Yara approached a crossroads near a set of farmsteads. From what she could tell there were two groups of men in heated argument, with a tall man standing between them attempting to mediate the debate. As she came closer she caught more and more of the conversation.

  '...keep your fucking dogs in check!' one party shouted.

  'Mine?' the patriarch of the other scoffed, 'I don't even have any dogs!'

  'How'd you explain MY MANGLED COW IN YOUR FIELD THEN!?'

  'You think dogs can do that? Daft cunt,'

  'Gentlemen, gentlemen, would you both settle down,' the man standing between them said, there was an exhausted expression on his slender, pale face and he spoke with an accent unlike anyone else there. His eyes caught Yara's for a second, before they darted to the poorly covered crested barding. She took notice of this and wanted to move on before he could call out to her, to avoid getting involved, however unfortunately she was too late.

  'Knight of Ash, your attention please,' the mediator said, his accent was breathy, like he spoke with his whole mouth, 'these here gentlemen have a dispute I've agreed to settle, though I can't seem to make any headway.'

  'Not sure if I'd be any help,' Yara replied, 'not without context, anyhow.'

  'This here turdshagger stole one of my cows and had it butchered in his field.'

  'Why in the Vigil's name would I go out in the middle of the night, steal a cow, and then leave it to rot on a frozen patch of dust?'

  'You-.'

  'Right, okay,' Yara interrupted them and sighed, 'I'll see what I can do, no promises,’ she got down from her horse, 'where's that cow then?'

  After being pointed to the carcass she'd begun her investigation. Out of the many different ways that this job grossed her out, doing autopsies was most certainly up there as the worst. The cow's carcass was a mess to look at to say the least. How anyone had discovered what it used to be was beyond her. It was just a loosely held-together pile of bones and flesh. First thing Yara noticed was the awful stench of rotting cow, which she had to beat back by covering her face with some cloth. The smell came from what remained of the abdomen. One of its stomachs had been punctured several times in multiple places. Its once warm blood had already stopped flowing and now the large splatter stained the near pristine and fresh snow. It was dark, typical for coagulated blood. The size of the stain and the multiple fractures in the animal's bones let her know that it fell from quite high up. The claw marks left on the poor animal's body weren't the usual number, normally wyverns would have three toes on each foot, with a dew claw hanging from their ankle. Here however there were marks showing that the dragon in question had four completely functional digits with a large talon at the end of each.

  'I hope you were already dead by that point,' muttered Yara.

  'Chances are she wasn't,' the voice of the mediator came from behind her. She turned around and looked up at his towering figure He had a large bird of prey perched on his left arm that surveyed the area by constantly jerking its head about.

  'I didn't mean to startle you,' he said earnestly before he extended his gloved hand, 'the name's Githeon Den Chlaíomh.'

  Yara intended to shake his hand, but upon seeing her gauntlets were soaked in cow's blood she refrained. Githeon caught on and retracted his offer.

  'Discovered anything yet?' he asked with an unsure tone, he looked over her shoulder to see the corpse, 'anything interesting, anyhow.'

  'Well she made a big splat when she was dropped, from high up too,' Yara replied, 'besides that her abdomen was punctured in multiple places including all her stomachs, though only eight of the eighteen holes were made by claws.'

  'So what do you think it is?'

  'Probably a wyvern, old, really old,' she answered, 'but it's not like anything else I've encountered before.'

  'what do you mean?'

  'Four pronounced digits with claws, I assumed there aren't a lot of those around anymore considering I've never seen one.'

  'That's all?'

  Yara nodded, 'not much else I can tell from this, the ten other puncture wounds could indicate what species it was but...' she looked down at the corpse to get another look, 'that'd be some rough guesses and probably not what we're up against.'

  'What's your first guess then?'

  'Svartstein Ridgetail, but I don't think they have that number of digits.'

  'We should tell them we know what did it,' Githeon said, he hesitated when he saw Yara wasn't enthused, 'or unless you

  'Maybe...' muttered Yara, 'I usually don't like giving inconclusive information though,' she kept looking at the ground to search for further clues. In the middle of the disturbed snow and surrounded by the splatter of coagulated and frozen blood lay a single scale. Yara picked it up and held it to the sun. Its colours were a beautiful mixture of fiery orange that gradually shifted into lilac blue and it shimmered vividly in the slightly overcast sunlight. The scale was unlike any she'd seen before on a dragon.

