• Closed • [Eastern Gauthrel]Pups on their own, Part 1: Hydration

[Varthakh]

60th Ymiden 717

The pair had travelled far, laying together, bound and unconscious on the back of a cart. Bags had also been cast over their heads in case they were to wake up during the transportation to where the trial would be taking place. The human, Alistair, had attempted the trial before and failed. Whether this gave him an advantage or not was uncertain. Sure, he knew what to expect, but he also knew the consequences of failure. Would fear cripple his performance? It didn't matter. Being short on men and resources, it was decided that the pair may perform this trial together, again, that may be an advantage or a disadvantage in any given situation.

The two had been told that the trial would begin from the trill that they both woke up. They would have to avoid capture and injury to the best of their ability until the trial was announced over.
The first thing that the Lothar felt as he stirred was a distinct cold moistness on his face... bristles too. Was he taking a cold bath? No, he didn't believe so. Fridgar would move a little, turning his face from the moistness, rolling slightly in his half sleep. A bit later, he opened his eyes warily, beholding the wet grass of a fresh morning. Fridgar groaned, rolling onto his back. A sudden ungodly coldness wracked him, surging through his spine and declaring something wrong. Of course, he was naked. All that he wore was his fur loincloth.

Somehow, assimilation had stopped working almost entirely, he couldn't take on a set of clothes anymore, so adorned himself with bare necessities. The Lotharen didn't seem to mind his choice in fashion, though it did earn him the occasional strange look. As such, his back was bare and very cold against the ground. Fridgar squirmed, sitting up in a hurry. He found that his hands were stuck behind his back. Giving a light pull suggested that he was bound by rope. Fridgar sighed with relief, glad that he wasn't in chains. A full-on pull would snap the fibres of the rope one by one, spanning the most part of a bit before separating entirely.

The loud snap declared that he was free, though he hadn't the sense to pay attention to it. His shoulders would roll, limbering up a little before looking to his right to behold the laying body of Alistair, he was also bound with a bag over his head.

Briefly, Fridgar thought about what the fuck was going on before realising, this was a trial. Instantly, his demeanour grew more inverse, looking about the treeline of the woods they had woke up in. No sign of any movement passed his unobservant eyes, good. "Alistair!" Fridgar whispered harshly, a futile attempt to awaken his beloved. Fridgar shook his head, massaging his wrists of the rope burn before settling down to untie Alistair's ropes. For some reason, Alistair had a bag over his head. Why hadn't Fridgar woke up with one of those? A quick glance behind him revealed a similar fashioned bag, he passed it off as slipping from his head while he slept. Soon enough, the rope fell apart, releasing his beloved, his bag followed soon after. His cautious eyes darted along the tree line some more, ever watching and ever fearful for the trial ahead.

"Alistair!" Fridgar whispered some more, trying his best to rouse his mate. When nothing happened, Fridgar would shake his head, discontented with the results before snaking his arms under the Venora and lifting him from the damp grass. Remaining as vigilant as possible, Fridgar started to run, keeping close to the brush. In truth, he had no Idea what he was doing. Every time he found himself faced with the predicament of staying in the wild for the night, he assumed the form of an animal that suited his needs. He'd resolved to refrain from using his totems, but had brought them along assimilated anyway. He could still manage to assimilate three items, but not as many as before. He'd taken the king crocodile totem, the redbear totem and the Fridgar totem, but they were a last resort.

"Alistair, please wake up. I need you..." he whispered into the unconscious ear of his beloved.

[Alistair]

Please, he whispered, begging the man before him as his hands clasped more tightly together. There were tears streaming from his eyes, his lips covered with moisture and his neck dirtied from the grime of the woods. Alistair was on his knees, and for some reason, he felt wholly incapable of standing and walking. Before him was a man, much taller and larger than him, with a black bag over his head with two holes for his eyes. His chest was covered in a bloodied white cloth, whilst his utility belt - utterly cluttered - held a mixture of tools, weapons and other mysterious things.

Please, he begged again, nearly incapable of speaking. His throat felt clogged, he couldn't...

The mask came off. It was Fridgar, his love. Alistair's eyes immediately rose with excitement, and he crawled to the man's feet to grovel. Please, Fridgar, give me your... he begged, watching as his beloved Lothar peeled away at his bloodied white shirt, and...

