RP Sunny and Larimar


She shivered at the sound of his voice, at the scent of his breath, all coffee and cigarettes. Cigarettes. She hadn’t smelled that since Joshua had– She cut the thought off by breathing in his breath again, letting it fill her lungs and stretch through her body like curling tendrils. She moved her hand that had been in his shirt up to his hair and pulled him back in, this kiss lasting just a fraction of the time that it felt like their first had been. The same shock went through her nervous system, but when she pulled back, her eyes fluttered open.

God, but he was beautiful. Those eyes, so like the winter sky at dawn, so clear and blue and with just that touch of ice, those eyes met hers. There was no fear in them now, no sadness, no nervousness, as if she had finally chased it all away. She shook, physically shook, at being so close to him. His words only made the shaking worse. A part of her, a deep part that she barely recognized, was crying with joy. Her soulmate wanted her, was accepting her.

She whispered back, her voice staying soft, though now trembling, “Then let me be more forward. Take me back to your room. Right now, Cheekbones.”

She held his eyes, gold to blue. Her lips parted ever so slightly, the jasmine tea on her breath mixing with the coffee and cigarettes, their scents mingling, tangling together. Tangling the way she felt her very beings beginning to tangle with his. Binding them together in a way she didn’t quite understand, in a way she knew she should have feared. Instead of fear, she embraced it, pulling lightly on his hair, her nails scraping his scalp. She embraced the way her soul seemed to stitch back together the longer they stayed like that. She embraced the feeling of her heart beating, so full it might burst.

She wanted him closer, wanted more of him. She wanted it with a desperation she wasn’t aware she was capable of. Her fire was singing for it. Her blood was singing for it. Her very bones sang his name in harmony with the rest of her. Nick ran through her veins, through her core, through her lungs, and set her mind on fire.

“Give me the address and I’ll meet you there, and I promise you won’t regret it.”​
 
She kissed him again, and the alarm in his mind went silent. It was like being at the heart of the hunt, when everything dropped away except himself and his chase. When she touched him, he felt euphoria. He felt perfect and whole and utterly calm. He surrendered to it. Let her have it. The sweet floral of the jasmine in her breath set off her natural spice perfectly. Surrounded by this scent, he thought, he could die perfectly happy. Under the pressure of her hand as her nails dug into his scalp as the faintest itch, as her other hand tangled in his curls, he could live forever.

And she pulled away again, and this time he didn’t chase, because she wasn’t fleeing. She was speaking, her voice both so sweet and rasping at the edges, with as much want in it – in her – as had ever existed in him.

Nick would’ve gone in for another pass, except the waitress came back by. She didn’t have a coffee pot in hand this time. He smiled at her, and she gave him a knowing look.

“Can I get a pen?” The waitress obliged, and he scribbled down the address and room number on a napkin. Then he pulled out enough cash to cover his bottomless coffee, a hefty tip, and at least part of Sam’s meal. It made him wish he had more on him, but he’d just been expecting to buy coffee – and gas, tomorrow. Maybe that wouldn’t be happening anymore.

He stood up, but kissed Sam on her cheek as he did so. “See ya soon, Freckles.”

And he walked out of the diner and into the night.
 

Sam was quick to clear the rest of her tab, dropping enough to cover the rest of her bill and another generous tip. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the cash from her wallet, picked up the napkin, and then moved away from the counter. She could feel eyes on her as she moved through the diner, but she ignored them, instead choosing to focus on the clear and icy eyes in her mind. The Malibu was gone when she made it outside, indicating that that was his car. She quickly climbed into the Beetle and started driving.

This gave her plenty of time to think about what was happening. It felt like it was moving so fast. They had just met, had just found each other, and yet she knew this was exactly what was supposed to happen. In the morning, they could talk about how to keep seeing each other. They both traveled, it seemed, and she wouldn’t mind traveling with him. She could work mostly online, anyway, and right now she didn’t need to work. She could take her time figuring out a steady source of income, though maybe she could just continue taking money from the Slate operations she was busting up.

God, what would he think when he found out what she was? Would he be scared of her? Sam knew she could be… intimidating, scary even. There was a violence that ran through everything she did, even through the passion she now felt. She couldn’t love Nick gently. She knew that. She knew the moment she got into that room with him, she’d be all teeth and nails and wild energy and heat. She hoped that was going to be okay. She hoped her strength and her fire didn’t scare him.

She checked the napkin again and pulled into the motel he had written down. Sure enough, his car was there, that Malibu, parked in front of the room number that he had given her. She swallowed hard as she pulled the Beetle carefully into the spot next to it. She quickly put her vigilante kit under the passenger seat, alongside her suitcase of cash. She flipped the seat cover back down, checking that it wasn’t noticeable before getting out.

She paused as she looked at that door. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as she started to walk toward it. Sam had never been with someone before, and that was really where the nerves were coming from. Not from the idea of being intimate with Nick, but from worrying about her own adequacy. And yet, she still knocked on that door. And yet, when he opened it, her hands immediately wove through his hair and pulled him down to her, her lips finding his in a fiery kiss that wanted nothing more than to consume them both.

She stepped inside the room and kicked the door shut behind them.



She waited until he fell asleep. She was equally as tired, her body exhausted, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep quite yet. Instead, she ran her fingers over his bare chest, over his jaw, through his hair. She touched him tenderly, the shaking in her hands finally gone. And then, in the softest and most tender whisper that no one would ever hear, she whispered to him.

“You know, most people never find their soulmate. Most people never get to have that joy. I don’t know why I’m so lucky. I can’t wait to have a life with you, Nick. I’m so glad you felt it too. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

She laid her head down on his shoulder, her tangled hair spread out across the pillows behind them. She curled into him, shivering at how perfectly they lined up. And for the first time since she was seventeen, Sam fell asleep easily.​
 

Samantha:

Last night was the most wonderful night of my life. You make me happier than I’ve been in a long time, as long as I can remember. I’m happy. You make me happy. And I know you feel the same. That’s why I have to leave.

Meeting me isn’t lucky. Trouble follows me around, and it hurts the people around me. It hurts the people who love me more than anyone else. I know that you think we have something special, something once in a lifetime. I know you think you love me. But I can’t have that. Not love, not a soulmate. I’m nothing but trouble. I’m going to do nothing but hurt you, so I am getting that out of the way now, before the knife is too far in to pull it out without killing you. I know this is going to hurt. And I know writing this for you is going to hurt more than telling you to your face. But if I wait until tomorrow morning, I know you won’t let me go. I’m sorry this is how I have to break your heart. It will heal without me.

