"I'm glad we didn't pick up any company back there. If you'd hired a dashing captain with a hairy sidekick my brain might have steamed out my ears."

  Nathan watched Maggie's back for a few moments, hoping for a reply that didn’t come.

  Oh well, he thought, glancing up into the rain. It's that kind of day.

  They'd made little progress up the road since leaving the inn: just as they'd finished outfitting Nathan the sky had cracked down the middle and sprung the mother of all leaks. Nathan made jokes about ark season but Maggie said nothing. She'd said nothing since her little demonstration, had not even protested when Tornic threw a sword belt into the pile of food, clothes, and assorted tackle. She just gave the innkeeper a handful of coins, dumped the pile into Nathan's hands and walked away without a word.

  The pack was heavy, and when he added the thick cloak and hood... Nathan liked to think of himself as tough, but that illusion quickly shattered under the weight of soggy clothes, a pack, and a sword at his hip. He spent much of his time that afternoon thinking he had a good idea what it was like to be a horse.

  Maggie continued silent all day and Nathan was left to trudge along in her wake. After the first hour Nathan thanked every higher power he'd heard of that they were on the stone road and not back on the forest trails. Walking with only the guitar to weigh him down in those woods hadn't been bad. In this weather, with this much gear... that would have worn holes in his feet the size of golf balls, to say nothing of what the inhabitants would have added to the experience.

  After the fourth hour Nathan wasn't thinking much of anything. What was left of his energy was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, so he didn’t hear when Maggie stopped and told him to move.

  She raised her voice in a hoarse shout. "Nathan, move."

  He looked up and noticed an army.

  Maggie pushed him out of their way with seconds to spare: judging by the flat-eyed stares of the people as they passed they might have trampled him. Nathan could feel the dull thunder of their passing through his shoes and was amazed he hadn't noticed them earlier. Maggie whispered in a ragged voice "Don't look them in the eye, don't talk to them, and for the love of God don't mouth off."

  Nathan nodded absently, eyes goggling at the endless horde of ragged people. "Who are they?"

  "Conscripts."

  "What?"

  "They're drafted," she explained. "Peasants plucked from field and town, hands and lives paid to war." He cocked his head at that and she waved a hand. "It's from a song. Most are farmers. A few criminals sentenced to soldiery, that kind of thing."

  "Who are they fighting?"

  "Who aren’t they fighting? Kindreds fight each other over prejudice, the nobles fight each other over scraps of land, the nations across the sea fight… for an excuse, I suppose." Maggie grimaced. "The king is a good man, but old, and the prince... well, the prince isn't right. That the king's refused to acknowledge him as heir is the only reason either of them isn't dead already."

  Nathan tried to shush her, appalled. "Jesus. Aren't you afraid they'll hear us?"

  "I'm speaking English."

  "Well, so are... oh."

  "Yeah. The only one who needs to worry is you. So keep quiet." Maggie started walking again. "The Morserans will be coming up soon."

  Nathan wanted to ask what a Morseran was but Maggie was already disappearing into the rain, keeping her distance from the army as it slowly filed past. A few minutes later, his question was answered.

  Nathan's first thought was of knights. However, he remembered a few things about medieval warfare from high school and to his knowledge the armored knight had never gone on foot when they could help it. Nathan wouldn't have bet on himself in a footrace against these people, not even if they gave him a head start. They moved like dancers, each movement a study in raw grace. Their armor, form-fitting segments of silver-black plate, nestled against bodies sheathed in thick, dark cloth. A spear tipped with the same metal was in each soldier's hand, swords were on their hips, and they bore packs that Nathan guessed were easily twice as heavy as his own. Unlike the conscripts ahead they spoke to one another, joking and laughing as though they knew nothing about where they were going.

  Or maybe they do, Nathan thought, and they're just that confident.

  There were a few hundred of them at most, outnumbered almost laughably by the thousands of conscripts that had already passed, but Nathan had a feeling that one of these people could cut through them like wheat until brought down by either exhaustion or a really, really lucky shot. These were not simply killers but living weapons, pure and lethal as the blades at their sides.

  Roughly a hundred riders in more familiar plate came after the Morserans, each flanked by a private army of attendants. Their armor was filigreed with precious metals, more art than war harness. Some of the armor seemed to be made of the same metal as the Morseran plate. Knights wearing that often filled it rather poorly. Probably inherited, Nathan guessed. These must be the nobility Maggie mentioned.

