The Recovery

18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUf93EPsObt

For a while, my days were measured in cups.

Warm water. Bitter medicine. Broth, if Bone had anything to say about it.

Then I'd sleep until someone decided it was time for another cup.

Usually, I woke up coughing.

Sometimes I managed to turn onto my side before it started. Other times, Raven’s hand was already behind my shoulders, helping me lean forward while I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for my lungs to finish trying to force themselves out of my chest.

There never seemed to be anything I could do to help it. Trying to hold it in made it worse. Breathing too deeply made it worse. By the time I managed to draw a proper breath, I was generally too tired to appreciate it.

“Here.”

A cup of warm water would appear beneath my nose.

Raven always kept one hand around it, even when I thought I could manage on my own. She never hurried me, waiting through the short pauses I'd take when swallowing seemed like more effort than it should have been.

Then came the medicine.

I had started to recognize that cup before it ever reached me.

“No…” I murmured, turning away from it.

Raven looked down at the cup, then back at me.

“You haven’t even tasted it yet,” she pointed out.

“I remember.”

I sensed the smile that crossed her face. “That’s unfortunate.”

She helped me sit a little higher.

Whatever Blaze's High Mountain remedy was had the impressive ability to remain bitter long after I’d swallowed it. Water barely helped. Broth somehow made it worse. I could have probably eaten an entire meal and still found it lurking somewhere at the back of my tongue.

It did soothe my throat, though, and I resented that.

Once I'd managed to get the medicine down, Raven would help me settle against the bedding again, drawing the pelts over my shoulders, and brushing the damp hair away from my forehead before telling me to sleep again.

I wanted to point out that I hadn't been doing much else lately.

I usually fell asleep before I could.

Rain visited often enough that I started waking to the sound of his voice without remembering when he’d entered the hut. He'd ask about my breathing, watch me drink, then move to check on my fever and my breathing for himself.

“Again,” he said once, after asking me to take a deeper breath.

I gave him a tired look.

He waited.

I tried again, coughed, and then spent the next little while wishing he had a different method of monitoring my condition.

Bone’s visits were easier to handle.

They smelled better, too.

He'd hold onto a bowl of his stew while I took the first few mouthfuls. When I paused, he waited. When I insisted I’d had enough, he'd challenge me.

“One more bite.”

That's all he'd ever ask of me. One more bite.

Once I'd taken another, he'd let me lie back down, seemingly satisfied with whatever I had been able to manage.

Blaze was harder to keep track of.

I often woke to find him posted somewhere near the bed, his silver-grey hair and the pale fur of his tail bright in the firelight. Sometimes he'd vanish from sight while the others worked around me. He had a particular habit of disappearing whenever Bone would approach.

When he stayed, his tail had a habit of ending up close to my hand.

I had developed a habit of trying to find it.

The first time I noticed myself doing it, my fingers were already buried in the thick fur near the tip. I couldn’t remember reaching for it.

Blaze turned away from the firepit, looking at me from over his shoulder. He watched me for a moment before turning back again.

I took that as permission.

On another occasion, I had barely touched him before the tail slid out from beneath my hand.

I frowned at the empty patch of bedding.

A moment later, it landed across my wrist.

I looked toward him.

He didn't acknowledge it.

There wasn’t much to do with that, so I left my hand where it was.

In between all of it, I slept.

The fire burned low and was built up again. Sometimes Raven would lie beside me, then she'd be sitting, then she'd be helping me drink. Once, I woke up and saw pale light peeking through the entrance. The next time I looked, it was dark.

I couldn’t tell whether I had slept through a full day or merely opened my eyes before dusk.

Eventually, it started to bother me.

“How long have I been here?” I asked.

Raven set the cup in her hands aside and turned back to me.

For the first time, I noticed how tired she looked.

“Six days,” she said.

I stared at her. “Since the storm?”

Raven nodded.

I tried to fit six days into what I remembered. There was Blaze with the medicine. Bone with the stew. Rain asking questions I was fairly sure I’d answered already.

And Raven.

Aside from helping the far-hunters, she had always been somewhere within reach.

My mind reeled. “I thought…”

I stopped.

“What?” Raven asked, leaning forward. “How long did you think it had been?”

