Gathering what little strength they had left, the group departed from the Salt Pit, which two of the group hoped would be for the last time. Half an hour across the fields in relative quietness before Reeva noted the sight of torches and the distant sounds of hooves announcing themselves behind them.

  Quickly ducking into a hedgerow, they saw that a patrol had excited from the Southern Gate of the city and were making speedy gains towards the Salt Pit. From such a distance, they were able to see that the clouds in the sky were still split in an unnatural pattern, leaving a gap for light to pierce through towards the ruined Salt Pit and the great ravine that had torn the surrounding land asunder.

  “Do you think that was what the Moral Fracture was like?” Boras asked Reeva quietly, fully able to survey the devastation wrought by Arcos and Alaintiqam’s climatic battle.

  “Maybe, or just a small part of it…” she replied. To which, Boras whistled under his breath from fear, not awe.

  Happy that they were not sighted, including that none of them dared to light a torch to light their way nor mark their location, they continued their journey.

  After crossing over the rushing waters of Dargan’s Arrow, they were back on the Western Road that would lead them towards Silverstreak.

  A few hours later, they were making good progress (being able to finally see the Northern Mountains on the horizon), Boras complained from pain growing in his legs. The wounds he had sustained from both fights were wearing him down. Equally voicing his discomforts were Reeva and Torrance, who were nursing bad wounds as well. It had been a toll on all of them. Tilda agreed after some deliberation and elected to take a short rest by an apple tree that Torrance and Tilda were both familiar with.

  Once rested, they would leave and be able to catch up with the rescue convoy that was still travelling on the Western Road within the same day. Being a much smaller group, they would catch up to them easily.

  Finding the tree, the group settled down for a moment. Courageous acted as a living sofa, allowing the exhausted Nerisity and Arcos to rest their backs against the already snoring beast’s side. His fur was very soft and Arcos struggled to stay awake against the warm touch at his back and Nerisity’s soft hand in his.

  Reeva and Boras rested nearby whilst Tilda and Torrance - despite the sheer exhaustion they must have been fighting with like the rest - already put themselves on watch duty for any uninvited guests.

  The sun was rising steadily in the eastern horizon, passing a calm yellow hue across the sky and illuminating the landscape brighter than before. It was a peaceful sunrise.

  Being one to read and understand omens, Tilda allowed a small smile. It was a sign that their troubles were finally behind them for good. Or at least temporarily.

  Stopping by the group, Tilda eyed the wrapped and tied package that contained the cursed sword Alaintiqam. That dangerous weapon, responsible for so many deaths across history and tonight included. It stunned Tilda to imagine that that blade was under her nose and everyone else’s for nearly an entire year. It also made her think about the Aged Ones and the Denigrations. If Alaintiqam and Eadala were forged into weapons, could other weapons or items out there in the world be the same? How many ethereal beings from the Moral Fracture were out there? Those that are dormant, waiting to be found… and to be unleashed?

  That thought gave Tilda a shiver in her spine that she was not at all comfortable with. This had to be addressed, such an invisible danger could not be ignored. Otherwise, a catastrophe far worse than last night could occur.

  She then looked at Scar-Sire, now known as Eadala. It lay in its scabbard that was latched to Arcos's hip. She recalled that blade being passed down through the Guild, from Child to Child, being told that it was found by Ashgoth Wolfsbane after a fateful encounter with a Fey fighter. It was her truest weapon, that represented the Black and the Guild in its entirety and cemented Ashgoth’s legend for all time. Tilda felt honoured to have received the blade, as it was a testament to her own skill with swordplay.

  Tilda had allowed Eadala to remain with Arcos as she was now untrusting of that weapon. She had not sensed any power nor sentience from it since it came into her possession, though Arcos explained later that Eadala purposely hid their power to avoid detection from Alaintiqam.

  He also told Tilda of Eadala’s subtle suggestions to her to be wary of Alaintiqam’s growing influence on Arcos, which perturbed her.

  She did not appreciate being manipulated by another without her knowledge, no matter how noble the intent. Which led to her distrust of the sword.

  She was intrigued by this blade, however. It had bestowed great power to Arcos, staving off death from his mortal wounds and granting temporary strength to her and the others. It also claimed to serve the Black, which was some consolation of her concern for the sword. What other uses the blade claimed to have, she and the others could not guess. But once more, this was an issue to be discussed at length with the Elders.

