Chapter 17 - Chapter 16 - Bound by a Silent Promise

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The next morning, as was his custom, Athan woke with the rising sun, just as the rest of the tribe did. Stretching his limbs, he made his way to the waterfall, kneeling at the basin to splash the cool water onto his face. The chill jolted him fully awake, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. As droplets dripped from his chin, he took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp morning air before turning his attention to the fields.

As he approached, he noticed that his scarecrow had drawn the interest of his father, Wade, along with a few other tribe members. They stood near the structure, observing it with curiosity, their expressions puzzled. Wade turned to Athan, his brow furrowed.

"What that?"

Athan stepped forward, keeping his words simple. "Scares birds. They see, think it person. They stay away."

Wade's eyes narrowed as he studied the scarecrow. "Birds… not smart?"

Athan shook his head. "Not like us. They just see shape, feel danger, go away."

Wade grunted, scratching his chin. He looked at the scarecrow again, then at the field. "Good. Protect food."

Athan nodded. "Yes. Seeds grow better with no birds."

Wade stood silent for a moment, then gave a small nod of understanding. Without another word, he turned and walked away, the others following as they resumed their work on the wall.

Athan watched them go for a moment before shifting his focus back to the fields.

Kneeling down, he ran his fingers through the soil, feeling its texture. The earth was still damp from the previous watering, meaning he wouldn't need to activate the irrigation system this morning. That left him with another task to complete.

His gaze moved to the three empty parcels he had cleared the previous day. Walking toward them, he reached into his supply of seeds, inspecting what he had left. A sigh escaped him—only two types of seeds remained. The others had already been planted across the various parcels. Without hesitation, he set to work, carefully sowing the remaining two types into the first two parcels, making sure to space them properly and cover them with soil.

As he finished, his attention shifted to the last, untouched plot of land. He frowned slightly, contemplating what to do with it. With no more seed varieties available, he needed to think of another use for the space. His mind worked through possibilities as he stood there, hands resting on his knees, the morning sun casting long shadows over the freshly turned soil.

Not having any new ideas, he decided that it could wait. Instead, his thoughts turned to the next important task at hand—teaching his mother and Lara how to write. The boy resolved to spend the rest of the day preparing everything they would need for the lesson. Before continuing, he made sure to write down the changes in his notebook regarding the field, carefully noting the soil conditions and the progress of the crops.

First, he focused on crafting proper materials. He gathered smooth bark and began refining it, scraping and pressing it until it was flat enough to serve as writing surfaces. For the ink, he remade the same mixture he had used before—grinding charcoal into fine powder using his mortar and pestle, then slowly adding water to create a thick, dark liquid. He carefully poured the fresh ink into two newly crafted containers, ensuring they were well-sealed to prevent drying. Each step was done with precision, knowing that a good supply of ink would be essential for continued practice.

For the pens, he selected wooden sticks that fit comfortably in the hand, ensuring they were smooth and easy to grip. At the tip of each, he carefully inserted a sharpened fish bone, securing it tightly so that it could be dipped into the ink and used for writing. The fine, rigid point of the bone would allow for precise markings, making the writing process more efficient. He tested each tool meticulously, ensuring the ink flowed well from the tip without blotting or smudging.

By the time the sun was beginning to lower, everything was ready—fresh ink, two new well-sealed containers to store it, sturdy writing instruments reinforced with fish bone tips, and smooth bark sheets for practice. His first two students would each have their own set, crafted with the same care and attention as his own. 

Using one of the larger sheets of bark paper, he carefully traced the alphabet, ensuring each symbol was clearly formed. He planned to have his mother and Lara copy the symbols by drawing them in the dirt near the fire, where they could practice repeatedly without wasting materials. This method would allow them to familiarize themselves with each shape, gradually memorizing them through repetition. He intended for them to continue until they could recall and replicate the symbols from memory, ensuring a solid foundation before moving on to more complex writing exercises. 

The boy stood up from the ground, dusting himself off before repositioning himself in front of the sturdy tree trunk. Taking a deep breath, he gripped his slingshot tightly, determined to continue his training. This was becoming a habit, one he knew he needed if he was ever going to improve his aim.