  One of the knights, his Morseran plate fitting as though made for him and marked with a silver lance on his breast, swung out of formation and approached Maggie. Moments later Nathan caught up with them.

  "...Back in front with the rest, girl, and be thankful I do not see you hanged for desertion." Despite the visor muffling the knight's voice Nathan could tell that for all his bluster he was little older than they were. That, and that he'd been drinking. His horse pranced restlessly, his rider yanking at the reins every few seconds and drawing an angry, neighing protest.

  "I have no part in your war, Jon Greylance," Maggie answered frostily. "I have my own business to attend to. See to your own and pray it does not cross mine."

  The lord put a hand on his sword and Nathan suddenly felt the weight of his own blade, fingers itching like a gunfighter's before the draw. Idiot, he told himself. You'll only get yourself killed. This is her problem.

  "I would know the name of one who speaks such impudence, girl," the knight slurred, "before I see your head roll on the ground."

  Maggie's hand blurred and the lord's sword rose a few inches from its scabbard before she drew a small, wallet-like square of leather from her belt. She opened it and flashed the contents at the knight with a cold smirk. "And I would suggest you move along before you have cause to learn my name, milord."

  The knight turned and spurred his horse away without another word. Maggie pocketed the token and turned back to the road.

  Nathan stared after her, curious but not wanting to draw attention from anyone else. Thankfully it didn't take long for them to pass; after the knights came a small parade of wagons, and once they had passed the road was clear of everything but rain.

  "What did you show him, your license to kill?"

  Maggie didn't even turn. "Forget about it."

  "Come on, Maggie, talk to me," Nathan chided. "Just tell me−"

  "Haven't you figured out enough on your own for one day?" Maggie snapped, bitterness lacing her words like acid. "I promised to get you home, so I'm getting you home. Be glad of that and be quiet."

  Nathan peered unhappily at her back, puzzled and upset. What am I supposed to do, Nathan groused inwardly, treat her like a freak? Seems that's what she wants.

  Why not? A nasty little voice suggested. She did take your brain and rattle it around like a Yahtzee cup.

  She did, and it scared the shit out of me, but why did she do it? Why attack someone like that? She said that was how she killed people. Obviously I'm not dead, so...

  So what? What does it matter why she did it? She did it, and that's that. No one does that to someone they like.

  Or maybe she's trying to push me away, Nathan reasoned, trying to adjust a strap digging into his shoulder. Sever connections. She clearly cares a great deal what I think of her, yet here she is working to drive me off. Why build any kind of a relationship?

  He realized as he walked that he had one hand in his pocket and the other on the hilt of his sword. It felt natural, though he imagined looked rather silly. When I shared the stars with her it was special, I know that, but she refused to tell me anything about who she is or what she does. I had to push her to get it and, unless I'm wrong, she was unnerved when I figured out the language thing. She wants me to like her... but she thinks I shouldn't? Sounds right.

  You shouldn't like her at all. She kills people for a living, man.

  So did Jack.

  Whatever. You sound like a highschooler trying to work up the nerve to ask a girl out. I wouldn't let her touch me−

  Good idea. The little voice was stunned into silence as Nathan jogged forward and offered Maggie his hand. "Here."

  She turned slowly, her face wet with rain, at least in part. "What do you want, Nathan?"

"You don't what to hear what I have to say," he said gently "so maybe it'll be easier if I just show you."

  Her voice was wooden as she faced the road. "You think I'm a freak."

  "I think you think I think you're a freak. I think you should think I think you deserve a chance."

  Her mouth quirked with a broken smile. "You think?"

  Nathan nodded patiently. "I do. Your father was an abusive drunk. Not your fault.

  You were adopted by the embodiment of suicide. Not your fault." Nathan looked up from counting on his fingers. "Well, kind of. You were cute at seven years old. Still are. Dimples."

  She hiccupped, and Nathan grinned. "You have spooky brain powers. Not your fault, that's... well, you haven't explained exactly how you got those, but I'll assume it's not your fault. As for the killing people for a living..."