  The world was changing too quickly, the Guild had to change with it.

  After Torrance had expended all the Blood’s Bark he had on his person, the group felt rested and healed enough to at least complete the journey. Able to stand on his own, Arcos was able to walk steadily, albeit using a sturdy branch from the apple tree as a walking stick. With his amputated wrist in a makeshift sling (courtesy of Boras's shirt and much to his consternation), he walked with the others. Nerisity had not recovered enough and was eventually placed on Courageous’ back, which the Sarku found no complaint with. The group made their way onwards along the Western Road.

  The air was cleaner now, refreshed by the mountains’ clouds that swept down along the southern-borne winds. Torrance sucked in the air through his nostrils.

  “Gods…” he sighed. “Can’t remember the last time I came this far north. It is a good scent.”

  “Nostalgic?” Reeva asked him with a smile.

  “Aye. It is…” Torrance replied. He pointed west. “There’s a place a few miles that way. Carpenter’s Nook. A little hamlet where I learnt trade as part of my childhood. That place was a second home to me once.” His face turned melancholic. “Lots of memories there…”

  Reeva noted that look he had and looked towards Tilda. Tilda was keeping her eyes forward, focused as usual, on the goal ahead. She did not betray any reaction to Torrance’s comment. Once again, that unspoken history between the two adults bothered and vexed Reeva. She was curious by nature and she was helpful to a fault. Once again, she wondered what happened and how she could bring the two of them together. She had seen them fight together. They were incredible partners in combat, one complimented the other expertly. It would be a terrible waste of skill alone for them to be at such odds. But that was a problem for another day, so Reeva put that quandary at the back of her mind. For now.

  Two hours had passed and it was Tilda who sighted the convoy first.

  The large group of travellers were making good headway along the small offshoot river of Dargan’s Arrow on the side of the Western Road, crossing over the wooden bridge over the Corikyne before the final trek towards Silverstreak - which could be seen in the far distance at the base of the clearly visible mountains.

  The convoy would be arriving at the town moments before they would.

  Boras sighed. “Finally… I’m not made for long distance…” He gathered himself up and walked with a better pace, matched by Torrance, Tilda, Reeva and Nerisity upon Courageous.

  They had walked a few steps before noticing that Arcos had not moved. Stopping, they turned back to face him.

  Arcos was standing, resting on his walking stick and looking down at the ground. He was quiet, like he had been for the whole trip. They had assumed that he was too tired to speak, but this was clearly something else.

  “Arcos?” Reeva asked first, approaching him slowly. She glanced towards the packed Alaintiqam, which was strapped to the armour of Courageous’s rear hind. It had remained dulled and silent. She looked back to Arcos and asked again. “Arcos?”

  Arcos began to shake his shoulders as he stared at the ground.

  Nerisity slid off Courageous’s back and joined Reeva’s side.

  Arcos looked up at them all and they saw the tears. His eyes were red and tears flowed in a silent cry. It was clear to them now that he had been crying for a while, but remained quiet.

  None of them knew.

  Nerisity moved first and quickly approached him. She stopped a few steps before him as he wept.

  “Hey… What’s the matter? Arcos??” Nerisity asked, feeling the tears well up in her own eyes.

  And with that, Arcos could no longer hold back his emotions.

  “I’m so sorry!” He yelled at her, at them all. The sudden volume of his scream was so shocking, it shocked even Tilda. “I’m so… I’m so fucking… I’m so sorry…”

  Nerisity did not say anything. She only looked into his eyes.

  Arcos continued blurting. “I nearly killed you! I nearly killed you! Oh Gods… I killed so many people… I was hurt. Scared. And angry! I wanted to hurt so many people… I wanted to kill so many people. I wanted to make them suffer like I did! It just hurts so much… and I… I… I don’t know how I can ever get your forgiveness…. I can’t forgive myself… I was so stupid… I was so foolish… Please forgive me… Please forgive me… I know I don’t deserve it though. But I… I want to have the chance to prove that I can be of help.”

  He lowered his head again and yelled at the ground. It was a long, heart-rending scream of pain and exhaustion, of relief and shame, of anger and trauma. All of the suffering he had built up in his soul came pouring out from within and there seemed to be no stopping it.