“I don’t know… Three, maybe?”

Her fingers smoothed a fold in the pelt covering my chest.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot,” she pointed out.

Apparently…

I looked at her more closely. Shadows had gathered beneath her eyes. Several strands of hair had worked their way loose from her hands nervously running through it, and her hunched posture made her look heavy and tired.

“Have you?” I asked.

She paused. “I have a little.”

That wasn’t particularly reassuring.

“Raven, you should sleep.”

She glanced at me. “So should you.”

“I think I've done enough for both of us.”

A small smile formed on her lips, but it faded as I moved to make room beside me.

It took considerably more effort than I’d hoped it would. My elbow sank into the bedding, my chest pulled tightly, and I had to stop halfway through to cough.

Raven kept a hand against my back as she waited.

By the time I'd settled again, I had gained just enough that there was room for her.

She eased down beside me, being mindful of the bedding as she drew part of the pelt over her legs. I could feel the warmth of her shoulder against mine as we tried to make ourselves comfortable.

Somewhere nearby, I heard Blaze let out a long breath through his nose.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

I watched Raven’s hand as it smoothed out the surface of the pelt.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Her fingers went still.

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” she told me.

I didn’t remember saying it.

Apparently, I had.

Several times, according to Raven.

She turned her hand over, and I slipped mine into it.

“Well,” I said. “In case I forgot anything…”

Her thumb moved gently over my knuckles.

“Sleep, David.”

I wanted to stay awake until I knew she had fallen asleep first.

I didn’t manage it.

The next time I awoke, my tunic clung unpleasantly to my back.

For a moment, I lay there trying to decide whether moving was worth the effort. Then I shifted my shoulder and felt the damp linen pull against my skin.

Raven stirred beside me.

“What is it?” she muttered.

I grimaced. “I’m wet.”

She pushed herself upright and touched my forehead. Her palm lingered there before moving to my cheek.

I watched her expression change.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Raven responded, shaking her head. “Hold still.”

She found a dry cloth and helped me sit up. I shivered when the pelt slipped from my shoulders, even though the hut was warm.

Between us, we managed to get the damp shirt off and a dry one over my head. I contributed mostly by lifting my arms when asked and trying not to cough directly into her face.

Afterward, she changed the cloth beneath my head and settled the pelts around me again.

Her hand returned to my forehead.

“Better?” she asked.

“I think so…” I said with an exhausted breath.

Beneath my response, my tone remained cautious.

At the very least, I didn't feel completely soaked anymore. That made settling in again a lot easier.

But when Raven lay down beside me again, her hand lingered against my chest for a while.

I rested my hand over hers and closed my eyes.

Sleep came in shorter stretches after that. Once, I woke up coughing, rousing Raven from her sleep beside me. Another time, I opened my eyes to find her sound asleep, her hand still resting loosely beneath mine.

I left it there.

When I woke again, light was showing around the entrance. Raven had moved to the fire, and I could hear voices outside. I lay still for a moment, grateful that my tunic was dry and that swallowing wasn't quite as difficult.

Then the hide lifted, and Rain stepped into the hut.

Raven met him before he reached the bed. They exchanged a few quiet words before his eyes moved over to me.

I had a feeling I was about to be asked to breathe again.

He crouched beside me, waited while Raven helped me sit up once more, and handed me some water before resting a hand against my forehead.

This time, he seemed pleased with what he found.

“Your fever is down.”

I glanced at him from over the rim of my cup.

“Does that mean I can stop drinking the horrible stuff?” I asked.

His response was immediate. “No.”

“You could have let me enjoy that for a moment.”

He ignored my grumbling complaint and instructed me to breathe in.

It still caught. I still coughed. By the time he finished listening, I had started to suspect that it was going to be an unreasonably long time before I could officially be considered better.

Eventually, Rain gave Raven a small nod. Her shoulders relaxed, and I found myself breathing a little easier, too.

Only after he’d gone did I realize I hadn’t struggled to stay awake through any of it.

It wasn’t much, but after six days of falling asleep immediately after half my conversations, I was willing to count it as progress.

As Raven went to warm more water, I leaned my head back and let my hand drift across the bedding.

