Eclipse: the Beginning

Regent Willow sat on the floor of a holding cell. Her hands trembled as they held onto a limp one, smaller than her own. She was fighting back tears. In all her years of service to the crown, she had never left so helpless. Lying on a bed of straw and cloth, the elderly Wingie she had intended to bring home was clinging to life after a merciless beating. Across from her, a young reserve was whistling softly. It had been centuries since she had witnessed a wind healing spell. She prayed it would be enough to save the broken woman.

Yishmael remained calm and relaxed, allowing wind to flow through him as he had learned in his childhood. The breath leaving his lips did not cease, continuing in a constant flow. He was not even breathing, for his body was a vessel of his element. His hands swept before him, guiding the pure air to the injuries his elder possessed. They were many: bruises, broken bones, gashes. The invisible current weaved like stitches to the wounds, and the cool breeze calmed the swollen welts and bruising. Yishmael had seen nothing like this before, but he did not feel hesitation. This Wingie was one of his predecessors – the people Bog had taken from him. He would do anything to save her, even defy the viceroy’s commands. What did he have to fear though? Namas had given him such favor that he felt liberated.

“How goes the healing?” Warden Caleb spoke once he closed the door behind him. “Yonah said no one has noticed the breeze back here, but has there been any improvement?”

“She stopped moaning after you left,” Willow said wearily. Her eyes were heavy, watching the patient. “The reserve has not stopped his spell. I pray this means there is some progress.”

“When Yishmael told me of his heritage today, I felt guilty asking him to do this. Yonah had neglected to tell me he was a Wingie.” Caleb stared at the reserve as he worked. All this time, he served Bog without question or protest. What emotions had he battled in his time with the military? It was inspiring. He wished there was something he could do to end this spiraling situation. He would have given anything for a change in the wind right about now.

“It all seems like things are coming to some kind of peak, does it not?” The warden glanced at the regent, uncertain if she was speaking to him or herself. “This poor Wingie brought me here to see Bog. They brought her here to speak of something she witnessed. If only I knew what Bog was after, I might have something to act upon. What can I do?”

“We have to hope she holds the piece we lack,” Caleb said in a soft voice, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Hold on to patience and have hope. It is all Wind has had to survive.”

“Is that all?” She looked back at him. The Light’s question was genuine. Patience was a skill of the spirit. It required time she was unsure they had that right now. Hope was also a spiritual idea. It sprang from faith, for without it, hope was easily snuffed out. There was faith in the surrounding Winds that surpassed any she possessed.

“Is it enough?”

“Yes,” Caleb said with resolve. “As a boy, my father said Wind had not lost the most in the Great War. We learned the most patience of any province in Aurora. Rebuilding our entire country after suffering such devastation, Wind will rise again. We only need to wait for the chance to appear. I believe the time is coming, but for now, I will watch and wait.”

“… Come …” Both Light and Wind looked back at the Wingie. She was muttering in her sleep. Her voice was low and weak, but she tried to speak, regardless.

“Elder Wingie, please,” Willow reached a hand to touch the small shoulder, “you must rest. We will hear you when your strength returns.”

“Yishmael,” Caleb spoke hopefully to his reserve, “it’s working. Keep at it.”

“Do … not …” the old woman kept speaking. Her brow furrowed as she continued, “… come ….”

“Who?” The warden leaned down closer to the Wingie. His eyes were gaping. Was this what Yonah had told him about? The talking to someone who was not there?

“Who should not come?”

“Warden,” Willow rebuked him, “she is no condition for an interrogation.”

“Yonah said Bog claimed she had lost her mind. It was as if she were speaking to someone who was not there. This could be what we needed to know, but she has little time.”

“Caleb!”

“Please, Lady Willow,” he looked back at her as he pleaded. His eyes had sparks of hope in them.

She paused. Where had his strength come from? When had she become the one who needed hope? She had only moments ago encouraged him to reach beyond his fear. He was asking her to make the same gamble.

“Do … not … come … child.”

“What child, elder?” Willow asked. Looking down at the Wingie, she tried to ground herself once more. Where was the courage of her rank? This was no time to hesitate.

“… Do … not … come ….”

“She must be trying to warn someone, but who?” Caleb grabbed his black locks with frustration. “Who are you protecting? Who are you trying to keep Bog from finding? Please let it not be lost to the winds!”