  He stopped his scream long enough to choke on his spit and coughed out: “I- I love you all so much… But I don’t deserve to say that! But I want that! I want to love you guys! I want you to love me! But I’m so scared. So scared! I don’t want to be alone anymore! I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say, I-”

  Nerisity felt a dash of movement flow past her.

  Arcos felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his body and bury his head into the hugger’s shoulder. He opened his eyes and recognised the raven hair and Tilda’s face looking down at him.

  He froze. As did everyone else. Tilda was hugging him. Tilda Foxhunter was hugging him.

  She looked down at him with utter heartbreak cracking through her stoic expression. Her eyes were watery as she whispered out one sentence:

  “All that matters is that you came back to us. And that you are alive and safe.”

  Arcos broke down. He reached up and gripped Tilda’s back, digging his fingers into her clothes as he wailed into her shoulder, soaking her cloak with his tears. He fell to his knees, bringing her down with him. On the ground, Tilda wordlessly held him close as he howled, wept and cried all he could.

  Nerisity, distressed by this sight, rushed to Arcos's back and held him from behind. She kissed the back of his head and rubbed her face into his neck.

  Reeva and Boras rushed over, knelt by his sides and held his hands. Boras was practically bawling himself whilst Reeva allowed a few tears to sneak through.

  Torrance stood by them and placed one gentle hand on Arcos's shoulder.

  Courageous approached the huddled group and made a simple, low chuff.

  The group slowly broke away, allowing a gap in the group hug for Arcos to face the Sarku as the beast slunk forward. On his knees, Arcos was eye-level with the beast, who stared back at him with those golden eyes.

  Arcos would see himself reflected in Courageous’s wide, dilated pupils. He could see his strange new hair, his strange new eyes and the scarred face that beheld him. He looked so different, was he really the one who stared back at him?

  Arcos reached out a hand and gently stroked Courageous’s face. The Sarku made no movement to avoid the touch. But his eyes changed. The diluted pupils narrowed to slits and he made a low, rumbling chuff.

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  Courageous bowed his head and butted it against Arcos's chest, causing Arcos to hug the Sarku’s head and neck. Arcos laughed.

  Gods, when was the last time that he actually laughed?

  “I love you the most, buddy…” Arcos said gently into the Sarku’s ear. To which, Courageous replied with a long, slobbery lick across Arcos's face. Arcos did not protest.

  “Well, I guess that makes the forgiveness official.” Boras quipped with a wet snort of his nose, drawing exhausted laughter from Reeva, Torrance and Nerisity.

  Torrance looked towards Tilda to see her smile. It was a smile he had not seen on her face for a very long time. Tilda noted him seeing it and immediately downcast it with a stoic nod as she stood back up.

  “Good. Now shall we go home?” She asked the group.

  They all nodded as one, including the Sarku.

  Arcos rose back with some recovered strength and a lighter chest. Standing with the group, he walked in tandem with Nerisity, who rode on Courageous.

  The Sarku made no complaint with her on his back. He only chuffed quietly when Nerisity reached forward to scratch behind his ears.

  The group no longer travelled in pensive silence; Reeva and Boras happily chatted unimportant facts and opinions with Tilda, things that they had discovered during their time in Fennaposia, with Torrance supplying Tilda with information on their dealings with the Mercury Gang.

  Arcos and Nerisity held hands along their walk. Nerisity gripped it gently, prompting Arcos to look at her. She looked down at him and smiled. He smiled back. But he could see it in her eyes and in her smile.

  In the months that he had spent with her before the madness and death, he had seen many of her emotions. Bouts of irritation, sadness, remorse, and ecstasy. But joy most of all. He was most acquainted with that expression of hers, which concerned him. He could not see that in her smile now. There was a sadness in there. A broken heart. A grief. And Arcos had a very clear understanding of what kind. There was a conversation to be had between them soon. And it was not going to be a good one. So he continued to smile, hoping that that would at least give her some comfort and intending to enjoy this moment of quietude while it lasted.

  ???

  They could hear a great swell of commotion coming from the town as they neared the first frontier houses of Silverstreak. The houses looked cleaner. They looked renovated and the soot from the burning of The Vanishing Ale was no longer in sight. They then saw the convoy gathered in the centre of the main street with all of the surviving locals bursting out from the doors of all the nearby houses and surging into and through the rescued, searching for loved ones and friends. There were cries of joy, sadness, mourning and sorrow, but an exuberance of celebration ruled the din that the thronging mass created. The group breathed a sigh of relief. They were back home.

