Skyrim: The story of a Nightingale

So, I was lucky enough to be adopted by Rasha's family. And then... happiness and joy; sunny days and a lot of running with my brothers and sisters; quite strange food in the beginning, followed by a lot of delicacies...

I slept and played with my brothers and sisters. Sometimes, I even fought with them. My dear mother Shaira used to punish us all after such incidents! On many quiet and lovely evenings, I listened to my father Ra'ha's wonderful stories and funny jokes... Often, he would spend the whole evening caressing and kissing us all! I remember my mother Shaira sitting in a dark corner of the room, smiling and watching over us with care and love. She adored her husband and family, including me, although she ruled us all harshly! Shaira reigned over everyone in her family except Rasha, her most beloved son; he could get anything he wanted from her at any time...

These are some of my memories from the time I lived with the cat people, in the happiest family I ever meet in my life! Now, with all of them so far away, I remember them with melancholy and even a smile... At first, I was scared then fascinated by them all. Just try to imagine a little girl, and a shy one at that, in the middle of a large Khajiit family! But now, they are all gone, as if they had never existed! Still, as long as I live and breathe, I am firmly convinced that a small part of all of them will continue to live and breathe... Inside me!

In the beginning, I was very intimidated by the nearly constant presence of that strange being, as I thought of her back then—my dear mother, Shaira. On top of that, some of the many children of the family that had adopted me with rare gentleness and goodwill often entered the room where I lay. Mother Shaira did not allow anyone to come into my room, but you know, it's very hard to stop a Khajiit from entering any place they wish to go! They were all very kind and friendly, but I was utterly wild from the life I had led over the past year... And they were so different from me!

Fortunately, I couldn't react as my instincts urged me to; I was badly injured and almost crushed by the brutal beating I had endured. So, I surrendered myself to them, and they surrounded me with love and care. Our father, Ra'ha, brought a young doctor, a Khajiit, to tend to me, and I now smile at the memory of the piercing look our mother Shaira gave him when they entered the room where she was caring for my broken body. Ra'ha immediately understood the meaning of Shaira's gaze, and the two of them left the room almost as soon as they entered. He returned later with another doctor—this time a human, an Imperial citizen.

I was exceptionally well cared for and nourished throughout the time I was helpless, tormented by the excruciating pain that wracked my body and soul. I often woke up in the dead of night, crying in agony, and Shaira would always come to soothe my pain with potions the doctor had brought. As I began to recover, I started to observe closely those who often came into my room. First of all, my mother Shaira. She was a middle-aged Khajiit, rather slender than stout, and quite tall for her kind. Our mom had very skilled, comforting hands and stern, commanding eyes; but there was no malice in her gaze—only authority and the habit of commanding, of arranging the lives of those around her as she thought best. Then there was Rasha... Rasha often visited me in the room where I lay; he wouldn't speak to me but would simply sit and watch me for a long time. Sometimes, when Shaira wasn't watching, he would gently stroke my hair and play with it. I was never afraid of Rasha—not even in the early days when I was utterly terrified by the crowd of beings swarming around me. That says a lot, for Rasha was very tall for a Khajiit and seemed sculpted from stone—muscular and tall, with eyes of a hardness I had never encountered before. Eyes like his, I would only see again many years later, far from this place, somewhere north of the Jerall Mountains... Our father Ra'ha rarely visited me while I was ill, but whenever he entered my room, I could always recognize him by his light, stealthy steps and the warm gaze he cast over me. As for my numerous brothers and sisters, I wasn't able to tell them apart at that time. Some of them, however, brought me sweets and left them on the bedside table, while others simply watched me with interest and curiosity.

I managed to get out of bed and take a few hesitant steps on a day when a terrible blizzard was howling outside, the wind rattling the window of my room. I could hear noises coming from the house: laughter, shouts, and exclamations of joy. For me, however, any unfamiliar sound was a threat. Despite the dizziness clouding my thoughts, I slipped out of the room, closing the door gently, without a sound.

The noises seemed to come from a lower floor, so I began to descend the wooden staircase. The steps were steep and narrow, and each movement was a struggle, but I couldn't stop. I had to find out what was happening—who was making those sounds and why. The noises grew clearer with every step, layering themselves over the relentless howl of the blizzard outside. Together, they formed an unsettling concert, something that set my nerves on edge, sharpening my instincts.