The room is yours through tomorrow night. Take all the time you need.

I’m sorry.

Love Nick.
 

Sam woke up, but she didn’t open her eyes. She was warm, warmer than usual, and she could feel it spreading out from her heart. She felt like she had the sun itself nestled inside her, warming every inch of her with more than fire. Brief flashes of the night before echoed through her mind. His name on her lips, and hers on his, and his skin pressed to hers. The warmth inside her grew, and she felt whole again for the first time since Alice died.

She reached a hand out, her eyes still closed, looking for Nick’s cool skin. “Good morning, Cheekbones. Are you awa–”

Her hand touched down on cold and empty sheets. Her heart stopped, and an icy shock ran through her as her eyes snapped open. The other side of the bed was empty. Her breathing picked up, and she swallowed. In a louder voice, she called out, “Nick? Nick, are you there?”

Silence greeted her and she immediately jolted upright, a hand holding the sheet to her body. A deep unease was settling in her chest, creating a hole that sucked the sun straight down into the darkness. She looked around. At the foot of the bed were all of her clothes, folded carefully and waiting for her. His clothes were nowhere to be seen, and his shoes were also gone. The bags that had been packed by the door were missing.

A deep fear set in as her mind started to race. No, he wouldn’t have just left. He couldn’t have just left her. He felt it too, didn’t he? He couldn’t just leave her if he felt it too. She scrambled for her clothes, pulling her camisole and bike shorts back on. She rushed to the door and threw it open.

His car was gone.

She backed into the room, softly pressing the door shut. She walked back toward the bed, but something caught her eye. A piece of paper on the desk. She was quick to pick it up and read it. And reread it. And reread it again. Every single line left another fracture on her heart, tore a stitch out of her soul. She started shaking.

This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be real. Her breathing picked up until she was hyperventilating, until her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She looked closely at the note, as if she could find something hidden in the words, in the lines. She looked at the scribbled word at the bottom. There was only one word that short that would go at the end of a letter like this.

Love.

That broke the dam, and she set the letter down as carefully as possible before backing away from it. She waited for the roar of the fire to consume her as the sobs began to wrack her body. It never came. Instead, for the first time in her entire life, her flame flickered and then went out. She felt herself grow cold as she cried.

“No, no, no, no. Nick, please.” She said the words as though he would hear them, as though he would walk back through the door. She backed into the bed and slid down the side. She drew her knees in tight to her chest, letting her head fall to her knees. She shivered violently from the chill that settled into her bones.

“Please come back.”

She sat there, crying, for what felt like hours. Every time she thought she was going to stop, a fresh break in her heart made it start all over. Loud, body-shaking sobs eventually gave way to soft hiccups and gasps. But the tears wouldn’t stop. They couldn’t stop.

After all, her soulmate had left her in the middle of the night. And there was nothing she could do about that, there was no way to find him.

She thought back to the letter again, as she had almost every five seconds. It must have been midday when she was finally composed enough to really think. He had heard her whispering to him in the middle of the night. He had faked sleeping. He had always planned to leave, then. He had just been waiting for her to fall asleep. That stung so bad that she hugged herself, trying to hold the shattering pieces together.

He knew what they were. He knew they were soulmates, and he still chose to leave. A fresh wave of tears slid down her cheeks. Her lips trembled as they parted, as she whispered again.

“Please.”​
 
Observation Point, Zion National Park, Utah.
Three months later.

The pain had dulled to a throb, and the throb to a dull ache, like an old bruise that only got sore when Todd passed someone who smelled like cinnamon or motor oil. He still worked with cars, mostly his Malibu. He still frequented coffee shops. He still talked to strangers in diners and at auto shops, albeit with a little more sad caution. People didn’t seem to mind that. People, he was learning, loved to have a problem to fix, an injury to tend to, even if they could only give advice on how to make the pain stop. The soreness might never go away, but it would finish fading, eventually, with distance.

The cold was helping, for once. The reminder of what he’d done, and what he could have done, sat in his marrow like weights slowing him down, dragging him back to earth from the distant thoughts of nostalgia. He’d done the right thing with Sam, and the only thing he could have done with Arlo. At least he could think their names again without drowning, without spiraling out of control. At least he could think about food without instant, nauseating regret. He needed to eat to survive. And he would survive, because then the time since then would have been wasted. Because Arlo’s life would be wasted if he didn’t.

But he wasn’t ready. Not quite yet. The cold was creeping back, the thoughts of hunt and chase and meat all strong at the forefront of his mind whenever he spent too much time in a populated area. Four months was the longest he’d gone without hunting since discovering his monster, and he was sure he’d only made it this long because of Arlo. Even the park ranger who’d given him directions had looked worried, and asked if he was sure, because even in March, fatigue and dehydration were common problems. He must look like hell to get that kind of worry from her, like she was worried she’d get a report of his body at the side of the trail.

He’d been sure, though. And he’d made it up here just fine, taking his time along the way, putting the wilderness license he’d gone out of his way to get to good use to backpack the long trail and explore for a few days before finally making the ascent. Now that he was here, he sat down at the edge of the cliff, watching the sun set over the canyon, tinging the already orange stone a deeper red. In his hands was a single antler, a late shed from the local mule deer, if he had to guess. His camera hung around his neck; his backpack hung from a nearby tree. Overhead, a huge black shape circled. The second condor he’d seen in his time at the park.

He sighed at the big bird, at the fresh greenery below, where streams crisscrossed and cut through the valley. The brisk air kissed his skin and face in gentle patterns, like cold water run over healing burns. Even if the sting had been welcome at the time, even if the trace of her lips hadn’t hurt him, they had still left scars.

He sighed again, not quite content, not quite restless, tracing the grain of the broken antler with his fingers. It was peaceful out here. In an hour he was going to head back down for his last night of camping before returning to civilization to return to his old ways, to go back to hunting and working and surviving.

One last night, tonight, he could enjoy the stars, the cold, and the wild.
 