  Arcos spied out the survivors of the Mercury Gang’s division, standing off to the side on the porch of the Lawgivers’ office with Vanto and Sitra, who was resting on a chair with a bandaged leg in a splint propped on a stool.

  Doctor Hacker was busy sprinting around the mass of people, organising the injured and the sick into appropriate groups to be treated with some of the healthier victims assisting him. Malka Hunter, bandaged in a great many cloths and rags that were already stained with her blood, was laid on a stretcher with a group of people in serious condition. She was very still, but the occasional movement of one of her wrapped arms showed that she still lived.

  And it was in one of those, a child with a bandage over his right eye, pointed at him and the others with a shout. “LOOK! IT’S THEM!”

  Most of the masses stopped momentarily, turning heads and eyes to the late group that stopped at the entrance of the town.

  Arcos and the others stopped and looked back at all the Silverstreakers, the other villagers from the ransacked towns, the remaining Waywards and the Mercurials. They all stared back at them.

  Then as one, the entirety of the town erupted into a raucous cheer.

  They rushed for the group and Arcos found himself grabbed and hugged and patted on the back.

  Cheers and whoops and gratitudes rained down on their ears as Boras, Reeva, and Torrance were kissed on the cheek by a dozen women. Tilda’s hands were shaken by all those who could reach her, Courageous was petted by nearly all the children and some of the adults. He did nothing to resist this shower of love; he loved it.

  Nerisity spied the Belle Dame amongst the throng of people and shouted, “Ma’am!”

  The Belle Dame, beleaguered like all the rest, rushed through the throng surrounding them. Nerisity dropped from Courageous’ back, and the two embraced in a tight hug. The Belle Dame burst into tears as she pulled Nerisity into her chest with a tight embrace.

  “Out of the way! Out of the way!” came a booming voice.

  Men of the town were knocked aside as a bandaged Barnabas barreled through and scooped up Reeva, Boras, and Arcos into a tight hug that could have rivalled Alaintiqam in strength. The three gasped in pain, but the bear of a man did not care. He was too busy weeping an uncontrolled sob as he swung them around. “You three are the maddest, most reckless, and bravest kids I’ve ever had the good nature of knowing! Bless you, you louts!” he boohooed.

  Boras wondered, as the air was driven from his lungs, if he was going to die after all.

  Barnabas dropped the three and raised a fist into the air to the people. “Three cheers for the Heroes of Silverstreak! Hip hip…”

  “HURRAH!” replied the crowd.

  “Hip, hip!”

  “HURRAH!”

  “HIP, HIP!”

  “HURRAH!”

  The celebration was a short one, though a lively one.

  Arcos and his friends made their rounds to all the people who came to greet them, thanked them, and offered them any and all they could ask for. But the three declined the offers politely.

  Torrance convened with the last of the Waywards, ensuring that they were well before meeting with the Mercury Gang.

  Vanto explained that ‘that mysterious lot of Tilda’s’ were holed up in the Hunters’ Lodge where Jimiza had allowed them to stay. The Children had asked to steer clear of the Silverstreakers as to adhere to their ever-weakening creed of isolation, so the Lodge was the best place to be. Tilda bid the group a temporary farewell before heading towards the Lodge to talk with the Children, including Siblings Valari, Vance, and Custio.

  Jimiza subsequently rushed through and gave her adoptive sister Reeva a tight hug. Taking Reeva away from the group, Jimiza rushed over to Letti, who was with the injured and being cared for by Hacker. Letti smiled weakly but kissed Reeva on her cheek. Reeva cried and stayed with her, asking Hacker if she could care for her now. Hacker, grateful for the extra help, moved on to others that required his intellect.

  Boras walked with Barnabas and offered his help to break down more of the burned-out houses of the town, so that reconstruction could commence.

  Which left Arcos alone with Nerisity and Courageous. They walked with the Belle Dame, who took them towards the Night Tavern. The place was still in a poor state. Some of the fine, stained-glassed windows were still broken, the signs of Arcos's bloody assault upon the building were still prevalent in the sword marks on the walls, and the flecks of blood still stained in the woodwork.