“Samuel.”

“Yishmael?” Willow asked the entranced young man, still at work healing.

“He is called Samuel.” The voice did not seem to be coming from the reserve, despite his lips moving. It sounded like an echo from somewhere faraway.

“The child she speaks of, why does she wish to protect him so?” It occurred to Willow that the Wingie could have been in touch with her mystic roots when she was speaking to someone apart from Bog. Another Wingie perhaps? Who better to know than another Wingie?

“Destiny carries him on a path that must not be stilled. He follows his spirit to protect what he wills.”

“Stilled? Do you mean by Bog?” Willow and Caleb looked at one another. Willow had spoken what he had been thinking. Whoever this child was, she feared Bog destroying him.

“He has come here. He is within the city.”

“How can I find this child?” Caleb asked. As warden of the capitol, he commanded all of Wind’s forces within the city. He could take the child into protective custody, removing him from Bog’s grasp. What was two acts of treason in one day?

“The child with the eyes of a sword cuts through the spirit with but a glance.”

“What?” Caleb froze as the description sunk in. He should have recognized the name. The boy who was with Captain Celestial was named Samuel.

“What is the matter?” Willow turned her concern to him now. He looked as if he had just seen a spirit. “Warden, speak to me.”

“I have seen this child … with eyes that pierce through you …. He said his name was Samuel.”

“Where is he? We must bring him here! Now!”

“He is already here, my lady.” Caleb looked back at her, still stunned by his realization. “They captured him with Captain Celestial and another companion … and I had them taken to a cell.”

“Go fetch him!” Willow felt her old self return to her. “Bring him here! He must not reach Bog!”

“Of course, Lady Willow,” Caleb replied, scrambling to his feet in his daze. The Wind soldier went for the door. He was uncertain if he felt fear or thrill rushing through his veins as he made his way out of the holding cell. He knew he was more alive than he had been in some time.

“We will find Samuel, Elder Wingie. We will keep him safe,” Willow spoke soothingly, stroking the back of the woman’s hand.

“Can you keep him from the dark?”

Willow gaped back at the reserve who stopped talking after that. A chill ran through her body at that word. She could not deny her anxiety attached to it. Every Light feared Darkness, but what did he mean by that question? Was the one seeking Samuel not Bog?

Celestial stared at the flat, stone ceiling. Her arms shackled against the wall above her left a limited view. Heaven used the same restraints for prisoners of significant strength. She was unsure if she felt honored or not to be in them now. At least, she had proven to be a formidable opponent.

Seraph was lying on some straw and cloth in the far corner of the cell. His whimpering had quieted mostly, hopefully a sign of relief. A reserve had brought him a steaming bowl earlier, along with some water, a cloth to cleanse the blood off his legs, and fresh clothes. He had downed it as if parched with thirst. The captain imagined it was zingiber. It was agonizing to listen to the Wind moan and cry this way. If she could have gotten the root herself, none of this would have happened.

“Celestial,” Seraph’s voice sounded exhausted. She did not blame him after the symptoms she had witnessed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said flatly. “You should be resting. You can sleep over there. I would dislocate my shoulders if my posture slouched.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? Go to sleep.”

“I can’t …. It hurts too much.”

“Then quit talking,” the soldier groaned. “I doubt pushing yourself is helping.” She wished he would not speak. It saturated his weariness in pain and sadness for her. She did not want to deal with that right now.

“If I had kept track of the days, I would have prepared for this.”

“Seraph, don’t talk that way. It won’t fix or solve anything.”

“I hate this.”

“What now?” Celestial tried to look around her arm to see what the Wind was doing. It sounded as if he were moving. “Seraph, what are you doing?”

“I hate this body!” His voice sounded upset. He was trying to sit up. “I hate waking up … and seeing these … things on my chest! I hate having to wear women’s clothing! I hate this stupid day every month! I hate that I can’t be who I want to be!”

“You sure hate a great deal,” she could not help saying it. If she were back in Heaven with her troops, she would have called someone who talked that way a whiner. The captain would have put them through intense training to numb that urge. There was no place in this world for whining.