. . .

He stirred. Alistair, please wake up... I need you... his havendal begged. Alistair was moving. He was being carried, by Fridgar, a demonstration of the man's monstrous strength. The mage winced, and looked around worriedly, taking in his surroundings. He could feel his body complaining - he was woken from such an interesting dream, and thrown into... this. What was the dream, though? He needed to think about it. Oh, right. At first he thought he was about to be butchered by some psychopath, but actually...

The mage blushed, and looked up at his mate. Damn, his dreams were getting kinkier, and weirder.

"Fridgar?" the mage asked, before motioning to be let down. Once Fridgar did so, he would gather himself, stumbling a bit before leaning into a tree. "Are we... on the Trial of the Hunted?" he questioned, brow raising. They must have been. Damn, he'd slept so long. If not for Fridgar, he likely would've not woken up in time, and been eaten. In a place like this, one needed to be vigilant of their surroundings, even whilst consumed by dreams.

Looking around, and rubbing his eyes, the mage yawned. "I wonder what they have in store for us. They say our predator is supposed to be superior to us, so we have to run and attempt to turn the tables some unconventional way. But, they put us both together. Is there a creature that ousts two of us, combined?" he asked, scratching his head. "And if so, can you imagine such a thing? They would have to have hauled it in a terrendyte cage across Gauthrel. It would need to be..." he grumbled, and then, so too did his stomach. Looking up at Fridgar, he bit his lip. The other man would feel hungry too -- incredibly hungry. Alistair typically only needed eat once every few trials at the most, yet somehow, he felt that he was starving. And thirsty.

"Fridgar, let's find some food. We won't be able to fight this creature at full strength if we're starving and dehydrated," he said, quirking his lip. He was only wearing a loincloth - they'd stripped him of his armor again. But, he still had Shadowsong, which was what mattered. Alistair didn't need armor, but he needed his spear.

[Varthakh]

Fridgar's ears flicked, perking up as he heard the voice of his beloved "Alistair!" He whispered with joy, glad to see that his mate once again regained consciousness, "Keep your voice down, I don't know where it is," he warned as he tilted the weight of his mate, allowing his feet to touch the floor. He would only let go once he felt his mate take his full weight, as to prevent him from falling.

"Yeah, I think so. I haven't seen anything yet though. maybe they released the beast a few miles off?" he replied to the noble's suggestion of the trial they were currently undergoing. Though, it was possible that they'd dropped them from the back of the cart by accident. Where even were they? By the shade of the grass and the types of trees and foliage he could see in the area, he had a pretty good idea of which region they were at. "I think we're in the north, but I haven't seen any mountains yet. Maybe the east?" He offered with a shrug.

Just then, his stomach churned. It would growl viciously through his well-shaped abdomen, heralding his hunger. Not only that, but his throat and tongue were dry. A slight headache crept up along the insides of his skull. He knew that he needed food and water, lots of water. "We're gonna die of thirst a lot sooner than we're going to starve. I say we go for the nearest river. Sound like a plan?" He coughed into a balled fist. "Wolves fight harder when they're hungry, maybe the same can be said for us? Let’s get some water and think straight before tracking down some big nasty animal to kill. What about weapons?" Fridgar asked before rolling his eyes.

He looked to his fists rather sheepish. Of course, he'd brought his weapons of choice. Fridgar was the god of punching after all, He was more than confident in his ability to punch a big monster to death. But what about cooking the meat? Fridgar preferred a raw diet, but what about Alistair? Didn't he have a mutation that prevented him from eating fresh foods? He could recall something of the like when Alistair treated him in his medical office, just trials after they first met. "I can eat fresh from the kill, but what about you? What's the plan?" Fridgar asked, though his mutation prevented him from eating anything but meat.

Once the pair had decided on a course of action, Fridgar would look to his bear totem. The sense of smell would surely help them find water, but maybe they should try and find it themselves first? "We should head down hill, water pours down not up. If there's any in the area, it'll be flowing on the low ground, right?" Fridgar speculated before looking around him, examining the shape of the terrain. Nausea started to creep up, making him feel dizzy and off balance. Fridgar would clasp one side of his head as he focused, a futile attempt to dull the pain. "What do you think?" Fridgar asked, Alistair was the smarter of the two of them, even if Fridgar had lived in a woodland cabin for two seasons. What he thought had final say.

if he agreed with the Lothar, then he would proceed downhill, clasping his head as he went. Though his concentration wavered, denying him much awareness of his surroundings.