I continued forward, filled with fear, and suddenly found myself in the midst of one of the most exuberant family gatherings imaginable. As I would later learn, that day marked a major religious celebration for the cat people: the Day of the Cat Mother, as they call Nocturnal, at least here in Cyrodiil. Coincidentally, it was also the birthday of their father, Ra'ha. I had hoped to remain unnoticed, but that was impossible; a human, no matter how skilled or gifted, cannot sneak unnoticed in the presence of a Khajiit—much less an entire gathering of cat people, even when they're deeply engrossed in one of their favorite pastimes.

In truth, they had all been aware of my presence the moment I left my room. They didn't react in any special way because they already considered me a part of their family and the doctor had informed them that I would soon be able to move around and take a few steps. As my dear mother Shaira later explained, they saw my recovery manifesting on such an auspicious day as an extraordinarily good omen, but nothing more.

For me, however, it was an utterly shocking experience. In the middle of their joyous celebration of Ra'ha, one of the smaller kittens turned bright, gleaming eyes toward me and shouted, "Look! The human cub is awake!"; then he ran toward me with open arms.

Everyone turned suddenly to face me, and under the avalanche of their curious stares, I felt exposed and defenseless. Panic surged within me; I was terrified. My instinct was to run, to hide in some dark corner until the danger passed... I turned sharply and tried to flee, but my legs gave way and I collapsed onto the thickly carpeted floor. My head spun, pain coursed through me, and my vision blurred. Barely conscious, I dimly recognized Rasha lifting me in his strong arms and I heard the angry voice of our mother, Shaira, but couldn't understand a word she said... Then Rasha carried me gently back to my bed, laying me down with care. Moments later, Shaira entered the room and tended to one of my wounds, which had reopened and a little while after that, Ra'ha came in, softly stroking my hair as he looked at me with his warm, kind eyes.

Shaira then asked both Ra'ha and Rasha to leave the room. She spoke to me in a calm yet firm voice, saying many things... However, in my fear-riddled mind, I retained only one message: I should not be afraid, that no one—absolutely no one—in that house wished me harm, and that under no circumstances should I get out of bed until the doctor saw me again. She then brought me two large mugs of milk sweetened with honey. The second mug had a dash of a sleeping powder mixed in, and soon after, I fell into a deep sleep.

After that, many days passed before I regained my strength, before my body—and more importantly, my soul—began to heal. My mother, Shaira, cared for me with devotion and determination; my father, Ra'ha, would visit occasionally, telling me jokes or short stories and smiling at me with kindness. My brother, Rasha, visited me quite often, but, as usual, he didn't say a word. He would just sit and watch me, his intense gaze fixed on me. Somehow, his silent presence helped me more than Shaira's wise words or Ra'ha's gentle stories and warm looks; I felt as if I were drawing strength from Rasha's cold eyes. During all those days when everyone was doing their best to be kind to me, he never once smiled. Yet he was the only one I wasn't afraid of...

I vividly recall a bright winter morning when my body was nearly healed. It was Rasha's birthday, and the entire family was joyously celebrating the occasion. I was still not allowed to leave my bed, so Shaira and Rasha came to sit with me for a while, letting me share in the happiness of the day.

My mother brought a tray laden with treats, and under the golden rays of the morning sun, my room filled with the fine aroma of spices. The warmth of the sunlight filtering through the window, combined with the presence of the two of them, stirred me gently awake but not fully. I dozed with heavy eyes, the touch of the sun's rays almost as tender as Shaira's hands, which had so carefully tended to my wounds. That morning, however, the usual stillness of my room was interrupted by a strange sound: the soft pitter-patter of small feet running across the floor. I turned slowly, just in time to see a very young Khajiit struggling to place a small, clumsily wrapped package on my nightstand. She gave me an awkward smile, and I reached out toward her; but before I could say anything, she vanished out the door like a shadow.

Shaira and Rasha both watched me then—she with visible concern, he as cold as ever. When they saw me smile, they both burst into laughter.

-You should scold Elira, Mother! Rasha said still laughing. Oh, I've so rarely seen him laugh...

-Her name is Elira? Could I play with Elira a little? Or at least talk to her? I asked, my voice trembling.

They both sighed in relief. Then Shaira gently stroked my hair and told me that very soon, I would be able to talk and play with all the children in the house.