  Githeon walked up next to her and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. He too wanted to get a good look as well. Yara instinctively shook his hand away.

  'This is entirely new to me,' she said before presenting the scale to the judge, he held up his hand and carefully examined it up close.

  'Can't say I've seen much like this myself,' he said, 'do you have anything you could use to identify it?'

  Yara nodded and took the scale back before walking back to her horse through the snow. Githeon followed suit, but instead he turned his attention to the arguing farmers whilst Yara searched her encyclopaedia. Nothing. Not a word on a dragon with such vivid colouring. She closed the book and sighed before she turned to the discussion she'd largely ignored. Githeon waited for her to speak her mind on what had killed the cow and possibly endangered the locals.

  'Well...' she let out a deep sigh, 'I can tell that it's a dragon, but what kind exactly is a mystery to me.'

  'Well you're no help then!'

  'Quiet,' said Githeon with a sternly. Yara threw him a thankful glance.

  'The only abnormality was the number of toes I could tell it has, well that and a very oddly coloured scale,' she intended to show it to the farmers, but instead opted not to for fear of them breaking it, 'I'm under the impression that it could be a Svartstein Ridgetail wyvern, and they're relatively easy to lure.'

  'How do you intend on doing that then?'

  'They come back usually, especially when they drop their prey the first time around, if I stay around here I might be able to catch it.'

  The two feuding farmers then looked at each other. One scratched his head in embarrassment for his rude behaviour towards his neighbour.

  'Do you need lodgings?' asked the other, 'or anything, for that matter?'

  'No, I'm...'

  Yara looked at her horse and reconsidered her answer, 'not for me, I mean, she needs somewhere to stay while I solve your problems for you.'

  The farmer nodded.

  'Aye, I can help with that,' he then walked towards Yara's horse, grabbed hold of its reins, and led it away. Githeon's eyes were transfixed on the sword that hung sheathed at her saddle as the horse passed him.

  'I'll get ready then,' said Yara as she looked at the sky, where she saw that the sun was nearing the western horizon, 'the earlier I start, the better.'

* * *

  There she sat. Alone In a frozen field in the middle of winter, nearing midnight. No fire to warm her and no light for fear the dragon would notice. Even though it was pitch-black outside she could see someone approaching her. Judging simply by height she could tell it was Githeon, the judge who'd dragged her into this in the first place. He sat down next to her on the cold, hard ground.

  'You shouldn't be out here without at least a fire,' he said. Every word he spoke went accompanied by a small bit of fog.

  'I'm fine,' said Yara through gritted teeth. In truth she was freezing, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

  'You'll catch something, like frostbite.'

  'So?' she said with a reserved tone. Githeon looked at her. He couldn't make eye contact through the dark and nearly scoffed at what she'd said, though he reconsidered that in favour of a more empathic approach.

  'Are you okay?'

  Yara gave no response.

  'I know I'm really not the person to ask, but I felt I should.'

  The dragon huntress stayed quiet for a good while before she felt the need to say anything.

  'Thanks,' she did appreciate that he asked, even if she didn't feel like answering a stranger's questions, 'you should get back inside,' she continued a little while later. She'd been listening closely to her surroundings the entire time they'd been quiet

  'Why? So you can freeze to death on your own?'

  'No, because it's coming.'

  Githeon listened closely. The silence around them was eerie. He could hear his own heart beat in his chest. There was no real wind to speak of and the sky was clear. A perfect night by any standards. When he'd begun to really listen he could hear it. The faint sound of wings beating air in the far distance.

  'You hear it?' whispered Yara, to which Githeon responded with a nod.

  'Can you tell where it's coming from?'

  'East.'

  'How?'

  'There's a slight breeze from that direction that's carrying the sound, it's more of a guess than anything else.'

The sound was few and far between but increased in volume.

  'Can't imagine how sensitive your hearing's got to be to hear that clearly.'