Selecting a smooth, well-weighted stone from his small collection, he placed it into the leather pouch, pulling back the tendon string as he narrowed his focus on the target. The muscles in his arm tensed as he adjusted his angle, keeping his breath steady before releasing.

The stone flew through the air, whistling slightly before striking the bark—not exactly where he had aimed. He frowned slightly but didn't let the disappointment settle. Instead, he reached for another stone and repeated the process.

Each shot carried a lesson. He adjusted his grip, his stance, the tension in his pull. He analyzed how each stone traveled, how the weight affected the arc, and how even the smallest shift in his fingers altered the direction. He was determined. If he was going to use this as a means of protection or hunting in the future, he had to become proficient.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the field, Athan continued his routine, his mind fully absorbed in the rhythm of practice and precision. 

As Lara announced that the meal was ready, Athan joined the line with the others. Dinner, as usual, was a hearty stew, its rich aroma wafting through the camp. When he took his first bite, he found the flavor to be particularly well-balanced, the combination of herbs and meat blending perfectly.

Turning to Lara with a small smile, he complimented her. "Good. Tastes nice."

Lara's eyes lit up slightly, a quiet pride showing on her face. "Used more herbs. Meat cook slow."

Athan nodded. "Can tell. Makes stew better."

Lara didn't say much more, but the soft smile on her lips spoke for her. Cooking for the tribe was a big task, but knowing her work was noticed made it feel worth it.

Nearby, Wade, much like last time, was about to make a comment. His mouth opened, a smirk forming on his face. However, before he could utter a single word, Rael was faster.

With practiced ease, she delivered a sharp jab to his side with her small fist—quick, precise, efficient.

A short, pained yelp escaped Wade as he stumbled slightly, shooting her a look of mild betrayal. "Ow."

Rael, unbothered, kept eating. Her neutral expression made it clear—whatever he was about to say, she didn't want to hear it.

Wade huffed but wisely chose to remain silent, rubbing his side as he focused on his meal.

The rest of the tribe, having witnessed the exchange, smirked knowingly but said nothing, letting the moment pass as they continued eating.

After the meal, Rael and Lara sat in front of Athan, who handed each of them a straight branch to use for practice. The rest of the clan sat a little farther away, but some, driven by curiosity, moved closer to listen.

To begin, Athan unrolled a large piece of bark where he had carefully inscribed the alphabet. Holding it up for them to see, he explained, "These are letters. Each one is important for writing. To start, we will say them out loud together. This is 'A'..."

He slowly went through the alphabet, enunciating each letter clearly and waiting for them to repeat after him. Rael and Lara followed along, their voices hesitant at first but growing more confident with each repetition.

Once they were familiar with the sounds, Athan instructed them to trace the symbols into the sand in front of the fire, using their sticks as makeshift writing tools. "We will do this every evening until you know the symbols by heart," he said patiently.

He carefully guided them through the process, correcting their strokes when needed and encouraging them to say each letter aloud as they wrote it. His patience never wavered, knowing that repetition was the key to mastering something new.

As the night stretched on, the flickering firelight illuminated their determined expressions, marking the beginning of something new—written knowledge passed down through careful instruction. 

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Rael and Lara exchanged glances from time to time, gradually grasping that this was the foundation of writing, just as Athan had told them. However, a lingering question gnawed at both women—how did the boy know this? No one had ever taught him how to write, so how was he able to teach them? Was he making it up as he went?

Their eyes, filled with curiosity and silent questioning, stayed focused on the symbols they traced in the dirt, their hands carefully drawing each one while repeating its name aloud. They followed the strokes, mimicking Athan's instructions, slowly committing the symbols to memory. Though it was still foreign to them, the more they repeated the letters, the more natural it became.

After about an hour of practice, Athan finally decided they had done enough for the night. "That's enough for today," he said, watching as both women straightened their backs, their fingers slightly dirtied from their writing practice.

Lara, still processing everything, glanced at him thoughtfully before her expression shifted. "Sing again, like before?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation.

Hearing her request, the others in the group perked up, murmuring amongst themselves. The moment the word 'sing' was spoken, more members of the tribe began to gather, their curiosity reignited as they moved closer, eager to listen once more.