-Even the father might be willing to play with you, she added with a smile.

And she wasn't exaggerating in the slightest! Our father, Ra'ha, was perhaps the most playful and jovial member of the entire family. He, along with the little cubs, played a tremendous role in healing my soul. It wasn't easy at all; the year I had spent alone in the depths of the Imperial City and the habits I had developed during my time as a small predator struggling to survive in a jungle filled with all kinds of voracious hunters had left me cautious and distrustful. On top of that, I had a tendency to steal anything I liked. Once I was able to move a bit more freely, I often snuck into the kitchen to steal sweets... But as I've already told you, dear friends, it is impossible for a human to sneak unnoticed in a Khajiit household! Everyone was fully aware of my nightly raids into the pantry filled with goodies, yet no one in the family ever said a word. No one ever reproached me for my nocturnal expeditions into the kitchen... It makes me laugh now to think that back then, I believed nighttime was the perfect moment to evade the attention of a Khajiit!

One day, our mother Shaira gently pulled me aside and explained me many things that I had been entirely unaware of. She told me a lot about the Khajiit people, describing in detail and with examples their ability to slip unnoticed through the busiest city streets, their unparalleled acrobatic skills, and especially their capacity to see better at night than even during the day. Full of pride, I shared my own skills in all these areas with my mother; Shaira smiled and stroked my hair, then seriously advised me never to challenge or compete with a Khajiit in any of their unique talents.

However, I was so used to simply taking whatever caught my eye or pleased me that I paid little attention to Shaira's wise words. Often, I would steal toys from my brothers or sisters—not because I lacked toys of my own or because they wouldn't share theirs with me, but because my innate nature as a Nightingale and the life I had led over the past year had etched deeply into my soul the desire, the need, to steal. Nocturnal, when She is upset with me, calls me a sick woman in this regard... I smile when I think about this, for my mistress is far sicker in this respect than I could ever be!

In any case, with rare exceptions, my brothers and sisters—may Nocturnal forever bless their warm and kind souls—never reacted to these undignified acts of mine. Partly, this was because Shaira had strictly forbidden them from harming me, but mainly it was due to the fear they felt toward their brother, Rasha. He went so far as to proclaim one day, after finding me beaten by a sister whose ring I had stolen, that he would kill anyone who touched me again! Strangely, instead of feeling protected in that moment, all I felt was shame... And I tried my hardest not to take things anymore, to be content with what my dear parents gave me.

Anyway, this problem gradually lessened over time because I didn't have the habit of hiding or keeping the things I stole from my siblings for long. It was enough for me to enjoy the item for a few days, after which they could take it back without the slightest protest from me. They grew accustomed to this oddity of mine and, with the typical tolerance of the felines toward less intelligent species, they allowed me to satisfy my instincts without further comment.

As for my pantry raids, my mother Shaira warned me that eating too many sweets at once would make me ill. But, as usual, I didn't listen—and indeed, one morning, I woke up so sick and with such terrible stomach pains that I avoided sweets for a long time afterward!

Thus, in the end, and despite quite a few difficulties caused by my temperament and habits, I fully integrated into the wonderful family that Nocturnal herself had gifted to me. Physically, I made a complete recovery near the end of the winter and I was fortunate enough to be able to play with my brothers and sisters in the fresh snow that blanketed the Imperial City in its shimmering, cool mantle. It is truly delightful for a human to play with the cubs of the cat folk; they are so playful and adorable, endlessly energetic in their constant desire for movement, and extraordinarily graceful! Their reaction to snow, however, is utterly amusing; while they adore the snow as carefree and well-fed children would, they also have a slight fear of it. Much like their feline nature, they are almost always wary of anything cold and wet!

Thus, our frolics in the wintery, festive landscape, bathed in the sunlight of late winter, often ended in mock battles. These playful skirmishes did nothing but rebuild and strengthen my muscles, which had been weakened during my prolonged illness. In this enjoyable way, spring arrived, spreading its fragrant blossoms across the capital, and found me in excellent condition. I was once again ready to face the streets of the metropolis! And I was incredibly eager to do so; thoughts of vengeance began to take shape in my mind, and at the same time, I yearned for my nocturnal escapades in search of prey...

