, and as he stepped from rock to rock across a stream, he reached to brush an insect off his arm and found the skin unexpectedly warm. It looked a little flushed, too – he held up the other arm to compare and they looked the same colour, but when he turned them over to see the inner surface, the one that normally faced his body, that was definitely less ruddy and not so warm. What was that? It didn't hurt, but there was something worrying about it that was all out of proportion to the actual discomfort. Maybe it was a human thing.
Shadows got longer, and finally the sun dipped below the treetops and the auroras began to light up the sky, dancing across it in blue and green curtains. Neteyam could see nocturnal-hunting banshees taking flight across the lights, and the tinier specks of stingbats. And then finally, he crested a hill and was able to see on the horizon, against the giant crescent of the planet, the irregular peaks of the floating mountains. They were still a long way away, but he was going in the right direction.
First, however, he was going to have to find a place to spend the night. The darker it got, the more the jungle echoed with the cries of viperwolves and other night-time predators. The tapirus had wandered off hours ago, finally accepting that Neteyam wasn't going to feed them, so he wouldn't even have them to alert him of an oncoming threat. The glow of the plants and insects around him was becoming visible in the gathering dusk. Soon he would be all alone in the dark, with no weapon but a knife.
That was what had happened to Dad after he'd jumped from the falls at Kilvanoro to escape the Thanator. He'd ended up surrounded by viperwolves and would have been killed if Mother hadn't found him. What had he done to try to ward them off? It had been something foolish, something that had attracted more of the predators rather than frightening them away... but Neteyam couldn't remember that part of the story. Another gap. This was the tale of his parents' first meeting, of the moment his own birth became a part of their future, and he couldn't remember part of it.
He did remember that Dad had been determined to stay up all night and keep his avatar safe until a party could be sent to look for him in the morning. Neteyam didn't have that option. Nobody would be coming to rescue him except for the Sky People, who would only haul him back to captivity. He had to keep moving, but his injuries hurt worse and worse and his feet were sore. Breathing hard as he slid down a gravelly slope was particularly painful.
Neteyam's parents had taught him that if he were alone at night, he should get up someplace high, but he could hardly climb a tree with a broken wrist and his ribs and shoulder hurting. It would have to be somewhere on the ground, but if he just curled up among the tree routes the predators would find him at once.
The sun was well down, and the jungle was glowing all around him in a dozen hues of blue, green, and gold, when he noticed something through the trees. Something he recognized at once, but which he didn't think should be in this particular place – bioluminescence in a distinctive shade of blue-violet. Neteyam made his way towards it, and soon found the source: a young tree. The top of this still had leaves for catching sunlight, but the lower branches had started to put out the trailing tendrils through which Eywa could speak to her creatures. A sapling of the Sacred Tree.
Perhaps it wasn't surprising that Neteyam hadn't seen this particular tree before. It was clearly very young, and not yet able to get all the nutrients it needed from the network of underground roots and fungi that fed the adult trees. It might only have been in the past year or so that it had started putting out tendrils... or it could be another gap in his memory. Neteyam didn't know and, for the moment, he didn't care. He climbed over a pile of rocks, pushed back the overhanging branches, and stepped into the tree's light.
There he automatically took a handful of the tendrils and reached for the back of his neck, then had to stop as he found again there was nothing there, only dangling braids and skin with the same off-putting warmth he'd earlier felt on his arms. He couldn't talk to the Great Mother anymore, any more than he could ride a banshee. This body just wasn't capable. The tendrils were buzzing slightly against his palm as they always did, full of life and love, but he couldn't touch it other than to press it against his forehead, where the breathing mask left some skin uncovered. Maybe through that he could hear something.
Nothing. He stood there perfectly still for a long time, waiting, but Eywa was silent.
The grunt of an animal got his attention, this time something much bigger than a tapirus. Neteyam opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder, and saw a dark shape moving through the foliage – a female titanothere.
He froze. Males were, by and large, cowards that would back down from anything that looked like it would put up a fight, although Neteyam's human body might be too small to intimidate it. A female was another matter, though, especially if...