  Nathan shrugged. "My brother did that, and I thought he was alright. Why do you kill people for a living? I think that's the clincher here, Maggie." He shrugged. "If you do it for fun, then yes, I'm sorry, but you're a freak."

  "I hate it," Maggie whispered.

  "You hate what?"

  "I hate killing people. When they die, I..." She shuddered.

  Nathan could guess. "You see it, don't you? Well, not see it, but−"

  "Yes," she said, hunching in on herself. "When I'm touching them it's even worse. I sense it all. Every thought, every feeling, every damned time. But I have to."

  Nathan rested his hand on her shoulder, trying to be comforting but flinching away when she tried to set her hand on his. He swore and apologized but she only gave him a sad smile. "Its fine, I get it."

  It's my turn to share. Nathan forced himself to relax and let her hold his hand. "My brother worked for a company called ARC."

  Maggie's brow furrowed and Nathan felt a twinge between his eyes. "The... Asset Recovery Corps?"

  "Yes. Please don't do that."

  "Sorry. It sounds cheesy."

  "I know, but that's what they called themselves. They were independent contractors. When people, businesses, even governments wanted something they legally couldn't get, they called my brother's team."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Maggie scowled. "I know what a mercenary is, Nathan, I am one."

  "Let me finish." It was hard to talk about Jack, even indirectly, and Nathan had to collect himself. He could feel Maggie at the edges of his mind, gently offering support. He drew comfort from her and continued.

  "They weren't just guns for hire, though occasionally they got their hands dirty. Have you seen... never mind. When something was stolen or had to be retrieved, weapons or documents or even people, Jack's bunch would be sent to get it back however possible. They called him the C.O. of the team."

  "Commanding officer?"

  Nathan shook his head. "Conscience officer. He was deeply religious and driven by ethics rather than money. He genuinely believed what he was doing was necessary, and he was one of the few willing and able to do it. That's why he did it, not the pay. Weird for a hired gun, I guess, but they loved him for it. I loved him for it." Nathan took his hand back and thumbed the cross at his wrist, lost in thought.

  "And you think I'm doing the same thing."

  "I don't know, are you?"

  "Kind of?" She said it hesitatingly, and Nathan waited for her to continue.

  "It's..." Maggie chuckled. "It's complicated. People like me have a kind of... tradition, I suppose, of finding work as assassins. Highly paid. There's an organization with an agreement to... well, that's not important. I mean, how many people can... you know," she snapped her fingers, "poof here, poof there?"

  "Or kill people just by touching them?" Nathan suggested.

  "Not as many as you'd think." she replied. "Pestilence and War... yes, they're real. A child of Pestilence wouldn't have to touch you, and War would have to... well, get choppy."

  "And this is for... practice?"

  Maggie shrugged, scowling as she struggled to think of an explanation. "No, It's necessity. It's... it's my nature, like... like breathing."

  Nathan frowned. "I don't follow."

  Maggie gestured at her chest. "People breathe. Most times they don't think about it, but if they concentrate they can change the pattern, the depth.” She smirked. "Now, imagine that you sense despair in the same way, that you are drawn those too tired to go on living."

  "So you track them down? End it for them?"

  She shook her head. "I lead them down the road, as my father does."

  "I don't see the difference."

  "I'm there to guide them, not take them. I don't do anything. They do." Maggie sighed. "You'll understand someday."

  Nathan did his best not to think about that as she continued. "But I can do more than that. I can manipulate it, hurry it along, even force it on people. And if I don't guide the people that need me, I lose control. To use the analogy; if I hold my breath too long, I… I hyperventilate."

  Nathan shivered. "That's hideous.

  "It is," Maggie nodded. "Death is part of who I am, Nathan, but not, at the end of the day, all I am. Not like it is with Bobby. It wasn't in his nature to adopt me, or to give me as much choice as I've had. With most others like me, you're chosen and that's it. That's your place." She smiled fondly. "He let me choose to be his heir."

  "And you chose this because..."

  "Because someone had to." Pride lined her every word as she spoke. "I owe him, don't you see? He would have been content to let me live a normal life but he's tired. He's so tired, Nathan."

  Nathan nodded. He was beginning to understand.

  "For longer than he can remember, maybe longer than anyone can remember, Bobby has been Suicide. He has witnessed every one, Nathan. Known what each of those people was thinking as they died, sometimes caused them to think those things. How long could you bear that?"