The boy, still embarrassed, nodded in agreement but suddenly had an idea. Turning to the men, he gestured for them to follow him a short distance away. Once they were gathered, he explained his plan: he wanted them to follow the melody by making deep humming sounds, using the air expelled from their lungs to create a resonating vibration.

He demonstrated by whistling a simple rising and falling tune, encouraging the men to join in by producing a deep "Mmmmmh" sound that mirrored the melody's flow. At first, their voices were uneven, hesitant, but with each attempt, the sound became richer, their chests vibrating as they synchronized. The rhythmic hum carried through the air, blending with the night's stillness.

Once the men felt confident in their harmony, they returned to the fire where the women were waiting, their eyes filled with curiosity. Athan took his place in front of them, inhaled deeply, and began to whistle just as they had practiced. The men followed, their voices deep and steady, resonating from their chests, forming a foundation of sound that filled the clearing.

As the melody took shape, Athan seamlessly transitioned into singing, his voice rising and falling like waves on the ocean, carrying the harmony forward. The men, now fully immersed, followed his lead, their voices weaving together like the wind through the trees. Their deep hums resonated through their chests, creating a powerful, unified vibration that pulsed in the night air. Each sound, each voice, layered upon the other, forming something raw, something alive. For the first time, they felt truly connected—not just as a tribe, but as one entity breathing in perfect rhythm.

It was no longer just a song—it was a force, a heartbeat of voices that pulled them together in a way words never could. Their bodies instinctively swayed to the cadence, their breaths synchronized as if bound by an invisible thread. Some of the men felt their arms tingle, their skin rising in goosebumps, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of the sensation. Others closed their eyes, letting the sound guide them, feeling a warmth spread through their limbs like the embers of the fire before them.

The women, seated in front of them, were equally entranced. A shiver ran down Lara's spine, her breath caught in her throat as the deep, primal tones of their clansmen's voices filled the air. The song stirred something deep within them, something they had never felt before—an emotion without name, an unspoken understanding that transcended simple sound. Their hearts beat faster, their fingers curled into the dirt beneath them as they listened, mesmerized by the harmony of their people's voices woven together into something ancient, something sacred.

As the final hum lingered in the air, fading into the crackling fire and the whispering wind, silence stretched between them all, heavy yet full. No one spoke. No one moved. They simply sat, basking in the aftershock of the moment, feeling the connection still humming between them, unbroken and everlasting. 

Smiling at the success of their song, the boy declared that it was now time to sleep. Gathering his things, he made his way to his bedding, settling in for the night, completely unaware that the song had ignited something behind him.

The women, their eyes dark with something new, devoured their men with their gazes. One by one, they stood, silently taking their partners by the hand and leading them away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, far from the watchful eyes of the tribe. The air crackled with an unspoken energy, primal and undeniable.

Lara, however, remained where she sat, unmoving, her emerald eyes fixed on Athan as he retreated to his sleeping place. A certainty settled deep within her—there would be no other for her. She had chosen. He was hers, even if he did not know it yet.

Instead of following the others into the night, she remained by the fire, tending to the embers as distant sounds of wild passion resonated through the darkness. The flames flickered, casting shifting shadows, but her mind was steady, her resolve unwavering. She would wait—for him, for the right time. For now, she watched over the fire, her heart beating in rhythm with the song that still lingered in the air.

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The next morning, Athan woke in a good mood, stretching as he sat up. Looking around, he noticed that only Lara was awake, tending to the fire. The rest of the tribe remained in deep slumber, completely still despite the powerful rays of the sun bathing the camp in golden light.

Frowning slightly, Athan wondered what was going on. It was unusual for everyone to sleep in so late. Then he reasoned that they had been physically working harder over the past few days—much more than before, when their daily routine mostly consisted of walking through the forest in search of food. The strain of construction and farming had taken its toll.

Shrugging off the thought, he went about his morning routine. Heading to the fields, he checked the moisture of the soil. Some areas seemed a bit dry, so he activated the irrigation system, watching as the water slowly filled the pathways. While waiting for the channels to distribute the water evenly, he scooped some into his hands and splashed it over his face, the coolness refreshing him fully.

