Ride, Kait, Ride

They were coming.

The gob-horse pounded her hooves into the dirt. She nipped at her matted yellow coat. Bristled in her saddle. She was short, ugly, and mean-tempered. And being forced to take a break by her Rider was not making her any more congenial.

Faster, she snorted. They had to move faster. Ignore the heaving of her lungs, and the way her mouth lolled open. There was no need to quench her thirst, or to rest bones that creaked in the midday sun.

They were coming.

But the Rider was having none of it. She readjusted the saddle, took a swig from her canteen, and waited. Waited for the ache in her chest to subside. For her mouth to stop tasting of blood for half a second. Some damn rest to maybe, just maybe let herself feel halfway normal.

Meanwhile her training kicked in. Keep one eye behind you. The enemy will not strike boldly when they can sneak in silence. Hand on your knife, but if you aren’t about to use it, don’t unsheathe it. Let your hands dry. And breathe, always remember that another breath is another life that you might not have had before.

Damn Harsk. Always a voice in her head, even when she would rather he wasn’t.

That was the price of being a Rider. Signing on with Harsk’s Ride meant you were trained for one thing. Protect the country, protect the world from the worst that existence had to offer. Kill every demon that crawled out of the Pit, or send them back packing.

Except for her. Kait was supposed to be special.

She slicked her hair back, sweat on her brow. No braid, not anymore. After a long winter, it was cut short. The white hair curled around her ears, her blue skin, her horns.

Kait wanted to rest. Let the sweat dry out of her riding leathers. Maybe give Clari-Ann a chance to have a real breather, though the horse would never admit the need. Let her own body maybe feel the pangs of hunger or exhaustion that threatened to creep into her bones.

But instead, she could already hear the beats. Different than other horses, with scratches from clawed feet at the foreleg instead of hooves. A slight smell of sulfur that Clari-Ann growled at. A high-pitched scream echoing across the plains.

They were coming.

This was where Kait had to fight her training. Every bit of Harsk in her demanded that she turn and fight. Pick your battle ground, set your weapons at your side, and take them down. Death may be certain, but the Pit would echo with terror from those damned back to its depths.

Harsk only ran when there was no hope of even a Pyrrhic victory. And damn the poor souls fool enough to join him.

Kait slung herself back onto Clari-Ann’s back. The gob-horse peeled back her lips in a snarl, and nudged the sword hanging from the pommel.

“Not now, Clari,” Kait muttered. “From last count it was twenty. I don’t plan on us dying today.”

She clicked her tongue once, and the horse tore off down the plains. Further west, into the sunset.

Behind her, they did not have to worry about tiring. Scaled or furred limbs that were built from the Pit did not care about such things as exhaustion. Their eyes did not grow weary. And their hunger would soon be sated. If not upon Clari-Ann’s flesh, then perhaps the very mounts they rode.

They tore up into view, a whoop and a holler as they caught sight of her at last. Three solid months of rumors, half-truths, tortured lies and well-meaning fictions had finally paid off. They saw that gods-forsaken horse, and the half breed whelp racing across. They had her.

Kait Demonborn ignored the screams, and kept Clari-Ann moving forward. She might not be the fastest horse on the plains, but she had the most stamina. They had been tracked all over the Plains, and even with no sleep for the last two days, Clari’s legs had barely started to quiver. They were fine.

A blast of fire sailed into the sky. Kait cursed, and swerved right. Sulfurous flames licked, and caught on the grasslands. The yellow-green light scorched on her face, before Clari-Ann outraced the blaze. Damn it, these demons knew magic.

One of the demons, a scaled one draped in robes, licked out a spell with an elongated tongue. A ball of yellowed flame appeared in his hand, and he sailed it deep into the air. The flames passed harmlessly by.

“Have to do better than that!” Kait called out. She kicked again, and Clari-Ann found a new burst of speed, racing off into the growing darkness.

“Get her!” The robed demon shouted. Two at his side drew blood from their mounts’ flanks as they strove to comply.

One demon ran on foot. A small thing, stupid. It raced ahead of its compatriots, easily outpacing allies to chase down its prey. Fangs extended out of its distended mouth, matching the claws that raked the ground. It would hold the glory. It would make the kill.