  "I don't know," Nathan said. "Honestly, I'd never want to."

  "Neither do I," Maggie confided. "But I love him more than I hate his work, and when he's ready to be finished I won't be the one to force him to stay. So, I wait, and I... I work."

  "You kill. Because..."

  "Because some people simply needed to die horrible, filthy deaths," Maggie spat.

  "Like Tyler?"

  Nathan watched Maggie go pale but kept speaking. It has to be said. "Do you have the right to make that call, Maggie?" he said quietly. "Can you even think you do?"

  "I don't. I never have." Her knuckles went white as they tightened into a shaking fist. "He... I killed him without thinking, Nathan. I've never done that before. You were right, I have killed before, but never like that. Believe me, never like that. I'm paid to do it and do it often, but I..." she grimaced. "I suppose you could say I let them judge themselves."

  "I don't understand."

  Maggie was quiet so long he was half-convinced she'd fallen asleep on her feet. When she spoke it was in a dead whisper, like a leaf scraping across a stone. Nathan had to lean forward to hear her over the rain.

  "You can't believe what kind of guilt an ordinary person feels for the things they have done, the shame they feel for hiding it from themselves." She shook her head. "If you believe nothing else I tell you, believe this: when I say that I've killed those who deserved it, I did not judge them. Each one believed that he deserved to die. Tyler was the only one who didn't." She shook slightly, and though she didn't make a sound Nathan could tell she was crying. "I drove him to insanity. I did it, and I did it because I wanted him dead." She faced him, eyes wide. "I wanted him dead. This is... Nathan, this is my fault."

  "How?" Nathan asked. "You didn’t stab me, he did. You saved my life."

  Maggie shook her head stubbornly. "That's not what I-"

  "Just shut up."

  Maggie started. "Excuse me?"

  "I'm serious. Shut up and hold still."

  Maggie stopped, looking puzzled, and before she could say a word Nathan wrapped her in his arms and held her. An instant later she hugged him back, and for a moment there was only the rain and the warmth of her arms around him.

  He took her chin in his hand and gently raised her head until he could look in her eyes. "It's not your fault."

  "But I−"

  "Shut up!" he said again, then continued in the same patient voice. "It's not your fault. I saw it. He was trying to stab you too. Even if you'd killed him with a gun there is not a judge in the world who wouldn't call it self-defense. It's not your fault, and I'll keep saying it until you believe it too."

  "Fine." She said it slowly, heatedly, and Nathan was abruptly very, very aware that her lips were only inches from his. It would be easy, so easy, he thought. Just lean forward and...

  "Ah... eh-heh..."

  "Yes?" she said in the same unhurried voice, but with a note of excitement to it this time. She might have inched closer. Nathan wasn't sure, because he backed away very quickly and stammered. "Ahaha... how far are we walking again?"

  There was a pout on Maggie's face for the briefest of moments before she composed herself. "Not sure, but it usually takes about two or three days on a horse, so... a weekish?"

  Nathan turned and hiked up the road, trying to think calm thoughts. "I am going to have blisters..." A few moments later he heard Maggie start after him, his back hot under the weight of her puzzled glare.

  What's the matter, champ? Cold feet?

  One thing at a time, Nathan thought, irritated the voice was back. I've enough on my plate as it is. Besides, I'm leaving soon, right? Bad idea to get caught up in this place.

  She hasn't told you when you're leaving or where we're going. You know that, right? And she didn't say what was her fault. You assumed she meant Tyler and finished for her.

  Right... hey...

  Yes?

  Nathan grinned. Shut up, cricket.

  The rains eventually slowed to a vague drizzle, though they never fully stopped. Maggie stopped for camp just before it got dark, making their way into the forest until they were well out of sight of the road. They had stopped only twice before then to rest and eat: Nathan was amazed his feet hadn't exploded. He creaked his way behind a tree to take care of some private business and then made his way over to their camp, staring in disbelief at the small fire Maggie had started.

  "This place is wetter than a horny mermaid's naughty bits. How did you start a fire?" Nathan's tone grew hushed. "Magic?"

  Maggie laughed. "No, no, I keep matches and some kindling in my pack. The last people who could use magic died hundreds of years ago."