Once the watering was done, he closed the system and took a step back, observing the fields. His scarecrow was standing tall, and from what he could tell, it seemed to be doing its job. No fresh disturbances in the soil meant the birds had kept their distance. Satisfied, he made his way back to his bedding and picked up his map before heading toward the wall.

As he neared the structure, his eyes widened in astonishment. The speed at which the wall was progressing was beyond what he had expected. They had already completed two sections past the designated door area he had discussed with his father. The realization filled him with excitement.

With renewed enthusiasm, he decided it was time to shift his focus. Today, his main task would be planning and constructing the door—it was going to be his project for the day and maybe tomorrow, and he was eager to get started. 

Inspecting the way they had finished the walls on either side, Athan nodded to himself in satisfaction. Now, he needed to design a door that could open and close without hinges. The method he had in mind was to allow the frame to rotate within a set of wooden sockets positioned at the top and bottom of the doorway. If he carved them properly and fixed them securely, the door would pivot smoothly on these points, allowing it to swing open and shut as needed.

Using a sturdy branch to take measurements, he walked over to the pile of logs awaiting processing. He carefully selected one that was straight and strong enough for the structure. Grabbing his wooden mallet and sharpened stakes, he began the laborious process of splitting the log into planks, each about six centimeters thick. His arms strained with each strike, the repetitive motion sending small vibrations through his hands. The sound of wood cracking filled the air as he continued, ensuring each plank was as even as possible.

Once he had made several planks, he set them aside and retrieved his hatchet, focusing on refining the edges and ensuring they were uniform. He methodically worked to straighten them, making sure they would fit together seamlessly when assembled into the door.

As he worked, he gradually noticed movement around the camp. Members of the clan were finally stirring, some stretching, others rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Despite their groggy appearances, the men seemed particularly cheerful this morning, their expressions relaxed. As they passed Athan, they greeted him warmly, offering smiles and nods of acknowledgment. Even though they still looked like they could use more sleep—and a large breakfast—it was clear that the previous night's events had left them in high spirits. 

The boy, happy to be acknowledged, felt a renewed sense of motivation. It seemed like everyone particularly enjoyed the chorus from last night. Perhaps, if they made it a habit to sing together every evening, the group would grow even closer. It was an exciting thought for Athan—music could serve as more than just entertainment; it could become a way to strengthen their bonds. The idea lingered in his mind, making him consider exploring music further in the future.

With his head full of future projects, Athan refocused on the task at hand—constructing the door. Taking his knife, he stripped the bark from four logs, ensuring they had the right dimensions to serve as the door's frame. He carefully positioned the planks alongside the future frame, then began carving precise grooves into the wood. These notches would allow the planks to fit securely into place, forming a solid structure.

Once the grooves were finished, he used his bow drill to bore holes into different sections of the frame, ensuring they aligned perfectly. Assembling all the pieces together, he inserted wooden pegs into the pre-made holes, locking the entire door into a single, sturdy block. It was the best he could do for now, given that nails or metal fasteners were beyond their current capabilities.

Satisfied with his work, Athan stood back and examined the door. It was solid, well-constructed. He took careful measurements and carried them over to the doorframe in the wall to ensure everything would fit properly. Knowing he needed a second door for the opposite side, he immediately began the process again, crafting a mirror image of the first one.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the boy worked tirelessly, determined to complete both doors before the day was done. As the final piece was hammered into place, he stepped back to inspect his work, wiping the sweat from his brow. The door stood sturdy, just as he had envisioned, and a sense of satisfaction settled over him.

Glancing at the sky, he realized that if he wanted enough time to practice with his slingshot before the evening meal, he needed to finish up quickly. Setting the door aside for installation the next day, he hurried toward the fields, his sharp eyes scanning the area.

Not a single bird had come today. His scarecrow had done its job well. Nodding in approval, he activated the watering system, watching as the channels filled with water, feeding the soil that would nourish their crops. As the water trickled through the pathways, he scooped a handful and splashed it over his face, letting the coolness refresh him after his long hours of work.

A smile tugged at his lips. Every day, he was creating something new—something that made their lives better. It gave him a deep sense of purpose, and as he dried his hands, he felt eager to move on to his next task, knowing that each effort brought the tribe one step closer to a stronger future.