Clari-Ann snorted, and Kait tensed. The speeding thing ran alongside the two, just out of reach of the gob-horse’s hooves. It tensed to leap, ready to make the strike. With a howl it jumped, claws outstretched.

Kait leaned back, and grabbed the demon by the throat. Its windpipe shuddered, and snapped under her grip. Kait’s eyes narrowed, looking at the thing. Its life quickly flowed through her fingers. The eyes glared at her, still not comprehending its own death. A knife through the eye and straight to the brain finally ended its thrashings.

Clari-Ann never broke stride.

Kait tossed the corpse to the side, and grimaced. One of the wild swings had glanced off her arm, cutting deep. She reached into her saddle bag, and grasped a bandage. Tied off the wound, and tried to get the skin to start to seal over the wound. Couldn’t even slow down to field dress the damn thing. Had to keep moving.

Why did they chase her? She had no idea. Certainly, demons had reason to hate Kait Demonborn. The half-breed who hunted down her own kind. Allied with the hated Harsk, she took pleasure in thwarting their infernal plans.

But this seemed to go beyond mere hatred. They were focused, driven. They must have known that Kait was alone. Her and her horse, riding through the Midwest. She did not turn South to the marine kingdoms around the Gulf. Neither did she turn towards the Callgar baronies in the North. Instead, she kept moving west, avoiding the small towns that populated this empty range.

They had her. They knew it, and so did she. It was only a matter of time as to when.

All throughout the day they tried to run her down. But any who could come close soon paid for it with their lives. The robed one would send his flames, but he was either unwilling or unable to properly aim them.

“She is getting away,” one of the demons grumbled. A lumbering brute, he was barely able to sit astride his mount. As it was, he caused no small amount of discomfort.

“She is not,” the robed one said. “Thine eyes are faulty.”

“Thine?” The brute asked. “When did you last reach the sunlight?”

The robed one did not answer. “We shall catch her. In due course.”

“Not with that blasted horse. It is making a mockery of…these.” He swiped at his own mount. It yelped, and bucked. The demon held on, painfully. The screams helped center him. “Can we not at least rid ourselves of the horse?”

“I cannot,” The leader mumbled. “There is a protection on the steed, as well as the Rider.” Harsk must have favored this girl with some magics, unnatural though she was. That, or some fickle deity had decided now to intervene.

“Well, we need to catch her, and soon.” The brute said.

“And why is that, lowly one?” The robed leader had had enough with this dissension and questioning. They were under orders, and these lower beings had best learn their place.

The brute shrugged, and pointed. “Because I think she is heading to that.”

That? The leader looked forward, trying to discover the truth. But the girl was heading towards the horizon, and the setting sun. What was “that?”

But wait. The horizon was not disappearing. It was growing, becoming solid. Shadows stretched forth, beckoning the Rider and her predators onward. It was not a horizon, but a wall.

The leader scoffed. How could such a wall exist? One that extended beyond even demonic eyes in either direction. Twenty feet tall, made of solid stone…this had to be some sort of illusion.

“Disregard, and move forward,” The robed leader said. “It is some trick.”

The brute, however, stopped. “That isn’t a trick,” he muttered. “We need to turn back.”

“Petty illusions, by some minor spellcaster,” The robed demon insisted.

“No, it’s not, you fool.” The subordinate stopped, and dismounted. “Are you so dense that you don’t even know the walls of Texas?”

“Texas?” The leader stopped. “What is that?”

At the mention of Texas, the other demons slowed, and stopped. A few looked around, expecting some of the famed warriors to appear at any moment.

“Texas is a psychotic place,” The demon said. “All they want to do is fight, and kill. Fiercely loyal to the state, mindless in its defense. Millions of mortals, trained from birth for war, and you want us to go and cross into their territory.”

The leader pointed to Kait, even as the Rider kept moving forwards. She crossed the shadows, ignoring any change in the light.

“Our prey is about to be trapped between our claws and that mound of stone,” He hissed. “And you, you supposedly elite warriors, are scared of mortals?”

“I am,” The brute muttered.

The leader snapped his scaled claws, and set him ablaze. “Insolent cur.”

The brute screamed, and lunged towards the leader. He was ash before he could even singe the robes. The leader sighed, and did a head count. Fifteen, including himself.

“We are blessed with purpose, you worms.” His eyes narrowed. “Turn tail and run now, and you shall run for all eternity. Our master shall see to that.”