Sam had gotten his name, phone number, and address from the motel receipt she had asked for. It had taken her three months to finally catch up to Todd Oscar Fowler. His phone number had made him easy to track, at least at first. She had been a week behind him by the time she actually left Billings. She had found out as much as possible before she left.

She had visited his old job, had learned about the disappearance of his friend Arlo, and had been to his old apartment, which hadn’t been cleared of his things quite yet. There had been a pile of mail right inside the door, small but enough that she knew he hadn’t been there in likely a week, maybe a week and a half. She’d collected all of it, as well as a box she had found on the bed. Inside, there had been a photo of him and a tall, big black man she presumed to be Arlo. There had also been clothes, which smelled exactly like him, that faint smell of coffee, cigarettes, and mint.

She hadn’t worn one of them that day, though, as she made her way up the trail. That would have been even more upsetting than what she was already doing. Instead, she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a heavy hoodie with a leather jacket over the top, with thick blue jeans and a pair of black hiking boots. She was dressed the way you would expect a hiker, albeit a bit of a goth one, to dress. She was trying to blend in, after all. She’d even thrown her now much too long curls up in a loose, messy, and now falling apart bun.

She knew she didn’t look great. She saw it reflected in the eyes that looked at her, that took her in when she had gone into public for the brief times she needed food, to wash her clothes, or to find a place to stay for a weekend. She had lost precious weight, weight that would take months of eating three times a day to gain back. The dark circles under her eyes, which she used to be able to sleep away, had become so dark that someone had asked why she did her makeup that way. Her long hair had only gotten longer, more tangled, more unmanageable. She had cleaned up before this walk, so her hair wasn’t a disgusting mess, at least, but there was nothing she could do to hide the thinness of her legs and hands, the shadows under her amber eyes.

She was nearing the top of the trail, nearing Observation Point. She had wanted to fly, to just soar part everything until she had found the point. Instead, she had restrained herself and walked. The walk, long and rough, even though she took her time, was almost punishment for what she was doing. Punishment for not letting him go when he had clearly wanted her to.

She couldn’t do it. She had spent that extra week in Billings trying to let go. Trying to push it from her mind. She had taken a week before she had broken into the apartment, before she had gotten in the Beetle and drove, following the signal of his phone. She followed it until it was disconnected, but it was enough to have given her a pattern to follow. Finally, finally, she had found his Malibu, parked at Zion National Park.

She couldn’t let go. It had felt like splinters of glass in her heart, tears in her soul, a deep ache that she couldn’t escape. Even three months later, she was still struggling not to stop and break down in tears, as she had done every so often the last few months. Moments of weakness, like when she had pulled the car over just outside the park and had curled up in the driver’s seat and sobbed. She didn’t try to run from them. She didn’t try to hide them, either, the few times they had happened in public. There was no point in trying to outrun them. They would come all the same.

She had kept his letter. She had reread it so many times that she knew it by heart. Her heart didn’t heal without him. The longer they were apart, the more it hurt. The only reason she hadn’t curled up in her car somewhere and let go was because her need for him just barely outweighed the pain. The knife might not have been deep enough to kill her, but it had been close enough.

Sam stopped. She could see a backpack hanging off a branch. She stayed absolutely still as her heart started to beat hard. She closed her eyes, and she felt it through the earth. A heartbeat, strong and gentle, resting. Nick’s– no, Todd’s heartbeat. She swallowed hard and then moved again, her hands beginning to shake. She clenched them at her side.

Up this high, the breeze took to her hair, pulling curls free from her messy updo and lifting them in the air, and finally, all of her hair tumbled free. She sighed softly, but didn’t bother fixing it. She felt her heat floating away from her in waves, carried away on the air. Her heartbeat was in her ears as she crested the last bit of the trail. She stopped.

Todd was sitting on the edge of the cliff. Everything stopped for a long moment as she looked at him. He was facing away from her, but she knew just from those tight black-brown curls. She knew from the shape of the shoulders. She knew from the heartbeat that moved up her legs and into her own heart. She knew. The tension in her body pulled taunt.

If she left now, he would never know she was there. She knew he was some kind of meta, thanks to their night together, but she didn’t know what kind. Hopefully not the kind that would have noticed her presence yet, as she stood there, frozen. She could leave, and he wouldn’t have to know. He wouldn’t have to know she had followed him. He wouldn’t have to… deal with her.

There was something wrong with her. From the way he had left, she knew that much. She knew that she had done something wrong, maybe, or maybe she had just not been good enough. Maybe he hadn’t felt what she had. Maybe he was her soulmate, but not the other way around. Maybe she was destined to die, and so he had someone else. In some way, Sam was not good enough for him to stay. She knew what his letter said. She found it hard to believe that he had left because he thought he would hurt her.

That was why she froze, like a deer in headlights. She felt her heartbeat start again as time moved forward. She would leave. She would leave and never look for him again. She would go back to Columbus and she would keep searching for Obsidian, and she would probably die somewhere along the way. He would never have to know she was there, that she had been looking for him, her heart full of agony, for the last three months. He didn’t need to know. He would be better off without her. He wanted to be without her. He didn’t need her.

She would just leave.

Instead, she moved up, slowly, and got just close enough that he would be able to hear her. She paused when she felt his heartbeat spike. Well, it was too late to turn back now. He knew she was there. Making a quick, split-second decision, she sighed. She wrung her hands together in front of her, then, in a soft voice, hoarse from disuse, she spoke.

“Hi, Nick.”​
 
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The wind smelled mostly like cinnamon. Almost as much like apples, with undertones of jasmine and vanilla. And even without the blood or the rage echoing in the background, Todd’s heart picked up its beat before he even placed where he’d smelled a girl like apple pie before. A girl who could smell so mouthwateringly sweet, and had reason to be as crushingly sad as the wind told him she was.

“What’re you doing here?”

His voice betrayed how suddenly tight and raw and dry his throat was. He was careful not to put stress on any of the words, even as his heart pounded in his ears. Not accusing, certainly not desperate. He didn’t turn to look at her. If he saw her, if he looked at that heart face and golden eyes, he might just throw himself off the cliff and be done with it.

His fingers closed around the antler, the points digging into his palms so that the pain could ground him. He focused on some point on the horizon while he tried to control the sudden flood of emotions. As he tried to bite his tongue so that the tears wouldn’t fall. As they fell anyway, cutting through his dirt-stained face while his mind raced What was she doing here? This was – this was the worst time, the worst place. The cold jumped up like a starving wolf when he caught her anxiety, when he caught her sweetness.