Before he could proceed with his training, Lara walked up to him, looking disheartened. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, frustration clear in her voice.

"Athan… trap broke." She frowned. "Went for fish. Cords got loose. Most swam away. Only big one stayed—too big to escape."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Tried to fix. Wood too soft now. Water made weak."

Athan listened, nodding. He had expected this—the trap wasn't meant to last forever. Water had loosened the cords, soaked into the wood, made it weak.

"Not your fault," he said simply. "Water does that."

Lara kicked a small rock near her foot. "Need new one?"

Athan exhaled. "Yes. I make better one."

Without delay, he set to work, gathering sturdy twigs and fresh cord to reconstruct it. He meticulously shaped the framework, weaving the twigs tightly together, reinforcing them with extra bindings to ensure greater durability. Once the main structure was secure, he blocked the largest opening with a solid piece of bark, ensuring that only the intended entry remained functional.

As he worked, he made mental notes on how he could improve future traps—thicker wood, stronger bindings. This one had to be tested carefully, strong enough to withstand the river's constant push.

After a while, Lara called everyone for the meal. As Athan made his way to his father, he pointed at the new trap.

"Can you set it for the night?"

Wade gave it a quick glance before nodding. "Yes." Taking the newly crafted trap, he headed toward the river to secure it before the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

With that settled, Athan turned back to the food line, collecting two bowls before approaching Lara. He handed one to her.

"Trap's done. Father's setting it now."

Lara's eyes lit up with relief. "Good. Thank you, Athan." A big smile spread across her face as she handed him his portion.

For a moment, she simply watched him, gratitude clear in her expression. Then, without another word, she turned back to serve the next person in line.

With his meal in hand, Athan stepped aside, feeling a quiet sense of fulfillment—not just from his work but from the trust and reliance the tribe was starting to place in him.

The boy waited for his father, standing to the side. A couple of minutes later, Wade returned, spotting Athan before walking over to him. Taking his bowl, Wade glanced at his son.

"Old trap broke?"

Athan nodded. "Yes. Lara said water loosened the cord, so I made a new one."

Wade gave an approving nod. "Fish trap need strong. Good fish for meal."

Then, before Athan could respond, Wade placed a firm but gentle hand on his head, ruffling his hair slightly.

"You do good work. Continue," he said with a rare smile before turning to his meal.

After the meal, Athan, Rael, and Lara began practicing letters on the ground again. But before they could truly start, Medi, Fi, Nat, and Meg approached.

"Can learn too?" Medi asked, eyes filled with curiosity.

Athan looked up, surprised, then smiled. "Yes. Sit here." He quickly made space for them.

Rael gave a small nod. "More learn, better."

Athan picked up a stick and drew a letter in the dirt. "Watch first. Then you try."

Lara, already holding a stick, smirked. "Easy."

Fi frowned slightly. "Not easy. Look hard."

Athan chuckled. "Slow first. Try like this." He demonstrated the strokes again, making sure they could follow.

Each of them took a sturdy branch and began tracing in the dirt, some more hesitant than others.

Nat scratched her head. "Mine bad."

Meg glanced at her own shaky lines. "Mine too."

Rael, watching them, gave a small reassuring smile. "Not bad. Just start."

Medi, biting her lip in concentration, tried again. "Like this?"

Athan nodded. "Yes. Good. Keep going."

The group continued practicing, their focus deep, as the flickering firelight cast long shadows over their hands and the letters they shaped in the dirt.

As they worked, Athan moved between them, correcting their forms and encouraging them to repeat each symbol aloud. The new learners were slower, their lines wobbly, but they were determined, following his guidance with growing confidence. The flickering fire cast long shadows over the practice area, their focused expressions illuminated by its glow.

Once the studying session was over, a different kind of anticipation filled the air. The group of women exchanged glances before turning toward Athan, their eyes gleaming with expectation. "Sing again?" one of them asked, and soon the others were nodding in agreement, their excitement evident.

Athan turned to look at the men, who also seemed eager to repeat the chorus from the night before. Their expressions carried a sense of excitement and pride, as if the act of singing had become something more than just a sound—it was an experience they wanted to relive.