That spurred the demons on. They wanted to kill their slave driver, oh, yes. They wanted to rend this cruel master that was spawned with foul magics that were so often turned upon them as their enemies. But he was a representative of their master, and none would risk his wrath.

They marched towards the shadows. By now, Kait stood, twelve feet away from the wall. She was drinking from a water skein. Her sword was in one hand, the other outstretched for balance. Her knife was ready at her side, and her tail swished with anticipation. She knew that Texas would not be enough to dissuade them. She only hoped that she hadn’t been bluffing by moving towards the State. And that if she was right, they would not kill her as well.

Clari-Ann stood just apart from her Rider. She huffed heavily, blood on her muzzle. But Kait had removed the saddle and its contents, set them against the wall. Freed, and still angry, the horse wanted destruction of her own.

As they crossed the shadow, Kait straightened, and saluted.

“Foul creatures of the Pit!” She shouted. “I am Kait Demonborn, a Rider for Harsk. We stand in the shadow of Texas, in the dimming of the day. Disperse, and live for another day. Or I am going to knock your heads something awful before sending you back to where you belong.”

“Carzic’s Daughter,” The leader began. “We have words from your father.”

Kait stiffened, and her salute wavered.

“Return to your liege. Swear fealty to him. Become his right hand. And your dalliances with the humans shall be forgiven.”

“Go suck on a spike!” Kait shouted. “You tell that Pit bastard I’m right here, and armed! He’s not getting me.”

“He shall,” The leader intoned. “One way or another.”

“Last chance, demon.” Kait warned. “Turn back, or suffer.”

“You have stolen mine own words, child.” He turned to his pack, and nodded. “Do not be gentle.”

The demons howled towards Kait, mounts scrambling to get there first. Kait whistled, and Clari-Ann tore ahead in response. Dirt and sod scraped up by hooves. She barreled into one of the mounts, and a second. The three horse-creatures tangled up in a mess of hooves and anger. Clari-Ann screamed as much as the mounts, though hers seemed to be more in triumph.

A demon rushed towards Kait. She smiled, suddenly relaxed. Harsk’s voice was there, a biting, gravelly tone sitting on the back of her mind. Don’t just kill, incapacitate. A demon doesn’t become less dangerous after it loses its head. The feet, the hands, tail. There, girl, those fangs that were trying to tear through your jacket. Do you see why I insisted it be reinforced?

Kait laughed as she cut through one demon. Laughed all the harder when one slipped past her guard and sank his claws into her side. He was there. That damnable bastard was still by her side. Untold leagues, and more months than she could consider, and she could see him right behind her.

Fine, so be it. The demons were closing in, intent. It wouldn’t be long now. They were not cautious, and bloodlust was settling on them. The fiends’ strikes were growing wilder, more insistent. Whatever plan their robed leader had for them would be ignored. Soon she would die.

Clari-Ann whinnied. She stamped her front hooves on another skull. The other mounts had fled in terror, finding something even more frightening than the Pit.

The gob-horse stampeded forward, ready to make the demons her next stain upon the ground. But the robed figure turned, and shouted in a guttural language. The ground shuddered between horse and robed figure, and the two were pushed backwards.

Clari-Ann moved forward. She struggled mightily at an unseen force. But try as she might, the horse could not get to her Rider. The robed figure held her at bay, and while his magics could not hurt her, they were enough to bar her path.

The horse screamed, defiant. She couldn’t leave, but she couldn’t help.

“Stay and watch, you wretched filth,” the figure rasped. “Watch your master fall.”

“I am no master, you robed turd,” Kait said. “I am a Rider, one with the most awful mount this side of creation.”

Kait grabbed a demon, and held her as a shield. She looked at Clari-Ann, eyes alight.

“She’s loud, and eats too much, and farts sulfur. Anyone else would try and skin her alive if they could find a knife brave enough to touch that foul thing called fur.

“She’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t have anyone else watch my last hours.”

Kait Demonborn held her sword aloft. “Long live the Riders! Long live Harsk, and may we live another day to rain down fire upon those who seek to prey upon us.”

She smirked. “Now bring it, your speckled tongues slick from licking my father’s backside.”

The leader lost all sense of reason. “Kill her!”