[Alistair]

Released the beast a few miles off? Possibly. How did they even handle this trial? What if the beast killed them before they awoke? What if some other creature managed to creep in through the Jeger formation, killing their Pups without them even noticing? The practicality of these trials was questionable, though he supposed they served the Jegers for generations -- he'd have to inquire on their downsides later. For now, he was lucky enough to say that he was still alive, with no Soraanar or Lurker slipping through the ranks and murdering the two of them in their sleep. That would've been an arbitrary and mundane way to leave this world, particularly after all he'd done to try and increase his station within it.

"I don't think we're in the North," the mage said, shaking his head. "I heard that the Clans have no dominion in the North. They wouldn't take us somewhere so dangerous... probably," he said, quietly, with little confidence in that statement. The Jegers didn't seem to shy from danger, so perhaps he was wrong. What was the landscape of the North, though? Wasn't it... mountains, valleys, rivers, plains? Not a forest like this. This had to be the east.

"Sounds like a plan, love," the mage whispered, half-clinging to the side of his lover and depending on him for guidance. He didn't know how to survive in the woods - he was raised in a castle, not in the wilderness. These lessons were new things to him. Water first, before food. Wolves fought harder among their hunger. Alistair wasn't sure if he did - he'd never really gone hungry, truly hungry. There was always some fine dish waiting, somewhere, and if there wasn't he'd make it so.

His mutation enabled him to only eat once every few trials, his body maintaining its musculature and nutrition for an incredible period of time. Hunger was foreign to him, so foreign. This level of hunger was unprecedented, and so was this thirst. Even now, a part of him wished to be weak and teleport off to the city to eat. But - this was his trial, and he would need to succeed.

"Weapons?" he asked. Holding out Shadowsong to Fridgar, the mage nodded. "This is Shadowsong - a masterwork spear, Terrendyte and Beryllium Emerald. It's worth almost as much as our house," the mage said, shy regarding the amount of nels he'd spent on this thing. But, it was worth it - thing was badass, nearly indestructible by any means, light and yet capable of incredible piercing and penetration. He could likely puncture a Trachadon in a single lunge or sweep of this thing - it would serve useful in the following trials.

In regards to their eating, Alistair sighed. "I can't eat raw. I have to eat food that is both cooked and that comes from a creature that has been dead for at least a trial. If a plant, it must have been harvested a trial ago. It's one of my Necromancy mutations," he said, sighing. "So, we need to kill a beast and then dry the meat somehow - prevent it from rotting. I can prevent rot from growing on the meat with Necromancy, and keep it in good condition... but I think we should hang it up somehow. We have rope from our bindings," the mage pointed out. "But, we'll have to think about that later. For now, let's find water?" he requested, gesturing for his mate to lead the way.

It would be complicated to feed Alistair, but they'd only need to do it once.

We should head down hill, water flows down, not up, his havendal said. Alistair nodded his head, paying attention to the words. He didn't know that. Perhaps this would be a good experience in becoming a fieldcrafter.

He realized, actually, that he wasn't as hungry as Fridgar was. Whatever they did to them, Alistair's body ran on one meal for a long time, and he'd only just dipped into the beginning of his hunger. It would come quickly once his body hollowed out of nutrition, but for now, Fridgar suffered the most between the two of them. Alistair could not simply force him to lead the way and linger behind him, he'd need to be brave. Stepping forward, he nodded his head, and held his spear tightly between his hand.

"Let's go lower," he said, looking around. "We need to find water, as you said. But... I'm wondering something," the mage started, "as a doctor, I know a bit about nutrition. For survival purposes, it has to be best to drink uncontaminated, clear water, right? Isn't the water upstream cleaner? So many things go into water the more it goes downstream - piss, odor, muck, grime, the saliva of creatures above... I think once we find a river, we should go upstream. I can rupture us up there - the sound might even bring in some other predators, so we can start on our meal," he suggested. Perhaps his idea wasn't the brightest, but he was new at this. The Fields of Gauthrel was, of course, a monstrous place to begin one's wilderness experiences... but such was life.