My fingers found the edge of a folded pelt.

I moved them a little farther.

Nothing.

I turned my head.

The space beside the bed was empty.

For a few moments, I simply looked at it. More of the hut was visible than I was used to seeing. Nobody was occupying the spot at the foot of the bed or the open space directly at my side.

“Where’s Blaze?” I asked.

Raven glanced back at me from the fire.

“He left earlier while you were asleep,” she said.

I looked toward the entrance.

When I thought about it, I couldn't find any reason for him to stay. My fever had gone down. He had his own hut. Duties that he probably needed to tend to. There were probably a number of ways he'd rather spend his time than just sitting nearby while I coughed and messed with his tail.

Still, I didn’t think he'd leave so soon.

I took a careful sip.

The last time I had seen him before the snowstorm, I had lashed out at him for trying to interrogate me. Since then, he had carried me out of the snow, brought a personal remedy that soothed my throat and made the coughing hurt less, and he had let me bury my fingers in his fur.

I wasn’t sure what to do with all of that.

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

Raven shook her head.

I nodded once before deciding to let the matter go.

After a moment, she settled beside me again.

I leaned against her shoulder and listened to the fire.

It took me longer than it should have to stop expecting the brush of a tail against my wrist.

By the time Bone arrived with food, I had developed a new ailment. Boredom.

There was only so much of the hut to look at. I had counted the larger pieces of wood beside the fire twice, listened to Raven sort through a basket, and spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to straighten a fold in the bedding beneath my hip.

The fold had won.

When the hide covering the entrance lifted, I looked up with more enthusiasm than a bowl of food typically warranted.

Bone ducked inside and pulled the covering into place behind him. Snow clung to one shoulder. He brushed it off with a short, sharp movement, then stood for a moment with his jaw set.

“Is something wrong?” Raven asked him.

He glanced at her.

Then at me.

“Nothing that needs to be dealt with here,” he replied.

He crossed the hut and lowered himself next to the bed. The bowl stayed steady in his hand, though the muscles along his jaw shifted again.

I watched him.

“Did someone insult your stew?” I asked, hoping to ease the tension slightly.

His eyes met mine.

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

Then he let out a breath. “Would you have defended it if they had?”

“I’d need to try it first.”

He snorted. “Convenient…”

He waited while Raven helped me sit back up, then placed the bowl where I could reach it. His hand stayed beneath mine until he was sure I had a proper hold.

“Careful,” he warned. “It’s hot.”

I took a small mouthful.

It was good. Warm, thick enough to feel like actual food, and blessedly seasoned with just the slightest bit of salt.

Bone watched until I swallowed.

“Well?” he asked.

I smiled. “I’d defend it.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, but when he leaned back, the smile disappeared. He rubbed a hand over his face, then glanced toward the entrance.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

Bone frowned. “I had a conversation…”

“Sounds like it went well.”

His eyes narrowed. “It ended.”

Raven looked at him from over my shoulder. Whatever passed between them was brief enough that I couldn’t make much of it.

Bone nodded toward the bowl. “Eat, while it’s still warm.”

I took another mouthful. I considered pressing him, but by the time I'd swallowed it, the conversation had moved on to asking whether Rain had been by.

He stayed until I had eaten more than I expected to manage. When I finally lowered the bowl, he took it without arguing.

I expected to fall asleep after that. Eating usually finished whatever work the medicine and the coughing fits had started.

Instead, I remained awake while Bone asked Raven whether she needed anything before he left. She assured him we had enough, though he checked the wood beside the fire anyway.

Some of the tightness had left his face by the time he ducked back out through the entrance. I still wondered what sort of conversation might have caused it, but it seemed asking would have to wait.

“Do you want to lie down?” Raven asked, approaching the bed.

“Not yet,” I told her.

She adjusted the folded pelts behind my shoulders, and I settled back against them. My arms felt heavy, but the food had left a comfortable warmth in my stomach. For once, I wasn’t struggling to keep my eyes open.

I watched her tidy the things that had gathered beside the bed. Cups, a cloth, the medicine I was hoping she might forget about.

Bunny lay tucked beside one of the pelts.

My eyes lingered on him.

“Has Shade been all right?” I asked.

Raven followed my glance.