  'Yeah. It sucks when I'm in a crowd,' she looked at him, 'get back inside,' Yara hissed. Githeon decided now was the time to listen to her and scurry off. The dragon nearly circled overhead when he got to the nearest farmstead. Yara got up from her hiding spot and readied herself. The dragon above gently landed next to the corpse. It immediately began to gorge itself on its day-old kill. Its fiery scales reflected beautifully in the moonlight. On its back a ridge of low spines reached from the base of its neck to the end of its tail, and from the back of its head sprang five horns. One of these horns had been broken off, to the point where the bone core poked out of its keratin sheath. Yara's boots stepped on the crackling, fresh snow as she calmly approached her target. The dragon turned its head to look at her. Its eyes caught her sword reflecting in the pale light of the moon and immediately attempted to flee as if it knew what kind of sword it was. Yara charged when she noticed. In a futile attempt to wound the dragon in any way she threw her sword at it like it was a javelin. It inevitably missed, bounced off the frozen ground and hit it with a snow-muffled clatter as the dragon took off.

  Yara wanted to yell after it. She wanted to shout until her throat was sore, however in a flash of composure she stopped herself and gave up. The one thing she felt she was good at, her job, and she failed miserably. Yara turned around and dejectedly walked back to the house. She slumped her shoulders. Now that the thrill of a possible fight was gone she could feel the cold biting at her. After a short, humiliating walk back to the farmstead she opened the door and entered. The farmer, his family, and Githeon had sat there waiting anxiously for her return.

  'And?' the farmer asked.

  'Did you kill it? Did you slay the dragon?' his youngest child, a boy no older than eight, piped up.

  'No, I messed up,' said Yara, she chose her words carefully so she wouldn't swear.

  'So it's still alive then,' said the farmer as he crossed his arms.

  'I was planning on tracking it in the morning.'

  'With what trail?'

  'Well I know wh-.'

  'You've got nothing to go on.'

  Yara looked down, her eyes turned to the floor, she attempted to find temporary escape from the tirade he was sure to unleash on her. When he did start yelling she had to resist the urge to cover her ears. The one-sided shouting match was interrupted however when Githeon, likely seeing the distress it had already caused in Yara, interrupted his host.

  'I have no doubt in her abilities, good sir,' he said confidently, 'She was simply dealt an unlucky hand in this encounter.'

  Yara's eyes shot back and forth between Githeon and the ground. She appreciated that he was willing to stand up for her. Normally when a situation like this would happen she'd simply stand there and take it until whoever was yelling at her was done, however she preferred how this turned out instead.

  'Tomorrow I will join her when she hunts, you'll have me to blame if we return empty handed,' he looked at Yara now. She was fidgeting with her gambeson, 'would that be okay, my lady?'

Yara nodded, feeling perhaps a little embarrassed by being called "my lady".

  'I think she needs some sleep, do you have anywhere she could stay?'

  'The stables, next to her horse.'

  'I meant inside.'

  'Then the floor will do.'

* * *

  Yara had gotten up at the crack of dawn. She'd resolved to leave as soon as she could to get back to work and try again. When she stepped outside Githeon stood there waiting. His hawk perched on his arm much like it had been the day before.

  'Thought you could leave without me?' he said, his head cocked to one side. Yara looked away, trying to avoid him. That was why she'd gotten up so early.

  'No... I-.'

  'It's fine,' he laughed, 'I'm assuming you want to go by horseback.'

  'Only if you have your own.'

  They walked to the stables, where Yara saw her own horse kicking at the dirt, while in the space next to her stood an imposing, tall, light-brown stallion. It still wore its saddle, from which a bird cage hung securely at its side.

  'Let's be off then,' Githeon said as he put away his pet in its cage and climbed into his saddle. Yara immediately followed suit and rode out ahead a bit, though she waited for him to catch up eventually. They headed east over the snow-covered fields.

  'So do you actually know where it went?'

  'Not exactly,' said Yara quietly, 'I figured it'd be this way because it approached from the east, but that's all I've got.'

  The farms laid close to and nearly hugged the side of Angalir's massive mountain range, which meant that the dragon couldn't have gone much further than that. Flying over them was usually a level of effort dragons wouldn't rise to if they really didn't need to.

  'Let's say it's in the mountains,' said Githeon, 'how do you suppose we get up there?'

  'It doesn't look too steep to climb, could probably do it on foot.'

  'So you're gonna climb a mountain and then fight a large, fire breathing lizard?'