[Varthakh]

The giant nodded lightly, Alistair made sense. "Yeah, I've only seen a couple of forests up there, not nearly as many trees as this. We have to be in the east," he agreed, looking to the sky. "Still, I don't think we came through here on our way to Uthaldria, we're gonna have to keep an eye out for landmarks and the like so we don't get lost," the two were on the same page, which was good. Conflicting arguments and ideas were the last thing they needed in survival situations like this.

In his paw, he still held the rope from Alistair's bindings, though it wasn't much. Around his wrists were the snapped remains of his ropes, they could surely be tied together then added to the other length? "I think we can craft these ropes together and maybe hang the odd beast from a tree. That'll take longer to spoil, too," Fridgar agreed again, Alistair knew more about survival than he let on. Alistair too agreed with him in finding water first, he also agreed with Fridgar’s ideas on how to find it. So it was settled, the pair began their walk downhill in search of water, meanwhile Fridgar untied his wrists.

The topic of water scum was brought to his attention in his hazy headache. He took a little time to respond, clearly drifting out of it. "Huh?" he looked up from his loosing wrist binds, "oh, scummy water..." Fridgar looked around himself, gathering his thoughts. "I'm not entirely sure, but I think we can use the bags they put over our heads to filter it, then maybe bathe and stuff upstream? I'm gonna be honest, I need water as soon as possible," His skin was flushed and his lips were dry, there was a certain look of wooziness about him as he struggled with simple tasks, growing nauseous and dizzy.

Without a word, Fridgar turned back and began to lumber up the hill, leaving his reddened rope-burn inflicted wrists for another bit. He would struggle as he climbed, even falling into a tree at one point. The nausea was evidently a lot worse than he let on. Desperate and barely thinking straight, Fridgar wiped some sweat from his brow and used his moistened fingers to wetten his mouth, barely noticing the salty flavour that blossomed in his maw.

Soon, he returned with both bags, though his affliction had worsened still. He appeared dirtier, as thought he'd stumbled and tumbled through the dirt at some point and has scratched and dirtied his paws, but seemed to be still functional. "I've got them, Alistair," his voice was dry, weak. Whatever drug they'd used to flush their bodies of resources and nutrients had a delayed effect in setting in the symptoms of dehydration and hunger. The two would proceed with the journey, maintaining stable footing as they wavered on the brink of collapsing from dire need for water.

"Alistair," Fridgar groaned with a dry coarse throat, absent-mindedly speaking. Fridgar stopped as a familiar sound met his ears; water. Flowing water could be heard near, though it was subtle. Fridgar looked about before seeing an indent in the ground a couple dozen meters away. "Can you hear it too?" He asked before breaking into a clumsy run for its direction. His legs felt weak, trembling under his weight as he struggled for the possible water source. There he found a narrow creek, filled with flowing water. This was a good sign. Nearer to upstream was surely the main body of the water, a potential river, but for now they had some dirty creek water and methods to filter it. Fridgar didn’t hesitate in putting the bag into the surface of the water and scooping up as much as he could. It would fill plentifully before Fridgar sealed off the entrance to the bag with the crease of his index finger and thumb and lifted it.

Clear water would flow from the fabric and that was good enough for him, raising the bag higher, more water ebbed from the bag and poured into his mouth as he positioned himself below it, barely trying to catch the water as it splashed all over his face. Quickly, he handed the half full bag to Alistair before filling the second bag and repeating the process, getting as much water as possible into his body. Alistair would be given the second bag, again half full. The process would repeat until both were thoroughly hydrated.

"Oh my god..." Fridgar spoke, satisfied, "is it just me, or is this the best creek water you've ever tasted?" It truly was, though he wasn't sure if Alistair had ever drunk from the creek?

[Alistair]

Fridgar had been to the North? His mate had gone on a lot of strange adventures when he wasn't around. Alistair would have to ask him about what he was doing up there -- he'd heard some epic things about the place, like that it hosted a dragon the size of a small nation. There was no greater beast in all the world, he'd heard, though that only made sense - Gauthrel was the homeland of the extreme, befitting of the men that ruled it.

Moving on, he listened to Fridgar's sagely fieldcraft advice. He'd heard of something called a drying rack before, either a professional wooden structure or a collection of sticks meant to hold meats and fish off the ground. This wasn't quite as efficient considering they'd probably only be able to hold one slab of meat at best, but alas, it was the best they could do with what they had. Alistair hadn't the faintest clue how to make a drying rack - tying something from a branch with their bindings was a lot easier.