Sighing, but unable to hide his own satisfaction, Athan stepped toward the group of men and began whistling the familiar tune. The men joined in almost instantly, their deep voices humming in unison, their chests vibrating as the sound resonated through the air.

This time, the song carried even more strength than before. Their voices rose with intensity, filling the night with a raw, powerful harmony that pulsed like a living force. The firelight danced against their faces as they sang, the rhythm pulling them in, their bodies instinctively swaying with the melody.

The women sat spellbound, their eyes locked on the men, their bodies reacting to the sound in a way they could not fully explain. Goosebumps spread across their skin as the depth of the song reached them, stirring emotions they had never felt so strongly before. The connection between the singers and the listeners was undeniable—woven together through sound, breath, and unspoken understanding. 

As the previous night, the boy returned to his bedding after the chorus. But tonight, he did not fall asleep as quickly. His gaze lingered, puzzled, as he watched the women of the group take their men by the hand and disappear into the forest. The only one who remained was Lara, tending to the fire.

Confused by what was happening, Athan sat up, his curiosity getting the better of him. After a moment of hesitation, he stood and made his way toward Lara, intent on asking her what was going on.

"Why they go in forest? We no go?" Athan asked, still not understanding what was happening.

Lara turned toward him, her emerald eyes widening in surprise as her face flushed red with embarrassment. She opened her mouth as if to respond, but no words came out immediately. Instead, she glanced away, her fingers fidgeting near the fire.

At that moment, a distinct sound carried through the night from the direction where Ok, Medi, and Fi had disappeared. Athan's ears perked up, his curiosity deepening as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

The sounds triggered something in his memory... but Athan's thoughts came to a sudden halt. Completely dumbfounded, he stared toward the forest, realization dawning on him. His wide eyes shifted to Lara, who was still visibly flustered, before flickering back to the trees.

From different directions beyond the clearing, distinct noises reached his ears—sounds that left no room for misinterpretation. A chorus of activity, each voice coming from a separate part of the woods.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Should he laugh? Should he be horrified? His mind raced as he grasped the full implications of what had just happened.

The tribe... was using his song as a mating call.

Before he could recover from his shock, he heard Lara's voice, small and uncertain. "You... want to... with me? But..." Her gaze flickered over him from head to toe before she hesitated, then continued, "You still small to..."

Athan stared at her with wide eyes, his breath catching. The realization hit him—she was almost willing to go through with it right then and there. Her emerald eyes locked onto his, filled with a yearning that left no doubt about what the song had stirred within her. The effect was undeniable.

His heart pounded, his body tense as he felt the weight of the moment pressing on him. His lips parted, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away as he bit his lower lip. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his fists and willed himself to regain control.

"No," he finally muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly, breaking the spell. He had to steady himself. This wasn't the time. This wasn't right.

Lara blinked, watching him, her breath shallow. But she didn't push. Instead, she averted her gaze, her expression unreadable as she turned back toward the fire, the embers reflecting in her eyes.

Looking into her eyes, he said softly, "Lara, I'm sorry, but my body is not ready for that yet. We need to wait until it is, all right?" He wasn't sure what else to say, his voice hesitant, unsure how to ease the tension between them.

Lara searched his face, her expression shifting as uncertainty clouded her features. "You... not want me?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with sadness, as if fearing rejection.

The boy felt panic creeping in and quickly responded, "No, I do want you, of course! But I'm still too small for that, Lara. We wait, and then... when I'm ready, we can do that too. As much as you want."

Lara looked into his eyes for a moment, as if searching for something. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips. "That's all right. Go sleep, grow tall."

The boy nodded before hurrying back to his bedding, eager to bury himself under his furs and escape the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his mind. He shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to sleep, but rest would not come easily tonight. His thoughts spun, replaying the conversation, the intensity in Lara's eyes, the weight of his own words.

Meanwhile, by the fire, Lara remained seated, her emerald eyes flickering with the glow of the flames. She watched Athan for a long moment, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. Her heart beat steadily, her mind replaying his words.

"So… he does want me," she thought to herself, feeling warmth spread through her chest.

She poked at the fire absently, letting the embers dance into the air, her resolve only growing stronger. For now, she would wait. But someday, he would grow, and when that day came, she would be ready.