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  'Not much different from how it usually goes,' Yara replied as she scanned the side of the mountain range. Even from the ground she could see several paths leading to tight crevices and even a few more open ones that, provided it could climb the steep path to get to it, would even fit her horse.

  'A fight like that sounds like it'd be worth a ballad.'

  Yara scoffed, 'yeah, if I could stand a bard for long enough to talk to them,' she looked at the bird of prey sitting contently in its cage, 'what can that bird of yours even do?'

  'She doesn't do much, helps with hunting a bit I suppose,' Githeon replied, glancing down at it.

  'Why even bring her then?'

  'She was a gift from my ma, back home on Talamh Fiaigh, parting with her would be wrong. Besides, companionship is nice.'

  His mention of the bird assisting in hunting spurred an idea in Yara's mind.

  'Do you think she can help us track?' she asked. Her question was followed by a deliberating silence from the travelling judge.

  'How do you suppose she'd do that?'

  'Well... she could fly back once she sees the dragon maybe... ' muttered Yara as she sunk into thought, 'that could work right?'

  'No harm in trying,' answered Githeon. He opened the cage that he'd kept his bird in and let her grab onto his gloved forearm, then, after he raised the bird up he said something in Fiaighan to her, before he let her go. The hawk flew out and let the wind carry it further upwards before it began to circle overhead in a wide radius.

  'What'd you say to her?'

  'Nothing really. Ma called it a spell, but there's no actual magic involved.'

Both went quiet for a little while as they continued to look for any possible clues on the ground. Githeon occasionally looked up to his bird as it surveyed the area from above. Something was aching at Yara's mind. It hadn't bothered or offended her, but she didn't understand why he'd stood up for her.

  'Why did you do that?' she asked, realising too late that she wasn't being clear enough.

  'Do what?

  'People don't typically do nice things for me. They dismiss me, treat me like a child, or are just outright mean. When I get shouted at normally people start walking by faster. Why'd you tell him to stop?'

  'Oh, that,' Githeon looked at her, trying to study what little of her face she could see, 'well, you see, you reminded me of someone when you were standing there. I have a little brother back home,' he continued as he looked back up at his bird, 'he's kind of like you.'

  'How so?'

  'He'd mess something up and my da... well he was relentless. He'd give him an earful. Every time even the tiniest thing went wrong, even if it wasn't his fault. He'd have to stand there and take it. Sometimes he'd cover his ears in an attempt to make it stop,' said Githeon, 'He looked like he was on the verge of cracking every time, even though he was just a kid.'

  'That's horrible,' said Yara, genuinely horrified by the prospect, 'Did you step in then too?'

  'I helped once,' he answered, 'my little brother had cowered into a corner and was about to start crying because of what my father was doing, and da's response was to bring out a switch. That's when I'd had enough and stepped up to him, wrestled the weapon out of my father's hands, and pushed him to the floor. Took a lot out of me to not hit him while he was down.'

  Yara looked at her travelling companion, she'd caught the subtle hint that he'd begun to choke up and wanted to see if he was okay.

  'You're a little rugged, so I doubt you'd let some dumb farmer lay his hands on you. Regardless it felt like the right thing to do,' Githeon said, his eyes met hers for a second. Then they both went quiet. Yara had to think about what he'd told her before she'd continue talking.

  'Thank you, I don't think you know how much it means to me that you were willing to help.'

  That's where their conversation ended. Their search continued past midday, when finally Githeon's hawk came down on a near straight path up the mountain. No twists and turns, simply a stone and gravel slope with patches of snow here and there. Yara got down from her horse.

  'What about the horses?'

  'I was under the impression you'd stay here,' said the dame as she put her helmet under her arm.

  'I told the farmer I'd come with you.'

  'You don't have the equipment for it.'

  'You've got a spare sword I could use, don't you?'

  'What? I-,' she looked at her saddle and saw Dawn, her own dragonforged sword, resting in its scabbard. When she remembered she still had it with her she wanted to tear it off the saddle and throw it to the ground, but at the same time she didn't want to touch it. She had Skycleave, Arran's sword, she didn't need Dawn anymore. At least that's what she told herself.

  'You can't use that one,' said Yara with a stern tone as she held back whatever emotions she was feeling, 'it'd be too heavy for you anyway.'

  'It doesn't look any heavier than any other.'