Seraph, though, had something to complain about. She still struggled to understand how a person could have breasts, a penis, and a voice like that. The Light had met people who dressed or viewed themselves as the opposite gender, but it still seemed physically impossible to be born both at once. If it scrambled her mind, she could not imagine what Seraph had gone through living in that body.

Her mind recalled the Wind soldier who had groped him their first time in the capitol. Seraph had flinched. He saw himself as a man, but how did he see his intimate self? Not that she had given it consideration herself. Celestial wondered if that meant he did not seek men. The way Seraph and Samuel clung to one another had birthed ideas, but that night, Seraph did not seem to want a man to touch him. Did that mean he longed for a woman?

“I … I hate this body,” Seraph spoke up once he propped himself upright. “But … I also fear it.”

“Why fear it?”

“I don’t understand it,” the Wind said as his voice cracked. “It’s almost as if it wants to work against me. I try to build my strength up, but no matter how strong I am, I’m helpless against it. When I try to cope with the challenges I face, a new one presents itself. On my first Red Day, I thought I was dying, but I was too afraid to tell my family. I hid in the vineyard. I felt cursed. I wished that I could wake up one day and this would all be a bad dream.”

Silence fell as Seraph started to cry again, leaning his face toward the wall. Celestial was at a loss for a response. Why had he confided in her? Perhaps he was rambling from the pain. Soldiers often did that to cope with pain. Still, he sounded as if he were trying to convey something to her. She had been harsh with him when she learned the truth. What reason would he have to reach out to her?

“Am I being punished, Celestial? Is it because I’m a taboo god? I don’t understand why … nothing ever works out for me ….”

“It could be worse,” the captain said, leaning as far forward as she could to look at him. “We aren’t standing trial. The warden seems to empathize with us because your condition was so dire. You’ve been a greater asset than I.”

“I still feel useless,” Seraph mumbled. He felt less distressed, finding encouragement in her words. There was still something gnawing at his nerves. “I envy you and Samuel. I wish I didn’t have to be both a man and a woman.”

“How exactly does that work, anyway?” Celestial figured if he was sharing, he might as well answer questions instead of mope. “Do you have a phallus? I don’t know that those should bleed.”

“Yes … I have one,” Seraph felt embarrassed saying that. Her comment about where he bled from made his face turn further into the wall. How could he say that to her? “I don’t bleed from there. I told you … I’m both ….”

His voice trailed off at the sound of yelling on the other side of the cell door. Both glanced up in surprise. What was going on out there? The door opened, revealing Bog’s face. He was sneering wickedly at the other Light in front of him. Celestial ground her teeth, regretting her words.

“Things just got worse, didn’t they?” Seraph sighed heavily. He went back to feeling like a jinx.

“I never could console people,” she replied with a grunt.

“Captain Celestial,” Bog said with a hiss, “oh, fortune must either love or hate me to deliver you twice. Now, I find you brought friends along. I must meet them.”

“What do you want, Bog? I don’t have time to play with you. The warden and I have much to discuss.”

“Oh, he won’t be interrogating you,” the viceroy said as his lip twitched, “I will.”

Seraph shuddered from where he sat, leaning against the wall. Not Bog. Seraph remembered the last time he had met the viceroy. It had not been the first time someone had tried to force themselves on him, but Bog’s experience had shaken him more than any other time. Perhaps it was because his life had been on the line. Whatever the reason, he tried pushing himself further into the corner as if he could hide.

“Leave us,” Bog barked at the two guards outside. He was brimming with frustration right now. Everything was falling apart around him. Namas was catching on to his messy trail. Willow was demanding answers about that Wingie woman. It was only a matter of time before he drowned in his own maelstrom. If he were going out, he wanted to vent his aggression somewhere. Nothing else could go wrong when his life was in shambles.

“I said leave us! Now!”

“But sire, Main Rebecca told us to wait for her on Warden Caleb’s commands. There’s a woman recovering inside. The warden wanted her to calm down more before questioning them.”

“I spoke with Main Rebecca already, you pathetic simpleton,” the viceroy growled back at the reserve. Bearing clenched teeth in the soldier’s face, he snarled, “Who do you think informed me where to find these two?! Do not waste my time with your limited ability to understand, boy! Now leave! Both of you!”

“Yes, sire.”

The Wind soldiers left. Once they rounded the corner, one slowed down, grabbing the other’s arm. They stood there a moment, wondering what to do next.