The Spellshots were trained on the demons in seconds. Target practice, really. The five men and women did not even have to crouch behind the lips of the walls as they trained their sights down below. Their spells rang out true, with considerations to air pressure, infernal body composition, and even the effect on the wildlife. As their miniscule amounts of magic tore through the bodies, setting their essences alight before sending them back to the Pit, the Texans could only wonder if they should have entered the fray a little sooner. It would have been much more fun to participate rather than watch.

Kait looked around in bewilderment. Where there once stood over a dozen demons, only the robed leader remained. He was missing a leg, and trying desperately to cough out a spell. But he must have been in too much pain, or perhaps some other reason. After a time he glared up at the wall, cursing it.

Kait squinted up towards the wall. Three Texans leaned against their battle staffs. Two men, one elf and the other human, one human woman. All three were smiling, looking down at her.

“You Kait Demonborn?” The elf asked.

“What was your first clue?” She asked.

“It’s a bit hard to see you all the way down there,” he replied. “I’d come down, but kind of tired killing all those guys for you.”

“I had it handled,” Kait muttered. “Besides, this ain’t Texas yet. Don’t you all have some rule about not helping anyone who isn’t Texan?”

The woman sighed. “That’s Harsk’s whelp, all right.”

Kait wanted to shoot something back, but couldn’t think of a good retort. When the robed thing coughed again, she remembered he existed. She and Clari-Ann wandered over to him.

Kait squatted down, and poked at the missing leg. “Does that hurt?”

The screaming answered the question.

“Whelp. Daughter of a whore. We had you. You are ours.”

Kait shrugged. “Probably would’ve been true, if you managed to catch up to me just a couple miles ago. Which is kind of why I’m here, and you’re missing both your henchmen and a leg to stand on.”

“Disrespectful half-breed. How dare you have the mighty one’s blood in your veins. He would not run, he would…”

“He would win, you idiot.” Kait pulled out her dagger and held it against his throat. “Carzic Mons, what I’ve read about him, only cares about the end result. You cheat, you backstab, you retreat. You do anything to win.”

She slit the demon’s throat. “Only a fool would follow such a man and not understand his tactics.”

Kait walked back to her saddle, and checked everything over. “Are you guys mad I dropped this garbage on your front door?” she called up to the wall.

The Texans shrugged. “It was fun, and easy training. You gonna let us collect the bounty on dead demons?”

Kait shrugged. “Way I figured it, you were the ones who killed ‘em, you get the bounties. Though…you are going to have to open the door to come on out.”

They stopped, and considered. Coming out was fine and well. But Kait seemed to be talking about letting someone in. Her and that thing that called itself a horse. The woman leaned down, and looked the Demonborn in the eye.

“Just what do you want in Redshot, girl?”

Kait looked up. “Looking for someone that was sheriff a decade or two ago. Name of Tweety. Ever heard of her?”

“Old sheriff Tweety?” The elf asked. “She’s still kicking around. One of her deputies has been running things for the last four years or so, but the old girl is still a force.”

Kait nodded. “Wanted to ask her a few things, then be on my way.”

The Texans conferred, suspicious. She was known, both as herself and as a Rider. Her deeds and the fact that she made it to Texas should have been enough. But Texans never just let something happen. It had to have a certain struggle, or else what was it worth?

“How about a test?” The elf asked. “Target practice, or even-”

A shot rang out. Kait dove to one side. The space her head was a moment before flashed lightning. The spell sparked into the ground, tearing up the dirt.

Clari-Ann reared on her hind legs, screaming. Kait was up on her feet. She crouched, knife in hand, looking around. The Texans wouldn’t have let someone come up behind her, would they?

Another shot rang out. Kait rolled away from a speck of ice embedding in the ground. There! Up on the wall, ten yards away from the others. Five other guardsmen, all human men, staffs pointed down at the ready.

The woman pulled out her Spellshot, furious. “Gerd, hold! You damn fool, we had this.”

“Right, Betsy.” Gerd sneered. “You had it. You and your toy Paul and that pretty little elf were having a grand old time talking with a demon.”

“That’s Harsk’s daughter, you fool!” Paul the human said. “Kait Demonborn, the legend.”

“A damn demon,” Gerd said. “Trying to force its way into our walls.” He looked back down at Kait, and smiled. “Well, thanks for giving me and my boys target practice.”