Sure enough, this one had a calf with her. The female stopped on the edge of the little clearing that was starting to form around the sapling, and lay down there, up against the rocks Neteyam had just climbed over. The calf settled next to her, and their kurus connected so it could feed.
Neteyam watched this in silence, and then wondered if Eywa was trying to tell him something after all. Was this a safe place to spend the night? No predator with an ounce of sense was going to come near a mother titanothere with a calf. The female would take on a thanator... but she didn't seem at all interested in Neteyam. It seemed like she hadn't even noticed him.
He took a handful of the tendrils again, hoping the Great Mother could hear him even if he couldn't hear her, and said, "thank you." Then he found a place among the soft moss at the roots and lay on his left side, where he wouldn't be on his bruised ribs. His stomach was still grumbling, but it was just going to have to wait. He shut his eyes.
Neteyam's dreams that night were unusually vivid, things plucked from old memories. He was standing by the side of the creek near the village, where the water collected in a still pool, pulling a bow to shoot at a fish. Dad was behind him, whispering encouragement but not moving or speaking aloud for fear of scaring away their quarry. The string pulled tight, the bow quivered as Neteyam held it, and then when the moment was right, he loosed the arrow.
"Good shot! Go get him!" said Dad.
Neteyam hopped down into the water to pull out the fish, still alive and wriggling on the end of the arrow. He turned around and looked up at his father...
Then sat up suddenly as a beam of light and a roar of loud noise came down from overhead. For a moment he was confused, unsure where he was. He couldn't see anything clearly, just shapes and shadows and an explosion of pain in his ribs every time he took a breath, and...
Then the light moved on, and Neteyam saw spots for a few moments before his eyes adjusted to the softer glow of the tree. He was still lying at the base of the sapling, his ribs aching worse than ever as he panted from the scare. The sound of the flying machine faded.
Something moved around Neteyam, and he looked down. Tendrils of white ghost lichen, the same kind that grew over the dead when the People placed their bodies among the roots of the Tree of Souls, were retracting from his body. Had... had it thought he was dead and tried to consume him? He struggled to his aching feet and looked down at the ground.
The glow there went out, and the lichen shrivelled up and vanished.
Neteyam looked around. He could hear the sound of heavy breathing that was not his, and spotted the mother titanothere, sleeping with her calf not far away. They were still not interested in him. A fan lizard took flight from a branch and vanished into the forest. Other than that, everything was quiet, but something didn't feel right.
Then he heard the voices.
"This is ridiculous," a male voice said in English. "He fell from the damn Kestrel. Even Emily thinks he's dead."
Neteyam very slowly lowered himself back down to a sitting position and leaned on the tree, trying to look like part of it. He couldn't tell which direction the sound was coming from, and human ears couldn't swivel to check. He just had to hope they didn't notice him.
"Then we gotta find the body," a second voice replied, this one female. "Quaritch wants to recreate him as soon as possible, and the scientists won't do that until we know for sure he's dead."
A twig snapped under a foot. Neteyam hardly dared breathe.
"Stop!" the female ordered suddenly.
"What?" the male asked.
The titanothere gave a sleepy grunt, and Neteyam realized that the speakers, whether human or recom, were on the other side of the animal, blocked from his view – and he from theirs – by its hulking body. It began to get to its feet, awakened by the intrusion.
"It's a mother with a cub," the female said. "Fall back."
The titanothere bellowed a challenge, and there was an alarmed shout. "We need extraction!" the man exclaimed. "Extraction, now!" Then there was the sound of running feet as the intruders took off with the mother titanothere on their heels. The calf remained where it was, crouched among the undergrowth where it was less likely to be seen.
Neteyam sat down again with his back to the tree and breathed out. He'd interpreted the message correctly – he was safe here. The Great Mother was looking after him. With her help he could sleep the rest of the night and make it to High Camp just fine.
"Thank you," he murmured into the darkness. "Great Mother. Thank you."
Of course there was no reply, but there was a rustling overhead as birds took flight, as if she were acknowledging that she'd heard him. With that as reassurance, Neteyam closed his eyes and went back to sleep.