To be fair, I no longer had any need to scrape by for survival. The family that had adopted me was well-off, and I could request anything I desired from my parents—within reason, of course. Yet I remained loyal to the habits I had formed and continued to roam the streets of the capital at night, returning home at dawn and going to bed just before the household began their daily routines. My brothers and sisters were utterly baffled by my behavior, while our mother, Shaira, began to closely observe my movements. I have no doubt that, on occasion, she followed me like a shadow, from a distance, through the night-shrouded streets of the Imperial City.

My mom was likely quite intrigued and somewhat amused by what she witnessed because, one beautiful evening near the end of spring, she took me aside for a long conversation. Among other things, she told me that, based on my behavior, I was old enough to begin learning things that would be greatly useful to me in life. She also pointed out, in a very serious manner, that I needed to change my way of living—at least for a while. It was very difficult to resist Shaira's wishes; my beloved mother was accustomed to command and always achieved what she set out to do. So, despite my laziness and rebelliousness, I adopted the schedule she imposed on me starting the very next day.

And my first lessons came directly from Shaira herself; my dear cat mother taught me how to sneak around. Ah, that was a little rough for me because she used to treat me just like her kittens. She would scratch and bite me every time I was distracted or not diligent enough... Shaira also trained me in hand-to-hand combat, especially using the claws. But here, she was very gentle with me, always wearing some soft gloves; when she thought I was good enough, she gifted me a wonderful pair of steel claws, and after slapping me a little, she told me not to wear them when playing with my little brothers and sisters.

My beloved brother, Rasha, trained me in knife combat. He explained that the knife is a very dangerous weapon in skilled hands when dealing with the usual street thugs. Anyway, most of the humans and elves fear the knife; many of them will run only if you show it to them, he said. But try not to use it with the cat people; they are much quicker than you, and it is not useful at all against armored foes, he added. Then, he taught me how to fight with a dagger. In the end, he took me to an archery range and paid for many crossbow lessons for me. Ah, the crossbow was so heavy for my thin arms!

My father, Ra'ha, taught me some things about breaking locks and gave me interesting hints about stealing people purses. But while my mother's and brother's skills reached perfection, our dear father was rather clumsy in the areas he attempted to teach me. In fact, he was more than once astonished by my remarkable abilities in picking locks of simpler construction. Thus, it was decided that I would improve in these arts on my own—a prospect I didn't mind at all; and in no time, the small pocket on the front of the apron I wore began jingling with the first copper coins I had earned through my own skills. I was so proud that I rushed into the sweet shop at the corner of our street and bought an enormous assortment of candies of every kind, treating all my brothers and sisters!

I was now able to wander agilely and fearlessly through the streets of the capital, even in broad daylight. From those days onward, I developed the habit of always carrying a knife hidden in a sheath strapped to my left leg; ah, I think I forgot to mention, dear friends, that my most skillful hand is my left; later, however, in other places, under the blazing sun of a tropical land, I learned to fight with equal dexterity using both hands... I searched tirelessly for those who had wronged me, but by then, I was already known within the underworld of the capital, making me easy to avoid. Every single criminal in the great city knew I was under Rasha's protection, and he was truly respected and feared by all who lived beyond the boundaries of the law. The laws themselves had softened considerably; the relentless monk patrols had been replaced by soldiers from an auxiliary cohort, and they were far more interested in the free beer and sausages they received from innkeepers than in the various petty crimes that had begun to proliferate on the streets of the Imperial City.

Ah, the metropolis truly thrived during those times, and everyone seemed happy. Though the poor became poorer and the rich richer, in the end, everyone had their daily piece of bread assured. And their mugs of beer were always filled with this drink that was both refreshing and nourishing!

Thus, I could not carry out my plans for revenge, and perhaps it was for the best. The truth is, deep in my heart, I didn't truly desire it. It was more of a childish ambition, and the words of the venerable priest of Mara often echoed in my mind. And it is especially easy, particularly for someone like me, to forgive in peaceful and prosperous times... Forgiveness and mercy often bring far greater satisfaction than the dark and bloody revenge!

And I benefited greatly from abandoning my vengeful thoughts. I was so enveloped in the love and understanding of my new family that my soul was completely at peace. Ah, my brothers and sisters, my dear mother Shaira, and my beloved father Ra'ha understood me in every way! Where any other family would have struggled greatly to tolerate many of my habits and joys—which, to be honest, were quite strange—among these cat folk, I found nothing but understanding and acceptance.