“Echo’s been keeping him busy,” she said.

I nodded. I was glad there was someone who could do that. At the moment, sitting through a meal seemed to be about the limit of what I could offer.

“Hopefully, he’s having a more interesting time than I am,” I remarked.

Raven's mouth curled into a small smile as she carried the cups toward the fire. I let my head rest against the bedding and listened to her moving around the hut, waiting to see if sleep would finally catch up with me.

Then a familiar voice sounded outside.

“Can I go in now?”

“You can,” a quieter voice answered from just beyond the entrance. “Slowly.”

The hide over the doorway lifted, and Shade appeared from behind it. Echo followed closely behind him.

He stopped when he saw me.

I turned toward him and smiled.

“Hey.”

His expression brightened, but he remained where he stood near the entrance. Echo rested a hand between his shoulders, and he glanced up at her before looking back at me.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked carefully.

I shrugged. “A little.”

He studied my face with such seriousness that I resisted the urge to straighten.

“I’m getting very tired of lying here,” I admitted.

That seemed to reassure him more.

He looked toward Raven.

“You can come over,” she said. “Just be gentle.”

Shade crossed the remaining distance between us quickly, then slowed abruptly beside the bed. He looked down at my fingers as I extended a hand to him.

Slowly, he reached up and wrapped both of his hands around it.

“You’re not as hot,” he commented, feeling my palms.

I smiled down at him. “That sounds like an improvement to me.”

Raven helped him settle beside me, letting him lean against my arm without climbing onto my chest. He was quiet for a moment, pressed so close to me that I could feel his warmth through the sleeve of my tunic.

Then I remembered.

“Oh. There’s someone else here for you.”

Shade followed my eyes as I looked toward the edge of the bedding.

Raven reached beside the folded pelts and brought out Bunny.

His face brightened as he took the toy, turning over in his hands multiple times before hugging it against his chest.

“He’s been putting in a lot of hard work lately,” I stated.

Shade looked up at me. “To help make you feel better?”

I nodded.

His shoulder settled more firmly against mine.

Echo sat near the fire while Raven handed me another cup of water.

For a little while, I listened as Shade told me about his time staying with her.

He had helped her clear the snow that had built up against the entrance to her hut. There had also been a mystery surrounding a missing mitten, though his explanation of where it had gone became considerably less certain when Echo looked at him.

“It was under the bedding,” she remarked.

Shade fidgeted with one of Bunny’s ears. “I found it…”

“Eventually.”

I smiled into my cup.

It was good to hear about something as mundane as a lost mitten.

It was even better to have Shade beside me again while he explained why losing it hadn’t really been his fault.

By the time he finished, my throat was beginning to tickle again. I turned away to cough, and his chatter immediately stopped.

Raven took the cup out of my hand before I could spill it. She handed it back to me once the coughing passed.

When I turned back, Shade was watching me.

“Still working on that part,” I said, taking a deep breath.

He nodded, but stayed quiet. The conversation recovered after I asked Echo if she had made him help look for the mitten.

Eventually, Shade became occupied with arranging Bunny beneath a corner of the pelt. I watched him tuck it in, then looked toward Echo as she poured a cup of warm water for herself.

“What else has been happening?” I asked.

Echo glanced over at me. “Around the village?”

“ Anywhere ,” I groaned, sagging slightly against the pelts.

Her eyebrows rose.

“I’ve been looking at the same wall for six days,” I told her.

Echo shot me a playful smirk. “Have you tried the other wall?”

“Raven won’t help me turn the bedding around.”

Raven glanced at me. “You never asked.”

Echo smiled as she settled back where she’d been sitting.

“There has to be something,” I said, shifting against the pelts. “Somebody’s annoyed with somebody. Somebody said something they shouldn’t have…”

“Bone seemed unhappy earlier,” Raven mentioned. “He said he’d had a conversation.”

Echo lowered her cup. “Oh?”

The tone in her voice made me look up. “You know about it?”

“Well, I have a fair idea…”

“Then please.” I gestured as well as I could with Shade tucked against my arm. “Indulge me. I’ll take anything.”

Echo glanced toward Raven. Her mouth curved.

