Chapter 4 — Whispers Across the Border

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Chapter 4
Whispers Across the Border

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♣

The sun was already rising over the treetops, casting long shadows that swayed with the morning breeze. Fireheart, with a small sparrow hanging from his jaw, crossed the clearing towards the prey pile when his ears caught something.

A low voice. Sharp.

“First Fireheart… then his nephew… and now a RiverClan cat.”

He stopped, not turning around yet. His fur bristled slightly.

“Are we accepting anyone now?” Longtail said with a venomous tone. “ThunderClan was always strong. Now it feels… contaminated.”

“It’s not just that,” added Darkstripe, his voice as rough as dry brambles. “Bluestar has become soft. Strange. She hasn’t been the same since Tigerclaw was banished. At this rate… it would have been better if he had finished the job.”

A silence.

And then a growl tore through the air.

“What did you say?!” Fireheart appeared suddenly, the sparrow falling to the ground without him noticing.

Longtail turned abruptly, his gaze fiery, but took a step back upon seeing Fireheart’s expression. His whiskers trembled. His body shook with contained rage.

“Nothing,” Longtail murmured, though his tail lashed the ground.

Fireheart took another step.

“Are you implying that Bluestar should be dead?”

“I didn’t say it like that,” Longtail replied, looking away. “I just think that… since Tigerclaw fell, things have changed. A lot. And not necessarily for the better.”

Darkstripe didn’t say anything, but his eyes gleamed with poorly disguised approval.

Fireheart held his gaze for a few more seconds. Then he turned abruptly, picking up the sparrow with his teeth, though the meat tasted like dirt.

As he walked away, his ears turned back caught another murmur.

“I’m just saying what many think,” Longtail whispered.

The rest was lost among the rustling of the branches.

Fireheart walked until he dropped the sparrow in the prey pile, his thoughts agitated. Bluestar. Mistyfoot. The distrust. The poison didn’t need claws to hurt.

Just as he was about to return to the warriors’ den, he saw a familiar silhouette heading towards the edge of the camp, with a light step and tail raised.

Cloudtail.

Fireheart tilted his head.

Where was he going now?

The young white warrior slipped through the bushes with familiarity, but not towards any patrol. Fireheart frowned. He hadn’t received any orders. And the path he was taking…

The border with RiverClan.

A pang of concern ran down his spine. Maybe he just wanted to hunt. Or clear his head. But with everything that was being said…

Fireheart decided to follow him.

He kept a safe distance, his steps silent through the undergrowth. Cloudtail didn’t seem to notice he was being followed. He moved with a particular confidence, as if he had nothing to hide. But Fireheart had already learned that appearances weren’t enough.

Longtail’s words kept hammering in his mind.

“First you… then your nephew… now Mistyfoot.”

Cloudtail reached a small hollow near the stream that marked part of the border with RiverClan. He stopped. He looked at the water. He looked both ways.

Fireheart, hidden among the hollow roots, narrowed his eyes.

What was he looking for?

What was he planning to do?

For a moment, Cloudtail seemed to just… look. As if he were waiting for someone. Or something.

Fireheart didn’t move. He made no noise.

But he knew this was just beginning.

And that his Clan was about to split in more than just territory.

After walking for a while, Fireheart had managed to get close enough to Cloudtail.

He remained still, his body crouched among the intertwined roots of an old oak. His eyes followed every movement of Cloudtail, who approached the ThunderClan territory border with a firm step, though his tail trembled with a slight quiver of impatience.

The young warrior stopped upon reaching the stream that marked the border. Fireheart narrowed his eyes, pricking his ears. Cloudtail meowed, low, as if calling someone among the RiverClan trees.

He received no response.

And then, he saw him do it.

Cloudtail looked both ways, making sure no one was following him, and then crossed. He leaped across the stream with an agile jump and disappeared into the bushes on the other side.

Fireheart growled softly, his fur bristling instantly.

“What are you doing, Cloudtail?”

He prepared to advance, his paws firm against the damp earth, but at that moment he felt something brush his shoulder. He turned with a start, his eyes sparkling, his claws ready to respond.

“Shh!” whispered a familiar voice.

It was Cinderpelt.

The medicine cat was beside him, her breathing somewhat agitated, but her expression serene. She had arrived without making a sound, as if she already knew where to find him.

“I’ve also noticed him acting strange,” she murmured, casting a quick glance towards the place where Cloudtail had disappeared. “Since this morning. And last night. I saw him leave the den twice.”

“Do you think he’s…?” Fireheart stopped before saying it out loud. “He can’t be betraying us.”

Cinderpelt shook her head slowly.

“Stonefur was around here yesterday. Maybe… Cloudtail is trying to tell him that Mistyfoot is alive. Maybe just that.”

Fireheart frowned.