And like an old wound torn back open his hatred of himself, his grief and guilt, flooded back over his body. Because the second thing he wondered was whether he could get to her throat before she could react.

So instead, he froze, every muscle pulling taut. As if he would rather become part of the stone, or would rather run like a terrified rabbit, then look or speak to her. Either of those would be better than the alternative, better than showing her directly what he was warning her about. The fear that washed over him wasn’t at all because she had found him. It was because of what he might do, now that she was here. And, as the sun hid behind the horizon, they were alone.
 

She winced at his voice. That, paired with his heartbeat– anger. He was angry she was there. Her shoulders started to shake as her breath picked up, in quick, sharp inhales. The shaking spread through her body, and she looked at the ground, clasping her hands to her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She took a soft step toward him, but that soft step became two, and that two became four, and before she knew it, she was falling to the ground behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his back. The sobs started and she couldn’t suppress them. “I-I’m so s-sorry. I don’t know w-what I did. Did I h-hurt you? Did I burn you? P-please tell me w-what I did. I promise I won’t d-do it again.”

The words started pouring out of her, three months of pain and self-hate and agony finally finding their way into words. Her whole body shook, from her hands that buried themselves in the front of his flannel all the way down to her toes that curled in her hiking boots. She shook and shook and shook against his back. Her breath came in gasps and hiccups as tears fell from her eyes to his back.

She breathed in his scent with every gasp, that peppermint scent so close to a winter breeze near Christmas. Despite the pain, despite the sorrow, she could feel her body relaxing. The feel of him against her, his scent in her nose, even hearing his voice, as harsh as it was, was enough to drain all of the horrible tension from her muscles, to dull the painful ache in her chest. The wind blew past them, getting colder. It lifted her hair in wild tendrils and pulled the forward, over his shoulders.

“Please don’t leave again. P-please don’t leave me, Todd.” His name slipped out her lips, and even in her current state, she winced. She hadn’t meant to let him know she knew his real name. He was already upset with her, she couldn’t imagine how he would respond to his name, when he had so clearly given her a fake name before.​
 
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t let himself. Not when she was so close.

Not when she was so weak.

As she sobbed against his back and blamed herself for his disappearance, his loathing only grew. It grew out of the hunger that ached at the center of his being, that thrummed in his bones, and begged him to make a hunt of her sorrow. Begged him to turn around and bite into her shoulder until the bone buckled. Begged him to pull her onto his lap and pin her in his arms while he teased her skin from her bones. Begged him to jam the antler that –

His hand was slick. He looked down at it, the first movement since she began to sob, to tremble against his back. He smelled his own blood, now that he was paying attention. It cut through the smell of her that made his mouth water until it was full. He swallowed hard, but curled his fingers a little tighter around the piece of bone. It was a reminder that the only person who could hurt him in any meaningful way was himself.

And that he was going to do it again, and again, and again, until everyone who ever loved him was gone.

His breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. She wasn’t a predator, but she wasn’t prey, either. She was a heartbroken girl he’d walked out on after making love. After she felt a connection he could never have. The word she’d said had resonated in his hollow chest and found no answer, but had instead rolled and resided there for three months while he drowned it out with other thoughts. Soulmate. You need a soul to have a soulmate. He had to make her understand that. At least he wouldn’t tear into her body while doing it.

He had slowed his breathing so his pulse fell. The tears had stopped falling when he froze, when he just listened to her crying into the back of his shirt.

“C’mon, Freckles, don’t be like that. You didn’t do anything. We had fun! But that’s all it was. Harmless fun.” His voice stayed soft, and even when she said his real name – it took him a second longer than it should’ve to remember that’s how he’d reserved the motel room – he refused to say hers. He refused to acknowledge that, because to give her humanity was to make her prey. “Listen. I’m sorry if my note made it seem like– well, I was trying to let you down easy. I didn’t realize it would hurt you this bad. But, hey, hey. Two strangers in a diner hook up. It's hardly meant to be, right?”

Every word broke his own heart to say. He knew what it was going to do to her, to be flippant, to talk about them like they hadn’t meant anything, without even looking at her. But he couldn’t let her see the set of his jaw when he finished talking. The tearstains on his face. He couldn’t. He couldn’t give her that hope.
 

He was lying. Every single word he just said was a lie. That didn’t make his softly spoken, dismissive words any less painful. They pierced through her heart, sharper than the glass, like knives of steel. Knowing he was lying didn’t stop the heartbroken gasp, didn’t stop her from freezing, tensing up. It didn’t stop her from choking on all the words she wanted to say. It didn’t stop her fire from dying down, from her skin growing cold.

She swallowed hard against them, and she listened to his heartbeat as it fell. Listened to it calm down. How could he do that? How could he even say those words? How could he lie so completely, to the both of them? She clutched at him tighter, too tight. Tight enough that her strength would become abundantly clear, but then, she had held him tighter that night.

How could he say those things when she remembered the look in his eyes when he had looked down at her?

She remembered that night at the diner. She remembered every second of it, every look, every touch, and the night following that was seared into her mind forever. What they had done was so much more than ‘fun’, and the fact that he was trying to boil it down to that in this lie broke her heart all over again. Her tears slowed, enough that she could speak clearly again. She lined her body up to his back, pressing herself as tight against him as she could.

“... You’re lying. I don’t know why you’re lying, but you don’t believe that. You don’t believe that at all. I know when people are lying, Todd. Please, just- just tell me what I need to do. Tell me how to fix this. Did I scare you? With what I said?”

She was shivering, from the cold, from her emotions, and she couldn’t help how her instincts made her seek comfort from him. She pulled back and grabbed his shoulder, tugging gently as she knelt behind him. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what I need to do. I’ll do anything, just don’t leave again.”​
 
She pressed herself closer to him as he tried to push her away, and only then did he notice how cold she was. She had burned with a fever intensity the last time they’d been this close, and now – now she was almost as cool as he was, almost invisible to the touch through all their layers. And he was sure at this proximity she’d notice the very slight tremble in his own body, like the chill wind was cutting through even his skin and muscle to freeze his bones.