“This is wrong, Yoav.”

“I know … but what can we do? We need the warden, Machau. We could make more trouble if we do something right now.” The reserve looked down the hallway. Who could they turn to if things got that out of control?

“Wait … is that Head Cain? Wave him over here!”

Cain had been pondering why that woman seemed so familiar. He had considered going to ask her himself. That was when he saw two reserves trying to wave him their way. This did not look good. Were those the two left to watch the detainees?

“What’s wrong?” Cain said as he jogged toward them. “Machau? Yoav? Why aren’t you at your assigned post?”

“It’s Bog,” Machau had no love for the viceroy with that tone, but he knew how seriously Cain took his position. “He told Yoav and me to leave him with them. I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but I heard he’s going dim. Why would he want to be alone with those women? You know how he is.”

“The one on her Red Day is still not moving about much,” Yoav mumbled. The tongue-lashing Bog gave him frayed his nerves. “I didn’t know what to do, head. I know it’s against orders to abandon a post. Bog just … he looks furious.”

“Like he knew them?” Cain asked in a thoughtful voice. Things were clearing up now. Celestial was protective of that other woman. Just what was it about her?

“What are you thinking, head?” Machau asked cautiously.

“I’ve met that woman before, but I don’t know if … Warden?”

All three looked up to see Caleb running from the smaller holding cells. He looked winded. That was never a good sign on a Wind. They ran over to him. Cain reached him first.

“Warden, what’s wrong? You look troubled? Has something happened?”

“Cain … where are the detainees you brought in today?” the warden gasped anxiously. His mind was still wrapping around the revelation he had just learned. Not to mention, he had just been in a divine presence.

“They took them to one of the larger holding cells. We were hoping to ask you about that.” Cain looked over his superior. “Are you all right?”

“A dire situation has arisen … I need to find one of them. Where are they now? Show me.”

“That’s part of the problem, sir,” Yoav said grimly.

“Bog ordered us to leave him alone with them in their holding cell,” Machau cut to the point. “Is it true he’s gone dim, sir? He looked it a moment ago when he got in Yoav’s face.”

“Where is that cell?” Caleb found his grounding. Was Bog trying to get rid of Celestial or the boy? Dimness fit the part. “He has already assaulted a witness. He might intend to do the same to them. We must hurry.”

Machau did not waste time, heading back down the hallway with his pole ready to strike. Yoav and Cain stayed closer to Caleb as they ran for the cell. They could hear angry protests the closer they drew. Machau was banging on the door.

“Hang on!” he called through the door. Looking back at the other three, he cursed, “The shadow blocked the door from the inside! We need to get in from the outer wall! A window! Anything!”

“I remember now,” Cain gaped at the door. The large woman from the night Celestial had attacked was the one he had helped to this cell. Celestial had not been attacking the viceroy that night. She was trying to rescue that woman, a woman he had groped to see if she was a better choice. His eagerness to please the viceroy may well may have started this mess. “That woman is the one Bog said was a monster the night Captain Celestial struck almost a month ago. They aren’t rebels. They’re just trying to protect one another.”

“Brilliant!” Machau jeered as he rushed off for the exit.

“We’re coming, captain!” Caleb called before rushing after the reserve. Who designed the only exit be the entrance in the holding cells?

“Hurry! Please!” Celestial cried out as soon as she heard Caleb’s voice. “Bog, release Seraph, you dim Light! Do you have any idea who you are assaulting?!”

“Actually,” Bog’s voice moaned back at her, “I think my monster likes it. Didn’t I tell you it wouldn’t be so bad?”

Seraph trembled as the viceroy held his head back against the wall. The slender hand pressing against his jaw held his mouth closed, straining his neck. Bog had pulled the wrap open to grope his large chest. Seraph was so overwhelmed by pain and fear that his body stopped responding to him. He wanted nothing more than to throw the pervert across the room, but even his magic had stilled. His dilated eyes gaped at Bog’s twisted face as he clawed at the hand gripping his neck.

“Seraph! You have to throw him off!”

“Ah!” Bog grunted, feeling something swell against his leg. “You little beast! You really are enjoying yourself!” Releasing Seraph’s jaw, the god gasped as Bog shoved him over to his face. Latching on once again, the Light pulled the lower half of Seraph’s wrap open.