It wasn't surprising, though; apart from their feline nature, the whole family, except for the very small ones, me and Rasha, was somehow involved in the business of the Thieves' Guild. And my mother was a really important person in the Guild with some good connections in the city administration also.

The Thieves' Guild in the Imperial City during those years... I cannot say much about this organization, which also vanished, consumed by the flames of the Great War; not more than what I could glean from a few dusty chronicles or old, mold-eaten letters. However, from the long columns of numbers and numerous commercial ledgers, from securities and mortgage documents found in the incomplete archive I discovered in Riften, it is quite clear that, at that time, it operated more as a financial institution and had lost much of its original nature and essence. In any case, my mother Shaira never introduced me to this world, and it is likely that Nocturnal's hand was at play here, as it was throughout much of my earlier life.

As I've already mentioned—and I feel like I can never tire of emphasizing this—my father, Ra'ha, was an exceptionally kind person, and all the kittens adored him, while they generally feared their mother, Shaira. In his youth, he had been a thief, though not a very skilled one, truth be told. However, it was through this path that he met Shaira, and together they built a beautiful and happy family, where the father's kindness blended so wonderfully and harmoniously with the mother's determination and cleverness. By the time I lived with them, Ra'ha had given up thievery entirely and had become something of a comedian; he worked as an actor at the largest theater in the Imperial City.

My father was incredibly skilled in the art of improvising charming stories and delightful jokes. He was perfectly fluent in both languages: the common tongue, widely spoken on the streets of the capital and across the Empire, and Ta'agra, the melodious and rich language of the cat-folk. This language is a true cultural treasure—subtle and extraordinarily difficult for anyone who isn't a Khajiit to learn! Yet, under Ra'ha's guidance, I managed to learn it surprisingly quickly, despite my struggles with foreign languages. It's true that the entire family I lived happily among made great efforts to help me, but my father's brilliance as a teacher contributed enormously to the complete success of my endeavor. Ra'ha was kind and cheerful, and no matter how distracted I might have been, he always knew how to capture my attention and sustain my interest in this challenging task. I cannot help but compare his teaching methods to those of Shaira or Rasha... As I've mentioned before, I loved all three of them deeply; yet, while Ra'ha would smile and joke whenever I slacked off, Shaira would scratch and bite me and Rasha would throw me a merciless glare and mutter through gritted teeth, "You're so stupid!"

Regardless of their individual styles, I absorbed precious knowledge from all three of them. They were persistent and generous in their efforts to teach me, never giving up until they had passed on their full range of skills. And so, I quickly transformed from a wild, ignorant, and dirty creature into a charming teenager who was cheeky and spirited. My brother Rasha played an extraordinary role in this metamorphosis. He was the leader of a gang of ruffians who provided "protection" to the merchants and craftsmen in our district. In this capacity, he spent most of his time roaming the streets of the Merchant District in the company of his comrades. And since Rasha was like a god to me, I couldn't help but follow him constantly—just like an eager puppy trailing its master.

At first, I kept a considerable distance, too scared of the loud voices and fierce appearances of his companions. But as time passed, I got closer and closer until I eventually found myself walking among them on the old streets of our neighborhood. None of them mocked me; on the contrary, before long, they all seemed relieved whenever I showed up. One of Rasha's trusted men, Rolf, told me one warm summer afternoon, as we were sipping cold lemonade on a terrace, that their leader was much more lenient with them when I was around. And he wasn't lying—I could see it for myself; Rasha's behavior almost always changed when I was around. He cared deeply for me and, sometimes during their street battles, I would catch my brother anxiously searching for me with his eyes...

I, however, saw all their skirmishes with the rival gangs as nothing more than a game. I would laugh and dance in the middle of these fierce men as they cursed and fought with fury! I was so agile and quick that I could easily weave between them, avoiding any accidental or intentional blows. And at the end of the fight, Rasha would always scoop me up in his arms and carry me home to our parents. It felt so wonderful in his arms; I felt protected and powerful, and his cold, ruthless eyes were like fountains of energy for me! We were truly very happy together, and though Rasha tried hard to maintain his aloof and tough demeanor, he even began to behave a little more kindly toward the rest of the family.