He felt her strength in her embrace, reminding him of the fear that seemed so pointless now. He heard the sincerity of her words, her hollow promises, her grief and fear that were unrelated to the danger she was in . Why had he ever been afraid of her? She wasn’t the monster. She was fire, but fire could be killed with surprising ease. As she pulled him around, he turned his head halfway, just enough to see her from the corner of his eye.

It would be impossible to miss the gauntness in his profile. His bones, always prominent, could be counted if someone set their mind to it, rendering his tearstained face sharp and eyes hollow. His lips, pressed together, seemed even thinner than they really were. There were dark circles under his eyes, a sickly purple in skin that was too pale for his natural tone, even in the fading light. And those eyes, the eyes that still didn’t meet her face, that still avoided her gaze, were far too sharp, too dull, to empty, too full, all at the same time. Sharp and eager. Hungry and empty. Dull and grieving. Full of despair and full of fear.

She didn’t look much better, but he’d already known that before he saw her. He couldn’t meet her eyes now, couldn’t let her see the full extent of everything under the surface there. He curled his hands toward his chest, so she wouldn’t see the blood as he continued to press the antler deeper, so that the injury didn’t try to close with his limited resources, so that the pain could ground him.

“I want– no.” His voice rasped, but was a quiet sound, a whisper under the wind. “I need you to go, Sam. Please. There’s no fixing this. You didn’t do anything wrong, God, no. You need to get away from me. I’m sorry. I wish– I wish, God, I wish I could say more. But this is how it has to be. Please go. Before I hurt you again. Before I hurt you more.”
 

Her breath came in sharp as she took in his appearance. She felt her heart stop as she looked at him. Her lips parted slightly in shock. This man right now was barely recognizable as the man she had made love to three months ago. He looked worse than her, which she hadn’t been sure was possible. That hurt her heart so much more than anything else had so far. She felt it ache and break in two.

“Todd… what happened to you? I– no. I’m not leaving you. I won’t. There has to be something. Please.” She pressed her face to his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his. He was trembling, just like her. But she wasn’t entirely sure it was because of how he was feeling. His trembling felt more akin to the tremors you had when you were cold. Sam was a bad judge of temperature. Her internal temperature was naturally so high, and until the last few months, she had never known cold in her life.

Now, she knew it all too well. She took a few calming breaths, Then, she focused. She could do this. She could summon it back. She was with him, and every second longer she touched him, the more right she felt. Even though she was broken-hearted, even though she was suffering, and even though he was still trying to make her leave, she could still summon it, from that place deep inside her that still somehow rejoiced at being in his presence. She felt it prickle across her skin, and then it came, bursting from her in a gentle aura.

She wrapped her arms around him, and she brought her temperature up higher. She tried not to burn him, but she brought it high enough to make him warm. Then, she pulled back and reached a hand up to his face. She cupped his cheek and tried to pull him closer, tried to make him look at her.

“Please, look at me. Look at me, talk to me, tell me what’s going on. Tell me why you’re running from this. Don’t try and tell me to leave. Don’t try and tell me that you’re going to hurt me. You look scared. What are you running from, love?” Her voice was soft, but full of emotion. So much concern, so much pain, but also so much adoration. She didn’t mean for that pet name to slip out, but it was there now.

Then, she made an ill-advised choice. She rose to her knees and she pressed her face to his, in the same way she had done in the diner, with all the same care and all the same want. She still wanted him, still needed him, and she couldn’t help the way it showed in her movements, in her touch, in her eyes.​
 
There was worry in her face as she saw his. She knew his fear, but didn’t know what caused it, didn’t see the hunger that lurked underneath. He felt her body temperature begin to rise – was she doing that for him, he wondered? She had to be; or perhaps the cold and the grief simply passed, to be replaced by worry. She pressed her body against his, and he squeezed the antler until he was sure his palm was nothing but loose ribbons of meat.

Then she reached up, and turned his face to her. She forced him to look her in the eyes, to see what he had done to her, and he felt another wave of guilt rise and fall as he saw the worry. Worry! For him! And she didn’t see the hunger – she had to, though, didn’t she? He was a predator, and she was prey, prey that pressed her forehead to his as if expecting the teeth that wanted her so badly to instead give her another passionate kiss.

Was this what she wanted? No, reason tried to say; no, she had no idea. She didn’t know, she couldn’t know, because if she did, then she wouldn’t be here. She wanted him to talk to her, but there were no words for what he would have to say.

Then there was only one way for her to find out.

Every ounce of his being, every cell in his body, was now inundated with the cinnamon smell, with the memory of her soft skin and firm muscles under his touch. Tender and strong, with very little fat but such a natural delicacy that if he’d been any worse for wear he wouldn’t’ve been able to resist her even then. How much more so now, mostly starved as he was? He remembered the tough red suit she wore under her clothes, under all these layers that made her look like any other hiker.

His eyes were hungry, and terrified. But he leaned his head, and kissed her cheek along the bone. His lips grazed her skin, harmless and delicate as butterfly feet, if damp from the promise that he was giving the teeth behind them with each almost-taste. He stroked them down her face, down to her jaw, knowing she’d misunderstand, that she’d take it, that she’d let him do what he wanted if she thought it was the same as what she wanted. She wouldn’t be able to see the tears as he kissed her to the ear, and took a deep and overeager breath of her scent.

A warning, second to last, because his lips moved again to whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Then in the same movement a big cat would use to break a deer’s neck, he jerked his head to sink his teeth against her shoulder, trusting in her armor to protect her delicate skin and narrow bones from the full force of his attack, keep him from crushing her bones and filling his mouth with her blood and inspiring that horrible song that he had avoided since the first time he and Arlo had fought side by side.

Her suit would protect her. She could protect herself. And that was why he let his monster off the leash.
 

For a moment, there was bliss as he responded to her. It made her heat all the more sunny, all the more like a midsummer day. She Turned her face into his lips, letting them go where they pleased. His movements were gentle, soft, slow. He traced his lips over her jaw, up to her ear, and there he took a deep breath of her. He had done something like that before when they had been intimate. He had taken a deep breath of her, but this one was… different. Before she could process it, however, he whispered to her.

“I’m sorry.”

For a moment, there was bliss. And then the next there was only pain. The shriek that came from her throat was nearly inhuman as Todd crushed her shoulder. Her vision went white as his teeth tore through her skin, as they tore through her muscle, as they tore through her tendons, until they finally met her bones. Then, they crushed those, and she heard the sickening crunch as they fractured, as they broke, as they snapped. The white-hot pain was indescribable. Like a knife slicing through her skin, like a steel pipe breaking her bones, all wrapped up in the tearing of her body from his teeth.