  Nathan sat next to her with a groan and frowned. "Aren't your abilities magic?"

  "No, those are... um..." Maggie scowled at him. "I don't know, alright? I have them because I'm Bobby's apprentice."

  "So all you can do is teleport, planeswalk, and..." Nathan waggled his fingers "...tinker? No fireballs, no summoning of spooks or predicting the future?"

  Maggie shrugged with a vague smile. "Kinda. In some ways, I'm still learning what I can do. And... planeswalk? I like that. You come up with that?"

  "Not me, Wizards of the Coast."

  "Huh..." Maggie poked at the fire and then vanished, reappearing with an armful of dry logs a few seconds later, startling Nathan off his seat. Maggie chuckled and fed the wood to the fire as Nathan sat back up. "It's as good a term as any, I suppose. And before you ask, these," she tossed the last log on the fire "are from Tornic's."

  "Did you pay in advance?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Yes, nag."

  Chuckling, Nathan pulled his shoes off, wincing slightly. He'd been right about the blisters. Eying the road, Nathan gave Maggie a hopeful smile. "Are you sure you can't just poof us where we're going?"

  "Not without an oak tree and someone to kill, Nathan," Maggie replied. "I told you that. I don't have a... um... a target yet. When I do, we'll get you home." She smiled tentatively. "Until then, think of this as a growing experience."

  "I dunno, my legs might fall off before we get there." Nathan grinned ruefully as she laughed. "So, what happened?"

  Maggie fished about in her bag for a meal. "What do you mean?"

  "What happened to the people who could use magic?" Nathan searched his own pack and found a package filled with dried meat and some nuts. Dog Jerky and Walnuts. Score.

  "You can say it, you know," Maggie said with a grin.

  "Say what?"

  "Wizards."

  He sighed. "Fine. What happened to the wizards?"

  Maggie gave him a sideways glance. "Remember how Merlin was locked in an oak tree?"

  "Yeah?"

  "That."

  "You're kidding," Nathan scoffed. "He actually existed?"

  "Yup." Maggie smiled.

  According to Maggie, Merlin had been one of the most powerful wizards ever born. While in Nathan's world they were no different than anyone else, a person capable of using magic, of altering reality through sheer force of will, could live like a king in this one.

  "Let me guess," Nathan said. "The ones with power lorded it up."

  She nodded. "They also butchered the other kindreds sharing the land, elves and grints and such, driving them into the wilds. No other mortal kindred can use it. There were several bloodlines of magic that ruled over the others and humanity at large. Some say Merlin was insane, others that he saw the future or that he was a good man. Whatever it was, getting locked in an oak tree wasn't a punishment or a trap, it was the focal point of his last spell."

  "He closed the doorway, locking the wizards in my world."

  "You're too smart for your own good, wiseass." Maggie said with a scowl. "And yes. There used to be loads of ways between worlds; oaks were just one of them. Merlin's spell closed them all. The major bloodlines were shunted to the other side, the rest were abandoned here. The ordinary people were out for blood when they realized what happened, and after about a thousand years of witch hunts... well, if they still exist, they're very quiet about it."

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. "So I might be..."

  "A wizard?" Maggie laughed uncomfortably. "Able to... how did you put it, throw fireballs, summon spooks and predict the future? I doubt it. Even when the bloodlines were mapped and planned power wasn't a guarantee. After so much time..." Maggie shrugged and pointed at the fire. "If I had to guess, the bloodlines would be so diffuse by now it'd be a miracle if you had enough power to start that. On the other hand, anyone can summon ‘spooks.’"

  "Really? How?"

  "Well, not everyone. You’ve got to know how, and it’s forbidden. Has been since before Merlin's time."

  "Is that where the revenant came from?"

  "I have no idea." Maggie shrugged. "If I had to guess, some idiot stumbled across a bit of lost, highly illegal knowledge and tried it out instead of burning it. Didn't work out so well for them if the revenant escaped."

  Nathan leaned forward. "What makes you say that?"

  "If it was free, it probably killed the summoner before it got loose. Why so interested? Worried I'll notice you're disappointed you're not a wizard?"

  "Well, yeah," Nathan said with a blush, "but I still want to know. I did nearly get killed by the damned thing, after all."

  "And you were saved by a salamander. Can I..." Maggie paused, nervous. "Can I see it?"