  The Nightwomen and Nightmen moved in and around the building in a shuffle, keeping quiet and murmuring under their breaths. After the horrors they experienced at the hands of Markus's soldiers, Arcos knew it was going to take a lot for these people to even consider returning to their lifestyle. Before Markus came, the Nightpeople were thought of in high regard, and they themselves believed they were untouchable under the agreement made by Baroness Francisca. But after Markus's vicious arrival… they were sorely reminded that they were just chattel for the Barons, just like everyone else.

  That put a somber spell upon them, and Arcos saw that same spell cast over Nerisity.

  The sadness he had seen on her smile was more apparent now that she was back home. An uncomfortable conversation was coming. He hoped that he would be ready.

  Arcos hugged Nerisity with one arm and kissed her forehead before he left her with the Belle Dame.

  Nerisity needed space, though she did not say it.

  Arcos knew it well, as he himself wanted space to think. Departing her, Arcos walked with Courageous towards the fields of the West. After walking a few minutes, he took off Eadala from his belt, drew the sword from the sheath, and studied the weapon. It was still jet black, much like his left eye. He could see his reflection in the surface.

  “I don’t know if you’re still there.” Arcos said. “But if you are awake, I want to thank you. For everything. Thank you, Eadala.”

  He placed Eadala back into the sheath and sat down on the grass with Courageous at his back. There he stayed, breathing slowly and attempting to calm his mind. It had been a bad couple of weeks, and Arcos just wanted some peace.

  Ten minutes later, he heard footsteps. He turned, rising to his feet to see Boras and Reeva approaching.

  “What is it?” Arcos asked, already fearing the answer.

  Boras and Reeva exchanged a solemn look. Boras answered, “Barnabas and the Belle Dame… they’ve got a pyre prepped.”

  “For who?” Arcos asked further.

  “Um…” Boras looked a little sickened. “It’s for… it’s for the baby.”

  “Oh.” Arcos suddenly felt dizzy. He had forgotten about that. He had actually forgotten. That was the reason Nerisity was so saddened. And he had forgotten about their dead child. In all the madness, that was a pain he had yet to process.

  He reached out his only hand, and Reeva grabbed it. That helped steady his body.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Arcos warned.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” she held his hand warmly. “Come on.”

  Arcos nodded, and the trio, followed by a glum Courageous, eventually headed back towards the town.

  Arcos threw up halfway there.

  The pyre was a small occasion. Only a select few were in attendance for this. The Children of the Black, the Nightpeople, Tilda, Torrance, Barnabas, the Belle Dame, Vanto, Sitra, and Nerisity. Nerisity was dressed in a simple black dress with a veil, like the Belle Dame. Standing closest to the unlit pyre was Nerisity with the Belle Dame. She held a small bouquet of white lilies and stood in silence like her colleagues of the Night Tavern.

  The rest of the town was excluded from this out of respect for the ones in grief and for the simple fact that they had seen enough pain and wished to be spared more.

  Tilda stood with the Children, Vance, Custio, and Valari in respectful silence. This was a solemn day, one that the Black would consider a truly crucial part of life. There were no barbed words exchanged between Tilda and Vance. Nor did the Children regard Torrance with loathing. All were equal in this moment of mourning.

  Vanto and Sitra were away from both groups. They understood the issue and remained aloof from the scene, but attended to show their own emotional support and respect to their new business partners.

  The pyre was set up a few metres from the cherry tree where Derrick lay buried. It was a two-metre-tall wood pile, where at the top lay a small body wrapped tightly in clothes and tied together with twine.

  Arcos could barely look at the pyre and the body it held. He was feeling the pain, of a unique kind, twisting his gut and chest. Every time he breathed, he felt a tightness that strained against his ribs. Reeva and Boras stood with him, supporting his arms as they walked in unison.

  Seeing Nerisity, Arcos felt his body grow cold and shake. He wanted to run away. But a jab in the back from Reeva’s finger snapped him out of his stupor.

  “She needs you.” She hissed. “Snap out of it!”

  Arcos gulped his pain and anxiety.

  He gritted his teeth and approached Nerisity.

  Nerisity saw him coming and smiled that painful smile once again, though it felt hollow now to Arcos. He stood with her and took her hand, feeling the flowers lightly stroke his skin. His heart hammered.