She reached out and grabbed onto his shirt, her arm screaming in a way she had never felt before. It sent shocks of pain through her whole body, wave after wave until she felt like she’d either pass out or throw up, or maybe both. And then it still kept coming. She could feel the spray of blood, and then the thick and fast trails of it seeping down her clothes.

She felt dizzy. She felt sick. She was in so much pain. So much agony. She had never felt anything like this before. Sharp, dull, crush, tear, blood, bones, flesh. The words ran through her mind as she finally gasped in air after she finished screaming. She shook so badly that she was surprised she could keep hold of his shirt as her body jerked.

But she didn’t move.

Sam didn’t move. She grasped onto his shirt and gasped and felt herself sway, but she didn’t move. She didn’t pass out, either, and as sick as she felt, she didn’t throw up. She sat as still as she could, and she took it. She had no idea what was happening. She couldn’t process it. Why was Todd biting her? Was Todd biting her? She turned her head slightly, her body screaming in pain at the motion. His head was down, his mouth wrapped around her shoulder. But why would he do this? Her brain tried to work but kept fizzling out from the pain. Then, it clicked.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He had said that. That he didn’t want to hurt her more. Was this… She knew he was a metahuman. She just didn’t know what kind. But now, she reflected on things. The way he had refused to bite her before when she had begged him to. The noises he had made when she bit him instead. The way he had taken her strength like it was nothing. The strength of his bite, now. The fact he had bit her at all. That he had bit into her like he was starving.

Specially designed to be a cannibal. That wasn’t what she would have guessed he was, but it clicked into place now that she had the puzzle pieces.

Still, she didn’t move. She didn’t push him off, she didn’t try to pull away. A kind of resignation came over her. Her soulmate was a cannibal. A monster for a monster, she thought. That made sense. Her heart broke a little more as she gasped for a second breath. Her hand went to his hair, but she didn’t pull him away. She stroked his hair, comfortingly. Then, in a shaking, pain-filled voice, with tears rolling down her face, she cried, “I’m sorry. I’m s-s-so sorry. Please tell me wh-what I did. Tell me how to hel-help you. Please, Todd.”
​
 
It was too late to stop his jaws from closing when he realized her shoulder was buckling. It was too late to force himself to stop – the movement was almost instant, one second and then it was over. One second and then there was cloth in his mouth, and then blood, and then meat, and then the crunch of bone. And he froze only when the bone buckled, because all the rest processed at that moment, and his eyes went wide. And his horror and his hunger hit each other like locomotives at high speed, and in the resulting explosion, his brain stopped working for a few seconds.

His reason came to before his hunger. WIth a force of will, he pried his teeth free. He forced himself not to take any meat, even as the ache grew to a dull throb, as his mind tried to force him to accept the song of her pulse and his pulse and her blood and his own hunger. In a quietly horrified voice, hoarse with the sudden piercing hunger that came from fresh meat in his mouth, he whispered, “Where’s your suit?”

Where was her heat? Where was her strength? Why was she begging? Why was she stroking his hair and asking what she’d done wrong? Why was she blaming herself, even now, even now when her mind should realize she was prey, that he was predator? Why offer comfort to the monster that had just decided to turn you from a person into food?

Why had he done that?

Suit or no suit? That – that wasn’t the right way to do this. Why the hell had it even crossed his mind? Had that been him, or just the hunger? Just the part that now screamed do it again, she’s going to let you, take her whole and entire and revel as she screams. The part of him that was a monster.

God. Arlo was right. He was just that monster. As he wrestled with his predator, he realized that – that he should have let Arlo kill him. Arlo had been right. He never would’ve met Sam, never would have hurt her, if he’d just surrendered to the crushing blows. Arlo was right. He didn’t deserve to live. Of course she wouldn’t accept that, not if he said it, not if instead of running or hurting him she offered him comfort, even through the obvious pain.

He pulled his head back, tears cutting lines through the blood that spattered across his face. He stared at the wound, the wound that promised to cure his hunger for a little while, to fill him a warmth she couldn’t give him alive. And then he looked at her face, her humanity, her agony, her misery. She couldn’t help but blame herself. She was going to blame herself for this, too. He had to let her.

With the strength that came from the promise of a finished hunt, Todd reached up and shoved Sam off, pushed her back and away from him. It was the last time he’d have to hurt her, but he had to, because he couldn’t drag her down with him. He stood, stiff and shaking, but the hunger in his eyes was slowly replaced with something softer. A resignation just as animal, but soaked in very human tears. His smile might not be visible in the dark under the thick layer of crimson.

“Forgive me, someday. Okay, Freckles?”

He dropped the piece of antler. It was soaked in red. So was his mouth, full of her blood. So was her shoulder, ruined by his teeth. He took a step back, away from her, still tight and shaking. And then he leaned back over the cliff edge, and let himself fall.

In Arlo’s absence, terminal velocity should be enough to stop him from hurting her again.
 

Her suit? He thought she’d be wearing her suit. God, he thought she’d be protected, didn’t he? He hadn’t meant to hurt her, not like this. Still, he didn’t tell her what she’d done wrong. Still, he didn’t say how to fix this. How to fix them. She was shaking and dizzy and so weak, and it was all she could think about. How to fix them. Her shoulder mattered so much less than that, than having him back. But then it happened.

It all happened so quickly, and she was in so much pain, that by the time she realized he had shoved her away, he was standing on the edge of the cliff. She had barely processed his words when he dropped backward. There was a second of complete quiet as he disappeared over the edge. Then she screamed.

She pushed herself up, her arm giving out, halfway through, but she still managed to get to her feet. The pain was so intense, so strong, that her vision went white again. It blinded her for precious seconds. She got herself moving and she threw herself off the cliff after him.

She wasn’t thinking. She couldn’t think as she fell. Her arm was screaming, and for a moment she was sure she had blacked out, because the ground was much closer than it should have been. She directed her heat, propelling her forward. She was almost to him.

There was a soft look on his face, his eyes shut. A strange sort of calm given he had thrown himself off a cliff. She reached him, and she pushed a little harder, bringing herself just past him. She wrapped her good arm around him and swung herself under him.