“Well…” she began. “There’s been quite a story that's been circulating amongst the far-hunters from the plains.”

I raised a brow. “About what?”

“Someone who helped bring them in during the storm.”

I waited.

Echo took another sip of water.

“Apparently, they couldn’t get a good look at him,” she continued. “Heavy furs, snow blowing everywhere… Every time they tried to bring him inside, he'd simply turn and go back out again.”

My eyes lowered.

That sounded familiar.

“One moment, he'd be helping someone carry something in,” she said, “Then they'd turn around, and he’d be gone. Then he'd reemerge from the storm again with someone else, carrying their haul.”

I looked up.

Echo was smiling at me over the rim of her cup.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, some of them have decided they know what they saw.”

“Which was?”

She lowered her cup again and leaned forward.

“The spirit of a fallen far-hunter that had come back through the storm to bring his comrades home.”

I stared at her.

Beside me, Raven went very still.

Then I heard the small, unmistakable sound of her trying not to laugh.

I turned toward her. “Don’t you dare…”

Raven pressed her lips together. “I haven’t said anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Raven let out a small chuckle.

Echo made no attempt to hide her amusement.

I looked between them.

I supposed I had asked for some gossip, and Echo was officially supplying it. I'd just hoped that it would have been gossip about somebody else.

“How did they get from someone helping them to a dead hunter?” I asked Echo.

She shrugged. “Well, nobody recognized you.”

“I was wearing a heavy coat.”

“And you kept disappearing.”

“Into the snow. To get the next person.”

“Yes. You can see how suspicious that was.”

Raven’s shoulders shook beside me.

“I guess this is what happens when you leave me alone too long,” I told her, “Apparently, I become a ghost that haunts people.”

That undid her.

She turned her face away, raising a hand to her mouth.

Echo laughed outright, the upper half of her body curling forward as she struggled to keep herself from spilling what was left of her water.

I tried to maintain some dignity.

Unfortunately, the urge to laugh brought on another cough.

Raven recovered quickly enough to take the cup from my hands, though the corners of her mouth were still betraying her when she handed it back.

“Careful,” she giggled.

“I’m trying,” I chuckled in response.

I took a sip and waited for my throat to settle.

Echo let the laughter fade before continuing.

“Not all of them believed it,” she said. “But enough were left wondering that the story began to spread. Someone had mentioned that you never spoke.”

My brow furrowed. “I spoke.”

“Apparently, not to him.”

I let what I could remember play back through my mind. I thought back to the wind, the weight of wet furs, the effort of getting one foot in front of the other.

There had probably been plenty of people I hadn’t spoken to.

Then Echo leaned forward again.

“And someone else said they saw you fall.”

My fingers tightened around my cup.

Raven noticed, and she gently rested a hand against my forearm.

Echo’s expression softened.

“He was helping another hunter into the gathering hall. He said he looked back and saw someone go down in the snow. By the time he’d got the other man inside and returned, he couldn’t find you.”

I looked toward the entrance.

I remembered trying to get up. That part came back easily enough. My hands sinking into the snow. My legs refusing to do anything useful. The terrible effort of trying to drag myself forward.

After that, there was fur.

Warmth.

A voice I hadn’t expected to hear.

“Blaze got to me first,” I said.

Echo rested her head in one of her hands. “That would explain it.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Shade shifted beside me as he continued working one of Bunny’s ears between his fingers.

I set the cup down before he could notice how carefully I was holding it.

It was a strange thing to learn. Somewhere in the part of that evening I couldn’t remember, somebody had been looking for me. They might have even passed close enough to hear me, if I’d been able to call out.

“So that settled it for them,” I concluded, looking back at Echo.

“For some of them,” she said. “A figure who appeared out of the storm, helped them get to shelter, then vanished without a trace.”

I let out a slow breath. “I suppose being carried off by a snow leopard would spoil the mystery.”

Echo shrugged again. “It would, a little.”

“So what did Bone say about it?”

“Quite a bit,” she stated as she moved closer to the fire. “I was in the hall when he heard them talking. One of them asked if there were any hunters that had gone missing in the valley.”

I tilted my head. “Missing?”

“They were trying to work out who the spirit might have been. Bone overheard and asked them to describe him.”