  Barnabas used a flint to set alight a torch and held it aloft as he stepped forward to face the group.

  “Well… this is never easy to address here.” He began. “We’ve all been here before for those gone towards the World Beyond. Friends, families, pets… And every time, it hurts. It hurts because we love the people we’re saying goodbye to. But it’s a hurt we can bear up because it’s inevitable. It happens… This one hurts the most because it didn’t need to happen.”

  Nerisity bit her lips as her shoulders started to shake from a body-shuddering sob that clutched her throat. Arcos reached up his hand to her shoulder and held her close to him. She curled into his body.

  Barnabas continued his speech, though his voice became a little ragged with emotion and tears edged along his eyes.

  “Losing a child is never easy. Either to nature, or disease or accident… So it would be understandable to break down. What I say is this; do that. Break down and cry. Because it’s a hells of a lot better than pretending that it doesn’t affect you. Being truthful…yeah…”

  He wiped his nose. And then looked to the pyre. “Sorry, little ‘un. I hope you find something better in the World Beyond.” He stepped towards the pyre and dropped the torch into the wicker and hay at the base of the pyre. Barnabas stepped back as the fire leapt up quickly along the dry kindling.

  The fire quickly consumed the pyre.

  Nerisity dropped the flowers and fell to her knees. She howled into the ground, whilst grabbing at her stomach.

  Arcos dropped to her side and held her close. She continued to wail and cry as the fire destroyed the wood and the small body lay amongst its logs.

  No one said a word.

  The fire did not last long. By the time the pyre was reduced to little more than a large pile of ash with jutting black pieces of charcoal, most of the attendees had departed towards the town. But Nerisity and Arcos remained, still kneeled on the grass and looking into the fire. At the back, Boras and Reeva stood with Tilda and Torrance, all heads down in quiet reflection.

  Courageous nestled behind the two grieving parents of the little one in the fire. He did not understand the custom of burning human kittens in a fire, for he was familiar with the teachings his mother had taught him. That your body rots away into the grass, feeding the worms that would feed the birds, in turn the birds would feed the Sarki. But humans were strange creatures and Courageous understood at least that they needed this ceremony to make sense of the demise. Courageous curled his body around the pair and nuzzled his head under Nerisity’s elbow. She gently stroked his ears and whispered a thank you to him. He moaned sadly. He did not like seeing the female cry.

  Torrance spared a glance towards Tilda and he was shocked to see the woman wiping her eyes. She had been crying. But as subtly and silently as could be managed. Her knuckles were white from tension and her jaw muscles twitched with the gritting of her teeth. He felt a pang of memory strike him. This would be bringing up a lot of bad memories for her.

  Tilda met his look and held it there for a long time.

  Torrance felt his hand twitch. He wanted to take hers and squeeze it tightly. Tell her that everything was going to be alright. Make her feel safe like he used to all that time ago. But it was all that time ago. So much had happened between them now, so how could he ever make up for what he had done? How could she make up for the time lost? So he smiled sadly towards her, reached out his hand and patted his shoulder. He turned and walked away.

  Tilda watched him go. She opened her mouth to say something. But she could not summon the monumental strength it required to say what was needing to be said. So she closed her mouth, sighed through her nose, and turned away as well, heading towards another part of the town.

  Reeva prodded Boras on the back and thumbed over her shoulder, silently telling him to let the two be in peace. Boras gave a glance to the pair on the grass and nodded once. They too departed.

  Arcos and Nerisity stayed in that silence. Neither of them spoke to each other during the burning. They only held one another. Nerisity was tired. So tired. So tired that she was not able to cry anymore. She absentmindedly played with the flowers on her lap, looking into the ash for any sign that her baby once existed. But all she could see was the embers and the ash.

  Arcos, barely hanging on as he was, rubbed his right wrist. It was freshly bandaged by Hacker and placed in a new sling around his neck. It was a dulled pain, mostly thanks to a fresh dose of poppy milk that helped lower the pain he felt there and the rest of his slowly healing body.

  Soon, it felt time to leave.

  So Arcos gently squeezed her shoulder and rose to his feet. Nerisity needed help to stand but rose up as well. Courageous yawned, stretched his body, and followed the pair as they walked hand-in-hand back towards Silverstreak.