"Okay," the mage said, nodding. "Rope-tying meat to prevent rot. That's pretty clever, you fiend," the mage said quietly, leaning into his mate and kissing at his sides, gently. The two of them were very dehydrated - while Alistair didn't need to eat so frequently, his hydration was still an issue, and even with his incredible endurance and vitality he found himself wavering. He knew if he had to kick into survival mode, he could live through the dehydration, but his health would suffer as a result and his body would be effected for some trials after.

They did, in fact, need water... and Fridgar had another brilliant idea. Using the bags to filter out the water, getting all the muck trapped in the tight weave of the fabric whilst the small drops seeped through. It probably wasn't as clear as Sabaissant's crystal mountain water, but the mage was beginning to realize that if he compared everything to home, the world would come to appear awfully uncivilized and unclean.

Fridgar went off to retrieve the bags, and Alistair slumped against a tree in silence as he waited. He felt awful for allowing his mate to make the journey alone, but the mage knew he would be going hungry for a lot longer, due to his unfortunate mutation. He had to preserve his energy and run on the same food for some time, at least another trial. When his mate returned to him, he rose with some stunted excitement and smiled at him.

"Good job," he responded, enduring through the thirst. He'd never really experienced dehydration to this degree, but he would force his body to press through it regardless.

His mate mentioning the sound of the water, Alistair's brow cocked, and he tilted his head. "Hn..." he sounded, attempting to hone into the noise. It required an immense amount of focus to make out what was clearly the running waters, though he didn't understand how he'd been able to hear it all. Perhaps his thirst had honed his hearing in desperation? Excitedly, he nodded to Fridgar, given a burst of energy from their exciting discovery. Alistair went to the creek's edge in a jog, though his expression grew somewhat perplexed if not outright disappointed at viewing the color of the water. Unlike the serene Venora blue, this water was... grimy looking. It didn't seem right.

Though, he knew the peasantry of the surrounding duchies often survived on muck such as this, or the distasteful water of a mediocre well. Gods, he needed to stop thinking like an aristocrat.

This was water. This was survival. He would just have to drink it. Allowing Fridgar to purify the water as best he could, Alistair placed his head beneath the running liquid, opening his mouth and catching some of the fluids pouring from the bag. It tasted . . . okay. Mediocre - verging on suspicious. Whilst Fridgar found that the water tasted incredibly well for a creek, Alistair wished desperately to be carrying a waterskin from home. Regardless, the water was rejuvenating, though he felt almost a stinging in his stomach as the addition of the fluid reminded him of his soon-debilitating hunger.

"Fridgar," he said, his face wet with water streaming down his neck, "I think this is the only creek water I've ever tasted," he admitted. "But it was good. You and I make a good wilderness team, even though I have no idea what I'm doing," Alistair stated with an awkward grin. Sticking his spear into the ground, he exhaled, and began to shake his body. He was feeling a bit better after that - capable of moving around freely, like a Shadowdancer again. Not all... slow, moping around.

This was the first time he'd experienced real thirst. It was a compelling experience, and it provided a piece of pity for the common man; now he knew the weakness that was dehydration. Next, hunger would be the one to strike.

"Fridgar, now that we've drunk something..." he started, "we need to kill something as soon as possible. It'll be at least twenty four breaks before I can eat it, so we can't wait around. I'm starving, my love," he groaned.

[Varthakh]

The pair took on as much water as they could, cycling through six bags or so. Their bodies would soak up the water like a sponge left in the desert for an arc. Soon enough, their bodies would strengthen and their vitality would restore partially. Fridgar had become a drinking machine in that instance, swallowing vast quantities of the most needed liquid, even if he wasn't thirsty.

The two were sat at the edge of the creek, recovering from their dehydration slowly. The life in Fridgar’s features would return, turning his lips back to their full healthy colour once more. His flushed skin returned to its normal tanned colour and his body seemed to completely recover before too long. While Alistair gathered his strength, Fridgar turned the bags inside out and wiped the green gunk from the surface into the grass, effectively cleaning the bags for their next use. Once he was finished, he ran the through the creek water to be rid of any persistent pieces of gunk.