I could almost see it. Bone standing nearby, listening while someone explained how a dead man had carried their belongings through the storm.

His expression from that morning made considerably more sense now.

“He let them finish,” Echo said. “Then he let them know that the spirit they had seen had a name.”

Beside me, Raven’s hand went still.

“Thorn,” I murmured.

Echo nodded. “That part didn’t go over particularly well.”

I looked down at Shade. He had laid Bunny across his knees and was picking a small piece of lint from its fur.

“What did they say?” I asked.

“One thought Bone was making fun of them,” Echo replied. “Another believed he knew Thorn well enough that he would have recognized him.”

“Apparently not through all the furs.”

“Bone had mentioned that.” Echo watched me for a moment before continuing. “He told them you’d already been ill when you went out. That you kept going until you collapsed, and that Blaze found you in the snow.”

Raven looked toward the fire.

“Did he let them know how bad it was?” she asked.

“Yes.”

I waited.

Echo’s voice was quieter when she spoke again.

“He said, ‘He nearly died bringing the lot of you in. The least you can do is believe it was him.’”

The fire snapped.

I glanced toward the entrance, remembering how Bone had stood there with snow along his shoulder and his jaw clenched.

He had asked me whether I would defend his stew.

I hadn’t known he’d just finished defending me.

“What happened then?” I asked.

“People started speaking up. Some spoke about how they had seen you helping around the village. Others had heard enough from Rain or Bone to know where you’d been since the storm.” Echo paused. “And a few of them reminded them that they’d been away for a long time.”

My eyes lifted to hers.

“That you’d changed,” she clarified.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

It was true, of course. Just considerably more true than any of them realized.

“Did they believe him?” I asked.

“Some did. Some asked questions.” Her mouth tightened briefly. “A few seemed to think arguing with Bone would help their case.”

“Did it?”

Echo crossed her arms. “What do you think?”

That earned a quiet breath of laughter from Raven.

I had noticed that people watched me differently now. Sometimes they greeted me when I passed. Sometimes they let their children come close without immediately calling them back.

But those were the things I was able to see.

I hadn’t thought much about what happened when I wasn’t there.

“Anyway,” Echo said, “I suspect there’ll be fewer ghost stories by the end of the night.”

My shoulders dropped slightly. “That’s almost disappointing.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. Some of them are too fond of it to give it up so easily.”

“Wonderful.”

Suddenly, I felt Shade shift beside me.

“I knew it was you,” he said, looking up at me.

I glanced down at him.

He held Bunny against his chest. “You just wanted to help.”

My throat tightened in a way that had very little to do with the cough.

I rested my hand over his and let him lean against me for a little while.

“There is one other thing,” Echo spoke up, fixing me with a serious look. “Light heard about what you did. He would like to speak with you.”

I felt my body stiffen slightly. I hadn’t spoken with Light since we’d first met when he pulled me, Rain, and Flower into his hut. I had seen very little of the chief since that night.

For a while, I'd assumed it was because I had managed to follow his instructions. Work hard. Don't try to convince people that I was different from Thorn. Let my actions do the speaking for me.

Now, he wished to speak with me again.

“When?” I asked.

“When you’re well enough,” Echo replied. “He was very clear about that.”

I glanced over at Raven. She didn't seem all that surprised.

“Did you know?” I asked.

“Rain had mentioned something about it,” she said almost casually.

“And nobody thought to tell me?”

“You were having trouble staying awake long enough to finish a cup of water.”

“I could have worried between sips.”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you.”

Echo smiled into her cup.

I leaned my head back against the bedding.

“Do you know what he wants?”

Echo shook her head. “He didn’t say.”

That left an impressive amount of room for speculation.

Perhaps he wanted to thank me for helping the far-hunters. Perhaps he wanted to ask why I had gone into a storm while I was sick. Bone had already expressed several opinions about that decision, and I doubted the chief of the tribe would find it any more sensible.

Shade tugged lightly at my sleeve.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I said, looking down at him.

“You’re recovering,” Raven stated firmly.

I watched as she took my empty cup and set it aside.

Apparently, I had finally found something new to think about while I did so. 18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ86GoD1aUj5

88.181.249.5

ns88.181.249.5da2