“Don’t struggle! Please! We’ll both die!”

And then she directed as much heat, as fast as possible, straight down beneath them. She had seen how close the ground was. This wouldn’t stop them, not from this height. But it would slow them, just enough for her to take the brunt of the fall and not die.

God, this was going to hurt.

The second it took to reach the ground felt like forever as she wrapped her arm tight around him, as she curled her shoulders in, and moved her injured arm to cover his face. Then, they hit.

She heard a loud pop, and she knew immediately she had just broken her spine in three separate places, or at the very least fractured it. They bounced once, just a bit, and then slammed into the ground again. She managed to keep her arms around him, to protect him, but the moment they stopped moving, her arms fell away. She panted in air, her entire body screaming at her. Her eyes fell shut, and tears spilled from them.

She cried softly, reaching back up for him with her good arm. The bleeding on the wound in her shoulder was already closing, already knitting itself back together from the outside in. Her spine cracked painfully as it pulled back into place. A sharp gasp left her, and she grabbed onto his shirt.

“Why did you do that? Why did you do that? Am I so terrible you’d rather die? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It was the only reason she could really think of that would explain everything. The bite, the suicide attempt, it was all her fault. He was what he was, and she couldn’t blame him for that. It was in his nature. So that meant she had to have done something wrong to trigger it. Her mere presence was enough to make him throw himself off a cliff. Clearly, this was because she was so unlovable that even her soulmate couldn’t want her.

Had he found out what kind of monster she was? Had he realized what she had done before him, the same day she had met him? Was it obvious in the bruises that had decorated her body alongside the scars when he had undressed her? Or maybe she was just so terrifying, that he could recognize her for being a monster without knowing?

Had that bite been to protect himself?

Oh god. That bite must have been to protect himself. Her head lulled to the side, tears falling faster. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’m sorry, Todd. Please don’t leave me.”

The words had a new connotation now. Please don’t kill yourself. Please don’t abandon me. Please don’t make me follow you.​
 
When Todd Fowler, formerly Nick Hart, was fifteen years old, his foster sister Elizabeth had thrown herself off a bridge. He’d followed her out to the isolated spot, and he’d had no choice but to watch. And he’d always wondered what drove her to do that. Weren’t they friends? Didn’t she care about him?

Now, as he fell much farther than bridge-to-pavement, he remembered what she said, the things she’d talked about. About being a burden. About how alone she felt. About her parents, and seeing them again someday. Her parents had both died in a car accident, forced off the edge of a bridge.

Now, as it was his turn to fall, Todd felt a calm spread from his center, reducing his heartbeat, forcing the hunt to go quiet. He felt only the pull of gravity, and how difficult it became to breathe. He closed his eyes to the distance. He didn’t want to know when it would come. One thousand feet could pass in a few seconds, or half a minute. And for once, for the first time in years, he wasn’t afraid.

He’d made his decision. There was nothing he could do now. He wouldn’t even feel the ground when he hit it. Really, it was a better death than he deserved, after everything. But it was what he could get. And it was what would save her. If one life could be protected from his teeth, then his death was worth it. No more people needed to be hurt.

He wouldn’t see Arlo where he was going, or his mother. He hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed. Sam was the only one who would miss him, and she’d move past him. She loved him, who couldn’t love back. This was the closest he could come.

He could hear her scream over the wind. God, she sounded heartbroken. She sounded the way he’d felt before he went down to Liz’s body, before a body was all that was left of one of his only friends at that house. He blamed his decision after Liz for what happened just now. This was his fault, even back then. Now Sam was going to have to be alone as he’d felt.

But she’d recover. He had.

Except suddenly her voice was in his ears, and her body was pulling itself around him, and not even the wind as they fell could stop him from being flood with the scent of despair and blood and cinnamon. His body suddenly froze, shocked, as his peaceful last moments exploded into furious reality.

Just before the fall stopped with a sickening series of crunches, and her body collapsed underneath his. Sacrificed to save him. She’d sacrificed herself to save him.

He didn’t deserve to be saved. And she saved him anyway. He was a monster, and she was a hero. She saved him even knowing what he was, because she was – she was good. Really good. Not even Arlo’s justified anger had been so purely good. That was all he could think, before he remembered his weight was still on her, and he rolled off to his feet. His eyes finally opened to see her, to see what he’d done to her. God, he’d done this. This was his fault.

And she was helpless. Completely and totally helpless, and still she blamed herself. He had no idea how she could do that after what he’d done to her, but the guilt flooded the space that had been peaceful a moment ago. Guilt, in competition with the predator. The predator who knew which bones were broken, could be kept broken long enough to have her. To have her still warm and still bleeding for as long as he desired.

He stood up, and stepped back, away, slowly. He ground his teeth. Even with her heat, his body was shaking. Tears cut down his own cheeks from the effort. He wanted to say something, he wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell her the truth, that he couldn’t love, that he could only take and take and take until there wasn’t anything left of her to give. But if he opened his mouth, she’d only get teeth.

As the hunger clawed its way up his body, as he backed away from her broken body that the tattered remains of his humanity wanted to reach down and comfort, he knew there was only one way he wasn’t going to finish the job gravity started. Gravity, and his teeth.

He acted against his screaming instincts, and ran.

He ran as fast as his legs would take him, his backpack forgotten, flat across the canyon floor, through scrub and brush and across trails. For once, a rare occurrence, animals scampered out of his way. And he braced, tightened his will against the scream he knew would follow, the same scream that had followed him off a cliff.

But he was a predator. By design, he would be faster than her. Fast enough to reach the lot with his Malibu, if he could remember the direction. Fast enough to take it and leave, leave to go as far from here and from her as he could before the hunger made it impossible for him to drive farther. He would have to stop before then – stop at one of the clear, flooded streams and wash the taste of her blood out of his mouth, and strip away the layers that were already growing stiff. The cold inside him was infinitely worse than the cold outside. Fast enough to outrun the sounds he expected to follow him, before regret or starvation made him turn back and let her catch him.

She wasn’t a predator. She’d tire of the chase, eventually. He could run until then. However long it took.
 

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t answer her, and instead, he ran. She gasped in air and tried to push herself up. She got halfway, leaning on her side, before he disappeared through the trees and brush. Her spine cracked back into place near her tailbone, and the legs she didn’t know were numb came screaming back to life. She used her good arm to push herself up from the ground.