“You cursed shadow! Leave him alone!” Celestial could only see Bog from her limited view. The sounds told her that Seraph was about to come to the harm she had stormed this mansion to prevent. The soldier pulled at her shackles as if her struggle could free her to save him. “Seraph! You have to fight!”

“I can’t,” the Wind whimpered as tears fell down his cheeks. “The pain … has weakened … me.” He cried out when Bog grabbed his bare thigh, terrified of what was coming.

“That’s it,” Bog laughed. “Now where were we?”

“No! Please … don’t do this!” Seraph cried as he felt the hand grab between his legs.

“Seraph!” Celestial screamed.

“I don’t care anymore!” The viceroy yelled down at the Wind in a raspy voice. “I’ve lost everything! Ever since you came to my chamber, everything has gone wrong! You cursed me! I don’t care what happens now! I’ll make you pay, monster! Do you hear me?!”

Seraph silenced. He almost stopped breathing, listening to the screaming in his ears. The thin hand groped violently, making his whole body shake. Why? Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve this? He could not move. Pain or terror paralyzed him as he lay on his face, pinned against the straw. Bog paused, retracting for a moment.

“Two …?” He muttered as he sat back to look at his hand. There was blood on the pallid skin from where he had found his discovery. “Yet you bleed from only one … a woman and a man?”

“It’s called intersexed, dim Light!” Celestial barked back as Bog tried to wrap his head around what he had just found. “Seraph, remember what Samuel said?! You’re normal! Don’t let him take away the man you are! Samuel knows you are one! I know it! Fight back!”

The Wind glanced toward her from where Bog had pinned him. His mind was buzzing. He could barely focus. Bog must have aggravated his pain. What he could do? Bog was lost in his own mind, yet he could not push his own body up to crawl away.

“Celestial … I can’t move … everything hurts again. ”

“Listen,” she grunted. “I’m trapped; I can’t get to you. If you can get me loose, I can deal with Bog. I need you to give me something, though. Hurry before he comes back around.”

“Celestial … do you believe … like Samuel?” Seraph looked back at her, forgetting everything else for a moment. He needed to hear her say it. “Do you … believe in … me?”

A pit in her chest formed as the words sank in. What did she believe in? She lost faith in so many things. It was not until she found Lord Zion’s sword that she felt moved by something. She had always felt it was Lord Zion, calling her to return his blade. Now, she realized it was less likely the Wind guardian. Ever since that moment in the center of Mt. Aion, she had felt the pull stronger than ever. It had pulled her toward Samuel and Seraph. Destiny, she had faith in that, but as far as people ….

“Yes,” her voice was distant as she stared at the door ahead of her. “All these years, I was chasing Lord Zion. I took leave to search every corner of Western Wind, hoping to deliver to him his weapon. It wasn’t until I met you in that bazaar that I felt I had found what I was looking for. Seraph, Lord Zion would be proud of his stand-in. I believe you can fulfill the prophecy as a god of Wind.”

Reaching for her, Seraph tried to focus. Her words meant so much. Wind was stirring in him, faintly. He waited until he could feel enough built up to release it. Unfortunately, Bog blinked out of his daze. The Light glared at Seraph’s hopeful expression, pressing his body against the Wind’s back. A jolt shot through the young god, sending a gust of wind at the soldier. It was short but strong, striking where the shackles met the wall.

Celestial cried out in shock as chunks of wall flew around. She fell to her knees, trying to collect herself. The binding still held fast to her wrists along with part of the wall. Standing, she rushed Bog, swinging her shackles at the leech’s head. Bog did not make a sound as he rolled away, stunned. More of the wall broke away with the strike, but she was still stiffly bound.

Kneeling behind Bog, Celestial rolled Seraph against her. Before he even had time to say anything, she reached under his wrap for his lower belly. Her cool hands on his bare stomach made him seethe, but when he heard her voice singing softly, he looked up at her face in awe.

Again, a song without words. It sounded so sorrowful. He almost cried. A warmth swept over his body. This was the healing spell she had used before. He could see a glowing beneath her closed lids. The pain was fading away.

“No!” The viceroy gasped from where he had landed. The glow had transfixed him with fear. “No … she can’t … she can’t do that. Celestial cannot use magic. This can’t be.”