Shaira was particularly grateful to me for this. Though she disapproved of her eldest son's activities, she became much calmer and more relaxed knowing we were together on the restless streets of the capital. My mother even began to genuinely love me, and we would often spend quiet hours talking about our favorite subject: Rasha.

As for my other brothers and sisters, I could write an entire novel about them alone! But I'm sure even my most devoted reader would tire of such a digression, so I will only briefly mention a few highlights. There were the incredible acrobatic talents of my sister Nahshi, who trained with the members of the Imperial Circus in the metropolis; the unparalleled charm and grace of my sister Elira; and the extraordinary skill of my brother Ra'irr, who could speak without even opening his mouth... Ah, they were all so talented and intelligent, and I feel like I'm doing them a grave injustice by mentioning only a few of them! So, I shall let them all rest in peace, and I hope that Nocturnal keeps their souls in her care forever.

I've lived very happily in their family for four years, and I deeply loved them all; in return, they responded with great affection. That big family was a true haven for me—a haven and a school where I learned many useful things. Above all, they taught me how to live among people. I was very lucky that they were so similar to me; despite their entirely different nature, spiritually, we were the same. And our Goddess smiled down upon us with love and care.

Unfortunately, though, she is a deceitful and demanding entity. Nocturnal tends to get bored very quickly, and on top of that, the other one—the Spider—was also watching me. Her gaze and whispers seemed to cast a dark spell over the happy family... Toward the end of my time with them, I was constantly aware that something bad was bound to happen. All seemed the same as before, but Rasha became unusually relentless and violent, more so than ever. And everything around me seemed to subtly change, and I, too, felt restless. I imagined I was simply worried about Rasha, who often argued with the members of our family, especially with our mother, Shaira. But it was more than that; now I know that I felt a painful separation looming, one that would shatter the peace I had found here, in the midst of this welcoming family that now regarded me as a daughter or sister.

I gave Rasha the amulet I had worn uninterrupted for several years. I wasn't sure why I did it, but looking back on the events that followed, I am certain the Goddess wanted to accompany my brother on the first steps of the path destined for both of us. Of course, Rasha initially refused to accept what seemed to him like a cheap trinket and a symbol of a cult he neither understood nor wanted to. However, his attitude abruptly changed when I pressed the amulet into his hand. As always in moments like this, the amulet seemed to come alive; it was warm and appeared to vibrate slightly, and Mara... well, Mara smiled unsettlingly at both of us! Our mother, Shaira, reacted cheerfully to our little scene and uttered the first prophetic words of many she would speak in the future:

-Now I feel completely at peace, Rasha! I am certain now that Elsie's spirit will watch over you, even in the darkest and most perilous places you may tread!

I smiled timidly, and Rasha laughed heartily. When Shaira told us that, far beyond the Jerall Mountains, existed a fascinating tradition regarding amulets like this one, we were both surprised... I, a bit embarrassed but suddenly thrilled by the idea, and Rasha, skeptical but visibly intrigued! Then, Shaira embraced us both and looked at us with love.

In the days that followed, Rasha and I wandered the streets of the Imperial City together, inseparable. Rasha was unusually kind and attentive to me, and I was both amazed and overjoyed, savoring his presence and the clear light of the spring days. Ah, I was so young, and I couldn't have guessed that, in truth, my brother was saying goodbye to the city where he had spent his childhood and grown up! We shared unforgettable moments beneath the fresh foliage of the ancient trees in the Arboretum; we watched the bustling activity at the docks together and walked unafraid along the narrow, treacherous streets of the Waterfront District. During important religious festivals or whenever it was permitted, we would visit the grand reception hall of the Imperial Palace together; there, I felt wonderfully at ease, gazing at the gleaming white walls of intricately carved marble while holding Rasha's hand. At dusk, we sat on the newly opened terraces of upscale establishments in the Talos Plaza District, talking about anything that came to mind. It was profoundly comforting and delightful for me, as Rasha, when he chose to speak, always shared wise and captivating thoughts. He would also invent stories that I listened to, utterly enthralled, marveling at his talent and knowledge...

But, as with all good things in life, these joys did not last long. One day, without saying goodbye to anyone, Rasha left our parents' home forever. That morning, when I realized what had happened, something broke inside me, and I knew that my happy life here would soon come to an end. And, shortly after this, the dream occurred.