  'It wasn't made for you,' she replied in that same tone. Her own blood had been worked into the blade, nobody else could wield it, even if they wanted to. Githeon caught the hint and opted to quit prying instead of poking at what he assumed to be an open wound.

  'So, you're going up there on your own then?'

  'Yup, if I'm not back within the next day I'm probably dead,' Yara replied in a more jovial, perhaps even positive tone. Really she was just making an attempt at morbid humour.

  'That's the first thing I've heard you be optimistic about.'

  'There isn't much else...' she muttered and set out for the mountain path. Githeon followed her with his eyes. He deliberated on whether he should say something.

  'Hey!' he shouted, Yara turned her head to look at him, 'earlier when I said you could talk to me if something was wrong, I meant it.'

  'Thanks, Githeon.'

  The climb up was somewhat rough. Wind and weather pushed and shoved at Yara as she approached the high-up end of the path. She kept going though, she needed to kill that dragon. It'd serve as a good distraction, something to keep her mind occupied, to get her back into the swing of things. She finally reached the dead end ahead. A rockslide had made what lay ahead impassable and it meant she'd have only two ways to go: back down, or into a crevice on the side of the mountain. It was narrow, Yara assumed uncomfortably so at some points. Fortunately even that narrow pass remained under the open sky, and so she shuffled her way through.

  She expected to come out on the other side, but instead she found herself at a small hidden vale behind the mountain peaks. There was green grass and moss, with old, gnarled willow trees that rustled gently in the weakened wind. At the edge of the vale against the rocky cliffs lay a dragon. It was sleeping, or at least it looked that way. Its fiery orange and lilac blue scales covered in the shadow from an overhang. Next to it was a small, crudely made cairn, with at its base an ornately decorated axe and a pair of gauntlets. It all looked so carefully prepared, so intricately built, yet it was still crude in a way that made it obvious no human could ever have made it, let alone the fact that nobody could've been here in what must've been forever. The dragon's eye slowly opened, which revealed a beautiful mix of amber gold and sapphire blue. It looked right at Yara as she calmly approached the creature.

  'Were you sent to kill me?' It asked with a deep, tired, perhaps even fearful voice, 'is that why you sought to deprive me of my last meal?'

  'I was...' said Yara, she was slightly taken aback by the notion of a dragon's "last meal". It sighed.

  'So now not only time has caught up with me, but so has my own recklessness,' it shifted its head and raised it slightly, 'I am no threat to anyone, not any longer.'

  'What do you mean?'

  The dragon didn't answer her, instead it nudged the cairn it lay next to and laid its head down again.

  'Well, I can't return without a trophy but... I also don't like killing dragons that talk to me first. It feels wrong.'

  'I have a proposition.'

  'A proposition?' Yara cocked her head, one of her eyebrows raised.

  'I am dying, something which my kin might take issue with, but I have come to accept the inevitability of. however now that the moment is here I find myself... hesitant,' it looked directly at her. Though she'd made clear she wouldn't attack him now, the lack of hostility still somewhat disarmed her, 'I do not want to be alone, as my rider was when she fell from her saddle.'

  The word "rider" made Yara's ears perk up. That wasn't something you heard every day, in fact it wasn't anything you'd ever hear. Dragons were naturally prideful, and to let a human ride them as a mount was an insult to all their kind. This wasn't just any dragon, it was one of only six to ever let a human saddle and ride them.

  'I would like to ask you to sit with me, it has been long since a human has stood their weapon toward me,' it said with a begging tone steeped in both hesitancy and regret.

  'I... uh...' Yara, taken aback by the request, started to stammer. There was no way in this world or the next that she'd refuse that opportunity. Immediately she unbuckled the belt from which Skycleave hung sheathed and carefully put it down on the ground. The dragon breathed in deeply as it shifted its head and wing to allow for a spot where Yara could sit. She placed her hand on its neck and felt its slow, haggard breaths. After some silence she looked at the cairn and felt a need to ask about it.

  'Could you tell me who's buried here?'

  'My friend,' the answer was short and wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary if it hadn't been for the fact that dragons typically didn't use, or worse, didn't understand what the word "friend" meant. Personally Yara didn't know of any that did anyhow.

  'Your... friend?' she asked, knowing the significance of that word when it came from the dragon's mouth.

  'Katya,' it said with a sad tone, 'has man forgotten her so soon?'