Kait stood up, and started walking towards her saddle.

“Hold it!” Gerd shouted. “I’ll shoot!”

Kait ignored him and kept walking.

“She made it here, you racist Klansmen,” The elf muttered. “She’s just as worthy of talking as you lily-livered…”

“I think y’all had a bit of an accident,” Gerd said. His men readied their own staffs. “Killed in the line of duty by another demon trying to get into our State. Well, we won’t have that, will we boys?”

Betsy snickered. “You always were a bit of an idiot, Gerd. Killing three guards on the Wall, just because we don’t hate demons.”

Gerd darkened. “Not just that. You never should have turned me down.”

Kait pulled the trigger on her crossbow. It thunked into Gerd’s shoulder, the dull noise muffled by the scream that came after. He dropped his weapon, clutching at his side.

Kait reloaded the crossbow. “I realize I just came in the fourth act of some epic history…” She cocked the weapon and pointed it up. “But I’m not willing to be a part of your quarrel. I just wanted to see Tweety.”

“Not happening, demon bitch!” One of Gerd’s men shouted. “We’re going to gut you like a fish!”

“No one’s doing anything!” The elf shouted, his staff up. “We’re going to calm down and talk rationally.”

Kait snorted. “Right. Or I could just leave.”

“Yeah, leave!” Gerd groaned. “I’ll find you later, Demonborn.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Kait arranged the saddle on Clari-Ann, secured it, and slung herself up on the horse. Damn it, she was so close. “Someone tell Tweety I said hello.”

“She’ll visit your grave,” Gerd promised.

“Yours first,” Kait muttered. She rode backwards, keeping the crossbow trained on the wall till they were out of range.

Then she collapsed. Clari-Ann tried to keep watch, but followed suit in seconds. There had been too much. Too much fighting, too much riding. Not enough food and sleep and peace.

They both welcomed darkness.

Kait awoke to fire.

She stumbled awake. Scrambling for her knife, eyes wide in fear. Too bright, she could barely see. Flames, in the middle of the night, terrible first light. But she could make out her enemy. One shape against the flames, standing over her. Kait lunged forward. The shape stepped out of the way, and grabbed the knife. It sighed, and tossed the knife away.

“Sneaking up on a Rider shouldn’t be this easy,” a woman’s voice came out of the shape’s mouth. “Something must be wrong.”

Kait blinked, trying to clear the exhaustion from her head. The images sharpened, becoming clearer. The shape was a dumpy sort of woman. Iron gray hair betrayed her advanced age, though her weathered hands did not shake. She leaned on one foot and then another, keeping her staff in her left hand and Kait’s knife in her right.

Her eyes twinkled, though. “You must be Kait Demonborn. Heard you were looking for me.”

Kait looked around. Clari-Ann was off to one side. Her face buried in a sack of turnips, the loud chomping breaking through the crackle of the fire.

Kait glared at her friend. Clari-Ann straightened, and looked back at the girl. She snorted, before returning to her meal.

Kait sighed, and looked back at the woman. “Sheriff Tweety?”

“Just Grandma Tweety now, darling.” Tweety said. “Redshot liked me enough, and gave me a nice long tenure as Sheriff. Even better, they let me get out before I was rolled into a wooden box.”

She looked into the fire, smiling. “It’s a good life, better than even my prime. I get to sit on my porch and drink tea. Same as before, but now I don’t need to deal with any fool that wants a damn question. I read, I get to keep a flower garden. Keep busy with a couple grandkids, and knocking sense into the new guys when they get a bit too swellheaded.”

“Sounds like a nice life.” Kait said.

“None of the responsibility, none of the power, and yet the respect of all these hard years remains.” Tweety shot a look at Kait. “Like when I get word of some half-breed demon gal knocking on the front door, bringing a whole mess of trouble and shouting my name.”

Kait nodded. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to hurt Texas.”

Tweety spat. “The only hurt Texas has is Gerd and his rabble of idiots trying to raise fire and brimstone down on your rear. That Klan and their humans-first policy, curse them all with syphilis and rot. Pardon my language, little dear.”

Kait’s eyebrow rose. No one had called her a little dear in…ever.