“It is true my magic waned away during my training as a cadet,” the woman looked back at the terrified man as she spoke ever so slowly. Her eyes were ablaze, just as the day Seraph had drawn everyone to the center of Mt. Aion. “It would seem as of late it has been returning, though ….”

The effect of her voice trailing off along with her stance over the young god forced Bog to jump. He did not stand up properly at first, but he stumbled his way toward the door, staring back at her in terror. The dim Light clawed at the blockade he had made, desperate to escape. He had no idea what beings they were, but he felt as if he could not be in their presence. Finally, he forced the door open and fled, unsure of where he could be safe anymore.

“Celestial … that was … amazing.”

“You shouldn’t thank me yet,” the Light said, trying to blink away the glow in her eyes. “The spell was weak. The pain will return in a while. We should hurry.”

“What is strong compared to that?” Seraph sat up, gawking stupidly back at her as he straightened his wraps.

“If you ever meet a true Angel, you will see the difference,” she sighed, leaning back against the wall. Her hands were shaking in her lap. She could not hide them this time. “I am no Angel.”

“You’re wrong.” The shackles cracked open as the god forced wind inside the locks. He could not bring himself to look at her in the eye, but he was feeling brave enough to speak, taking her trembling hands in his. “I don’t think you’re anything other than an Angel ….”

Celestial stared back at the Wind, considering a response. The god was not making a joke. She rose a white brow at him. What was he talking about? He was worse than Samuel with making sense. Just when she was ready to fire back a remark, the wall that had bound her cracked. They both turned to stare as a chunk fell that let in a stream of daylight, showing all the dust in the air.

“Are you both all right?” That was Machau’s voice. What had he done to crack a wall as thick as that? “Hey! Captain Celestial, you’re still alive?”

“You pack quite a punch, reserve,” she replied wearily. That would have been her back had Seraph not freed her from the wall, or had Seraph weakened it enough to make an opening? Swallowing a hard lump in her throat, she hoped he never aimed at her directly like that.

“Stand back,” Seraph spoke in his true voice, if distant. He helped Celestial to her feet. Draping her arm over his shoulders, they walked toward the wall. “I’m going to break the wall open.”

“Who’s there?” Caleb asked sternly. This voice was new. Where was Bog?

“My name is Seraph. If you do not clear the area, you will get hurt.”

Celestial felt the surrounding air thicken. Her unseen eyes darted around to try seeing what was happening. Wind kicked up from behind them, rushing by them so quickly that it swept the Light’s feet out from beneath her. If Seraph had not had his hand around her waist, she knew she would have flown into the wall. The gust was brief, but it was enough to force the crack to give way, opening a hole just large enough for Seraph to emerge with a stunned Celestial.

“Weren’t you ….” Yoav gaped back as he looked Seraph over from head to toe.

“No, I am still on my day, but she healed me enough to open the wall up.”

“That was powerful wind magic,” the warden said breathlessly. He could barely believe what he had witnessed. “Are you an immortal?”

“I am a god,” Seraph replied, looking back at Caleb calmly. Celestial looked up at his face, concerned. He sounded like he was slipping into wind again.

“Seraph,” she scolded as her nerves permitted, “the wind is trying to take over again. You can’t let it.”

“No, this time is different. I can feel it,” he said as he jumped skyward. “The wind’s will and mine are the same.”

Celestial gasped sharply. She did not enjoy the sudden flying experiences. He needed to warn her beforehand. They did not go high, thankfully. That was when she heard the whistles, just like when they had been discovered.

“What’s happening?”

“Wind is reclaiming its land,” Seraph said in a calm voice. His face was blank as he looked at the main gate into the viceroy’s mansion. “We should retrieve our weapons. I sense a larger threat than Bog is here.”

“Isn’t Bog the problem, though?”

“No, whatever it is, the wind wants it. I will need Cherub to keep from losing myself,” his voice sounded wary as he spoke. “I can already feel similar emotions to when my powers awakened.”

“All right.” Celestial thought about his concerns. It sounded as if a god needed to properly channel their power or their raw nature would consume them. She wondered if Lord Zion had used his sword for such a purpose. She did not think other gods did that, but they might require a different catalyst than a weapon. If that were the case for Wind gods though, the soldier doubted she could ever wield the blade. It was not meant for her.