Satisfied, he tucked the damp bags into his loin cloth edge before settling down to untie the ropes that were still tied to his wrists. With his focus returned, it wasn't too hard and he made short work of his left wrist. His right was just as easy for the secretly ambidextrous Lothar. Alistair stood, shoving his spear into the dirt while Fridgar got to tying the ends of the fragmented rope. By the end, he'd managed to tie a meter-long length of rope with two ties in it. Fridgar grinned, looking to Alistair with accomplishment.

Alistair spoke of how he hadn't drunk from a creek before, Fridgar grinned. "I've only done it a few times, it’s always been the well with me. You done good though, I can imagine a lot of noble's would bitch about drinking something like that." Fridgar wiped his lips into his forearm, finding that his features were far less sensitive now.

"We can totally use this rope to string up your food until tomorrow, love," when they found it, that was. It seemed that his beloved was looking rather displeased with the fact that he wouldn't be eating until the next trial. Fridgar lowered his head. He should have let Alistair drink from the water first, he wasn't the one who would be hungry for an entire trial. The loving giant would stand and tie the rope around him from shoulder to hip, an easy method of carrying both the bags and the rope.

He would approach his mate and wrap his arms around the distressed human. "The first animal we kill, we'll string it all up and you can cook and eat all of it tomorrow, I'll wait until the second one comes around, don't you worry," Fridgar assured the human while holding him. "Also, I'll take double watches tonight. You need to save your energy on an empty stomach," Fridgar hugged tighter around the human. "I won't take no as an answer. I don't want you burning your muscle, you sexy beast," Fridgar spoke coyly as he kissed his hungry mate on the cheek.

"I say we head upstream like you said, I figure this creek is just a part of a bigger river. Predators and prey alike, I’d imagine they drink water too, right? Heading up there will mean a hefty fight, but food. And just like wolves, we're gonna fight twice as hard for our food, okay? Let’s go," Fridgar spoke to his mate, cuddling him firmly. He’d done all he could to assure him it would be okay, he’d shown no doubt. They would get out of this, and they would get out whole. Asserting that attitude, the pair would head off with Alistair in front. He wanted to keep an eye on the poor human.

[Aeon]

Alistair

Skill Knowledge:

Endurance: Fighting through dehydration
Endurance: Fighting through hunger
Endurance: Striding through incredible weakness
Fieldcraft: Water is cleaner upstream
Fieldcraft: Purifying water with a bag
Fieldcraft: Finding a creek via sound
Fieldcraft: Using everything at your disposal
Strength: An empty stomach can burn through muscle

Other Knowledge:

Fridgar: Clever
Fridgar: Survivor
Fridgar: Gallant to his kindal
Understanding a peasant's thirst
Northern Gauthrel: Few trees
Eastern Gauthrel: Many forests

Loot:

N/A

Injuries:

N/A

Fame:

N/A

Devotion:

N/A

Magic:

These points can NOT be used for Domain Magic

Points awarded:

15

Fridgar

Skill Knowledge:

Endurance: Working through dehydration
Fieldcraft: Make the most of resources provided
Fieldcraft: Locating water sources down hill
Fieldcraft: Filtering scummy water for drinking
Fieldcraft: A lot easier with becoming
Fieldcraft: Tying knots
Fieldcraft: The importance of keeping hydrated
Strength: Carrying an unconscious ally to safety

Other Knowledge:

Alistair: Unfamiliar with the wilderness
Alistair: Appreciates your expertise
Eastern Gauthrel: Full of trees
Location: Eastern Gauthrel
Path of the Jeger: Left you and Alistair for dead?
path of the Jeger: Trials are hardcore

Loot:

1 meter long length of rope, 2 bags that can be used for filtering water

Injuries:

Headache, should pass within a trial if you get something to eat. Rope burns - Should be healed completely in 3 trials

Fame:

+1 General good deed (Carrying Alistair), Sorry, saying you're gonna let him take the first animal you kill doesn't count as a good deed :/

Devotion:

N/A

Magic:

These points can NOT be used for Domain Magic

Points awarded:

15

Comment:

Man, I just love seeing Alistair fail, or be helpless. It's so satisfying to me, as a commoner, y'know Anyways, great thread, can't wait for the rest of them, I love reading the Fridgali adventures, even if I'm not reviewing them!

Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Have a wonderful day!