  "What?"

  "I want to see the salamander." Maggie said earnestly. "Most people think they don't exist. They're even rarer than dragons. Can I?"

  "Wait, dragons?" Nathan asked, but Maggie leaned forward, earnest as a little girl begging for a pony ride. "Can I? Can I, please?"

  Nathan shook his head with a smile and offered her his hand. She took it with a pleased squeak, a tingling flow of energy slowly rushing down his arm as he focused on the memory. Maggie sighed, nestling against him, and he reflexively put his arm around her shoulders. "God, it's beautiful. I'd heard stories, but I never imagined they were so... beautiful.”

  "Like you." Nathan mumbled without thinking. Maggie turned to him with a small smile. "You think so?"

  The night went deafeningly quiet as Nathan considered the woman in his arms. Yes, she was terrifying. She had thrown him headfirst into a world that had nearly killed him several times. And when everything was done with, he'd probably never see her again. To hell with that, he thought, and kissed her.

  Maggie flowed into the kiss with a passion that both surprised Nathan and seemed as though he should have expected it all along. Her lips were soft and sweet, moving against his with a patience that maddened him. He pulled her closer, then brought his other hand around and cupped her hair in her fingers, pulling slightly and winning a delighted hiss from her mouth. She leaned forward with a throaty moan, nipping softly at his lips. She raised a hand and...

  For one perfect instant she ran her fingers down his neck with a delicious heat, but the moment flickered and died at that touch: it was the same gesture that she'd used to distract him at the inn. Nathan pulled away just as Maggie did, both groaning.

  "Not a good idea," he breathed, trying and failing to believe it.

  "Nope," She whispered with a pained grumble. "My dad would kill you if he saw this."

  Nathan grimaced. "Getting the dad talk from Death. That'd be awkward."

  "No kidding." They reluctantly drew away into their own thoughts, less than a foot away and worlds apart.

  "I don't know what to do," Maggie said after a few minutes.

  "What do you mean?" Nathan asked, shaken from gloomy thoughts of whether his bedroll was still dry after all the rain.

  "I... I..." she stared at him helplessly. "It's kinda private. Nothing you could help with." She took his hand and squeezed as though afraid he'd disappear. "I'm sorry."

  Nathan chuckled and squeezed back. "Why apologize? You did say it's private."

  She twitched slightly in what might have been a shake of the head. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, as though she hadn't heard him.

  He shrugged. On impulse, he slipped his bracelet off and put it in her hand. "Here."

  "I can't take this−"

  "Who said anything about taking?" Nathan laughed. "You can borrow it. It helps, trust me."

  She smiled faintly and fingered the beads before turning to the fire. After a few minutes, Nathan glanced up at the stars. "Should one of us keep watch?"

  Maggie frowned for a moment and then shrugged. "There's nobody around and the fire's out, but sure. Mind if I sleep first? Lichroot burns out quick anyway."

  "Lichroot?" Nathan asked, watching as she pulled a flask from her pack. "What is that?"

  "Medicine."

  "Medicine, right." Nathan smirked. "Can I try?"

  She shrugged, handing it over, and Nathan took a single sip before spitting it out.

  "God, what is this? I didn't know 'rough' was a flavor."

  She grinned. "I told you, medicine. Quiets it all down for an hour or so, makes it so I can't... see, I suppose, otherwise I'd be 'watching' your brain rattle away all night. That, and some booze."

  "Booze?” Nathan took a swig and gagged. “It tastes more like juice from the ass end of a rotten lemon."

  "Was that a guess?" She frowned. "Wow, good palate."

  Nathan stared at her for a moment and she giggled. "Kidding. That’s the lichroot extract; it's lemony."

  "Here you go," Nathan grumped, giving back the flask and trying to think taste-free thoughts.

  Nathan watched as she untied her bedroll and made her bed by the fire. When he realized he was staring he drew his sword and examined it, desperate for something to distract himself. A few minutes later he glanced back and she was already asleep in her blankets.

  On impulse he leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, then turned and stared into the fire, Tornic's words echoing in his ears over and over again as the hours wore on.

  Take too much to the heart, she will kill you.

  "What the hell am I doing?" Nathan finally whispered to himself.

  "Resting," said a voice, and something hard knocked Nathan over the head.