  Katya the Winged. One of six dragon riders in the history of the world, a revered member of the Pantheon of Hallowed Saints, and a figure whose life Yara knew front to back. She'd been an idol of hers as a child. A woman who rose from the depths of a cell to a praised military commander and dragon rider. The dragon she was sitting up against was none other than Ancaror the Shamed, her mount. Yara kept her eyes focused on the cairn. She noticed small details about it that seemed relevant to the life of the woman buried under it. A billowing shred of Katya's blue cloak stuck between the rocks. Ancaror's missing horn lay at its base, next to the two gauntlets. He'd buried her here, far away from the world, away from the people that'd prop up her body for display like some macabre statue.

  'I'm so sorry about...'

  'About her fall?' asked Ancaror, 'it was I who failed to protect her, not her kind,' he silenced his guest with those words before he closed his eyes again.

  'How did you ever move past something like that?' asked Yara after a painful silence.

  '"Move past"?' he answered with a question, 'what is it you mean?'

  'How did you... you know... get over the loss of your friend?'

  'Do you mean forget?'

  'No... I meant "accept".'

  The dragon shifted behind her. As its breaths got deeper she could feel her body move with his slow motions.

  'I was not aware one could "accept" the death of one so close.'

  'Yeah, I find it hard to believe too,' she scoffed.

  'Since her fall I have not known a day without grief,' said Ancaror with a sigh, 'was that a fool's decision for me to make?'

  'I think... I think Katya wouldn't have wanted you to dwell on her death for so long,' said Yara, it was as if something in her own head clicked when those words left her mouth. She'd said them without thinking, as if they'd been on the tip of her tongue this whole time.

  'She would've wanted you to keep fighting, to live your life even after she was gone.'

  'She would have wanted me to forget her?'

  'Not forget, accept,' said Yara, 'Moving past the pain eventually lets you live freely, and creates a happier memory of who you've lost.'

  Silence fell again and the dragon's breaths were getting shorter.

  'What is your name, girl?'

  'It's Yara, Yara Stormcleaver.'

  'Place your hand on my neck, Stormcleaver,' commanded Ancaror as he shifted his head and moved it closer to her. Yara calmly obliged.

  'In my last moments I name you as my friend, Yara Stormcleaver,' he said, 'wear the title with pride, as you have earned this honour.'

  Yara was at a loss for words. She sat there in silence, with an old, dying Wyvern curled up around her like a giant, sleeping, reptilian dog as it breathed its last. She rested the side of her head on the dragon's chest, hearing his lungs fill with the cold, fresh mountain air one final time. As they emptied themselves the thumping of his three-chambered heart came to a slow, lingering close. Then, nothing. Pure silence. Not even the mountain winds which gently rustled the branches of the vale's willow trees made a sound at that moment. Yara then broke the silence as a single, loud sob shot through her body. Tears started to stream down her face as the floodgates broke and her sobs devolved into a full-on ugly cry. She wasn't crying over the dragon's death, she'd experienced plenty of those in her time as a Knight of Ash. Her own words had just hit her like a warhammer crushing a walnut. Her crying filled the otherwise quiet mountain air as she pulled her knees close to her chest. There wasn't anything else she wanted to do.

* * *

  Down at the mountain's base Githeon had nearly given up his wait and began to pack up the things he'd used to make himself more comfortable when Yara came walking down the mountain path. Her face red and worn from the tears that'd run down her normally pale cheeks.

  'You're alive!' said Githeon excitedly, not picking up on the fact that she'd just been crying. Her response wasn't exactly enthusiastic.

  'Come on, let's go back.'

At the farm Yara told them she'd slain the beast with a clean cut, and she was handed a meager pouch of silver coins in return for her services. She was ready to leave immediately afterwards when Githeon stopped her.

  'I want to thank you for your help here,' he said, 'I actually had one request for you.'

Yara sighed and looked ahead.

  'Go ahead, ask,' she replied in a monotone.

  'I need a bodyguard when on the road here, I have a hammer but barely any idea how to use it.'

  'I'm not sure whether tha-.'

  'I can pay handsomely.'

  She remembered just how little she had left of her own money, and today's meager addition didn't increase her coffers by much if anything at all.

  'Fine,' she accepted, 'let's go then, we'll talk about payment on the road.