“Wait, please! Todd! Todd!!”

She screamed his name and started running. But before she could make it more than a few feet, Her shoulder spiked in pain again as one of the fractures cracked from the stress. White light filled her eyes and she went down, cracking her head audibly on the ground.

When Sam woke back up, the sun was rising in the sky. She started to push herself up to sit, only to find that her shoulder had yet to really heal, and her head pounded like a drum. That made sense. Her body had expended what little energy she had on resetting her spine last night. Last night. A shiver of horror ran through her body. She got up and started to run. She made it into the clearing that she had been chasing Todd to. He was nowhere to be seen, and as she looked around the ground, she could see the signs of his quick retreat from the previous night.

No. No, not again. She started breathing heavily, wrapping her arms around herself. She dropped down to her knees, barely registering her collapse. She sat there, wide-eyed, clothes torn and bloody, her shoulder throbbing, for what felt like forever. Her heartbeat was wild and erratic as she tried to fight the panic attack that threatened to overtake her.

He left her again. He was so scared of her that he had crushed her shoulder. She couldn’t even think of what she had done. What could she have done that was so bad that it would make him that scared of her? Or… was this really about him being afraid to hurt her? Like he had done last night? She slowed her breathing as she tried to consider this. Every bit of her heart was screaming that she was inadequate, that she wasn’t good enough to be his soulmate, but her mind was starting to find rational thought again for the first time in three months.

It made sense that he was actually running to protect her. It made sense now. God and this, this entire thing was just going to reinforce how delicate she was to him. She had let herself become weak in her frenzied and furious search for him. She had let herself become soft and damageable. She reached a hand up and touched her shoulder. It shot veins of pain through her body and she winced. It was still broken, still torn. The skin had simply scabbed over the bite mark to keep her from bleeding.

He would never trust himself ever again, especially not with her. But did that mean he did know what they were? He had lied when he had said they hadn’t meant anything. He had lied when he had said they weren’t meant to be. Lying implied that you believed, on some level, the opposite of what you were saying. Rationally, this meant he not only knew they were soulmates, but he was only running because of his fear of hurting her.

She pushed herself to her feet. She started back the way they had been. She summoned as much heat as she could manage and jumped. She had just enough energy left to propel herself to the top of Observation Point again. She knelt at the edge for a few minutes, trying to stave off how dizzy she was. Then her eyes found it– an antler, coated in blood. Blood that had dried already. Sam picked it up and looked at it with soft eyes. He had been holding this before he had thrown himself off the cliff. The blood was his blood, not hers, from how tightly he had been holding it.

She stood on shaky legs and she made her way to the tree where his backpack hung. It was big, and heavy, but she took a quick peak through it. It was remarkably complete, with the exception of rations and, strangely, toilet paper. Sitting on the very top was a camera. The word “canon” was written across the top, and then on one corner it read “EoS Rebel T7”. She looked at it blankly for a moment and then cursed under her breath. She took the camera out, strung it around her neck, and zipped the backpack back up. The camera was less likely to be damaged this way.

She picked the backpack up and strapped it on. Antler in one hand, she began to make her way back down the path. He might be scared of hurting her, but she wasn’t. This had been a fluke. She had let herself grow too weak. But Sam was strong. Her body was built to last, to heal, to get back up no matter what. Even now, she was slowly repairing.

She needed food. She was going to have to start eating like she was supposed to again if she wanted to build herself back up. She needed to build herself back up. She had to heal, to be strong again. Knowing she was strong and knowing that even if he hurt her, she’d be able to bounce back from it was going to be important. Last night had been a fluke.

She just had to show him that.​
 
Todd found fullness in Moab, three hours from Zion National Park, three days after he killed Samantha Walsh.

He had killed her. He hadn’t meant to. He should be the one dead. No part of him would have survived hitting the ground. He didn’t even know how she’d survived, however briefly. He did know that if he’d offered her any help, if he’d stepped toward her and not away, he would have killed her with his own two hands. Her death would have been slow and agonizing. Now he knew it was just slow.

The rangers would find his backpack at the top of Observation Point and find his footprints at the bottom, running from the body. Or maybe not – the area was heavily populated with scavengers, from ringtails to coyotes to foxes. Maybe there’d be too much of a tangle of activity around her, from carnivores much less picky than himself or the mountain lion he was sure would be blamed for her crushed shoulder. The lions hardly deserved that, especially since they had a clean record at Zion. But they weren’t going to blame the exhausted, bone-thin hiker they’d been worried would die on the trail for that. The lions would survive.

Just as he was surviving. Surviving because she had saved his life. Surviving because while his monster wanted to consider her death a waste of meat, it wasn’t a waste at all. He wouldn’t let it be a waste.

He lay on the floor of an otherwise empty warehouse, listening to blood drip down the drain nearby. He’d taken everything – no scraps, not even viscera left. The starvation had been too great for anything else. The kill had been clean, simple. A slit throat was where most of the blood had come from. His butcher knife lay on the ground nearby, soaked, but it had seen its use, and was forgotten in the ocean of calm he now let carry him. For the first time in months, he was too full and too tired to feel guilty. Fullness like this used to be the second best experience in his existence. Now it was the third, although the first was something he’d never experience again.

His only wish was that he could’ve explained to her, could’ve apologized. Could she have understood? Maybe. Not in her condition at the time. Not in his condition at the time. In his condition, there wouldn’t have been any words at all. He still knew that. Proximity would have killed her much more horribly than the elements, than succumbing to her injuries. He’d let himself slip too far in his guilt and grief. He couldn’t let himself do that, couldn’t get that hungry again. Survival was key, survival without overindulgence in either hunting or self-loathing. He needed to find the balance between the two if he meant to keep going.

And he did mean to keep going. He couldn’t lie here forever. He needed to leave, find a place to rest. With that thought in mind, he pushed himself to his feet, walked to the corner, and dragged his coat back on. He pulled the mask over his bloodstained face. He’d need to find a place to wash off. Then it was to bed, to sleep for a day, to let the energy fill him. And then out of Utah, as fast and far in whatever direction his gut said was the right one.

As he slid the warehouse door shut behind him, he missed the glint of light against the butcher knife, still forgotten in the drying pool of blood.
 
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