“But thanks to you, I had reason enough to confiscate their staffs and have them cool off in a hole somewhere while I figured out just what was going on.” Tweety said. She paused, and reconsidered. “I mean, the sheriff did, and I was happy to help this grand old town.”

“Right.”

“Now let me get a look at ya,” Tweety nodded, and smiled. “Last time I saw you…well, all I could see was that damn blanket Harsk had put over your head to try and keep you alive. How is the block of stone, anyways?”

Kait shrugged. She hadn’t heard from Harsk in months. Or any of the Ride for that matter. There was a job back East that apparently hadn’t gone too well, but no one had sent word, so she wasn’t sure if she should check in, or if she even wanted to.

“Uh-huh.” Tweety said. “You’re just as talkative as he is.”

Kait’s stomach rumbled. She grimaced, and clutched at her side.

“You got any food?” Kait said. She didn’t want to talk about Harsk. She needed to, but not right now.

Tweety nodded and handed a bag of jerky over. “Can’t touch the stuff anymore, but damn if people don’t stop giving it as a gift.”

Kait devoured the first ten pieces before coming up for air. Tweety kept watch, looking at Rider and gob-horse tear into their meals. They didn’t look up at the world, or even acknowledge its existence. There was food, and that was enough.

What must they have been through? Tweety couldn’t even hazard a guess. The two looked drawn, haggard. The rest and food seemed to be getting them to merely desperate and exhausted. Good and normal would only come after a week of rest.

“Dad’s looking for me,” Kait said.

“Dad?”

“You met my mother back in Redshot,” Kait said.

“Nettie, right?” Tweety said, and stopped. “Oh.”

Kait nodded. “A full Demon Lord, and he is looking for his spawn to help…I don’t know, take over the world or something. Sent his minions in search, and two weeks ago they found me.”

“Where?” Tweety asked.

“Near Callgar.” Kait thought about it. “Through the mountains. Across the great plains. Tried to lose ‘em around the Great Mud, and when I realized I couldn’t, turned southwest to here.”

That was thousands of miles of hard riding. Two weeks was not nearly enough time to traverse all through there to the State. Not unless you rode non-stop, chased by creatures that would not let you sleep, or eat, or give any sort of pause.

“Two weeks of endless riding,” Tweety said. “I can’t imagine.” The former sheriff considered, and frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why come here?”

“I didn’t, to start.” Kait said. “But each step I took had more demons. I figured there was one place that they hadn’t got to yet. Set my course, and tried to make it here in close to one piece.”

“Gods above and below, you’re lucky we didn’t shoot you where you stood.”

Kait shrugged. “Would have been cleaner.” She threw the remaining jerky into a saddlebag, and stood up. “Thanks for the food, sheriff.” A whistle brought Clari-Ann closer, and the two started preparing.

“You’re just going to leave?” Tweety asked.

“Can’t stay here.” Kait said. “Gerd and those like him would be looking to finish what dad’s bootlickers couldn’t.”

“And go where?”

“Don’t know,” Kait said. she tried not to show the grit in her teeth.

“But maybe we could work something out.”

“There’s nothing to work out!” Kait shouted. “I am going to be hunted across the plains, Tweety. Once people know that a Demon Lord is looking for me, I won’t be able to help anyone. They’ll run screaming, either for the hills or for a spellcaster. That means no work, and no reputation to maybe help us not get plugged full of holes.”

Kait sighed, and pat a crystal statue. It was of a girl, bent down in prayer. Tweety had never seen anything so fine. It seemed like the crystal was alive, breathing.

“I have promises to keep,” Kait said. “And a life to live. If not here, then elsewhere.”

Tweety spat. “This is wretched. A dog’s turd. You acted like a true Texan, and we’ve had our fair share of unusual folk in the wall. You should be welcome.”

“But I’m not.” Kait sighed. “I’m half-demon, and worse, I’m from Harsk. I wouldn’t be welcome, and you know it.”

Tweety’s silence was answer enough.

Kait finished putting the saddle on Clari-Ann. She swung up onto the horse, and looked up. Found the North Star, and reoriented herself.

“Where you headed?” Tweety asked.

“Forward.” Kait said. “Always forward.”

She smiled. “You’re better than Harsk said, Tweety. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m all right,” Tweety said. “You’re better.”

Kait clicked her tongue, and the mount moved forward. “Maybe, but who cares?”

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