“But it’s not right for him to cross the border. Bluestar would never allow it. If this is discovered, if RiverClan thinks we’re hiding one of their warriors, and now we’re sending secret messages…”

“I know,” Cinderpelt interrupted, her voice low but firm. “If we meow now, we’ll attract all the nearby RiverClan cats. If they’re patrolling… they’ll come. And then a problem will indeed arise.”

Fireheart took a deep breath, containing his anger. His paws trembled. He felt the need to act, to run after Cloudtail and demand an explanation.

But Cinderpelt placed the tip of her tail on his chest.

“Let’s follow him,” she said. “Silently. Just a few more steps. We’ll watch him.”

Fireheart looked at her sideways.

“And why not catch him now?”

Cinderpelt returned the gaze, narrowing her eyes.

“Because you and I know that Cloudtail isn’t as foolish as he seems,” she murmured. “He does unexpected things, yes. But also… sometimes he surprises.”

Fireheart clenched his jaw.

“And if he’s wrong this time…”

“Then we stop him together,” she replied.

There was a silence.

Fireheart nodded.

Both advanced, stealthy as shadows, sliding through the dense foliage without rustling a single leaf. The stream in front of them continued to murmur, ignorant of the tension crossing it.

Fireheart made a precise leap, landing on a damp root on the other side. Cinderpelt followed with skill, staying to his right. Her eyes tracked the fresh marks on the ground: Cloudtail’s tracks still visible, recent.

“He’s following a path to the willow clearing,” she whispered. “That place connects with the old hollow trunk. From there, you can see almost the entire riverbank.”

Fireheart nodded again. His heart beat strongly. Not from the effort. But from the uncertainty. From the possibility that someone he trusted was about to make a mistake too big.

“Too serious,” he murmured, but received no response.

As they followed the trail, the forest seemed denser. Quieter. As if nature itself held its breath, waiting to see how this would all end.

And on the horizon, beyond the intertwined branches, Fireheart thought he saw a silhouette further ahead.

Cloudtail, waiting for something… or someone.

Cloudtail crouched, his body firm and attentive. Fireheart saw him raise his muzzle, sniffing the air as if searching for something… or someone. His posture changed slightly when he didn’t detect any immediate presence, and then, without hesitation, he turned towards the river.

Fireheart stopped.

“What is he doing?” he whispered, but received no answer.

Cinderpelt, beside him, only frowned, her whiskers tense with alert.

Cloudtail approached the water. The sun barely illuminated his back, highlighting every fiber of his white fur. He crouched even lower, fixing his gaze on the rippling surface of the river.

And then he did it.

His paw shot out with astonishing precision, like that of a cat who had grown up on the water’s edge. With a clean movement, he flung a silvery fish out of the river, which landed wriggling on the wet grass.

Fireheart froze.

“He’s fishing,” he murmured, incredulous. “He’s fishing!”

Seeing a ThunderClan cat use RiverClan techniques was not only unusual.

It was a direct violation of the warrior code.

For what…? Why did he seem to want to draw RiverClan’s attention so much?

What are you doing, Cloudtail?

As if sensing his anger, Fireheart took a step forward, his muscles tense, but Cinderpelt got ahead of him, her paws hitting the mud without hesitation.

“Cloudtail!” she meowed loudly, her voice clear in the forest’s humidity.

The young warrior startled. He raised his ears abruptly and turned his head, his expression frozen for a moment.

He swallowed.

And without saying a word, he grabbed the fish with his teeth and dove into the river. The water enveloped him in an instant, and he swam at full speed towards the ThunderClan shore, his tail forming a wake behind him.

Fireheart emerged from the bushes, his eyes shining with fury.

“Cloudtail!”

The other didn’t respond. He just swam faster, propelling himself forcefully until he reached his Clan’s shore. Upon stepping on solid ground, he dropped the fish for a few seconds, shook the water off his fur, and picked it up again with his teeth.

But not before looking over his shoulder.

His gaze met Fireheart’s for a second. There was no fear in it. But there was… something. Something Fireheart couldn’t fully understand.

And then he turned and ran.

Cinderpelt reached Fireheart’s side just as he tensed to go after him.

“No!” she whispered softly, alarmed. “Listen.”

Fireheart held his breath.

And there they were.

Voices.

Distant meows, but approaching quickly.

A patrol.

Fireheart retreated to the nearest bush, his paws muddied. Cinderpelt imitated him, both hiding in the dense shadow of the underbrush.

The footsteps approached from the other side of the river.

“I’m sure I heard something over here,” meowed a female voice, firm.

“A fox, perhaps?” responded a second, male. “Or maybe… an intruder.”

Fireheart held his breath.

Cinderpelt looked at him, her tail pressed against the ground. If they were seen now, an unnecessary war could break out. And all because of a fish. Because of a reckless young warrior.

Or perhaps… because of something more that Fireheart still couldn’t understand.

The sound of the footsteps veered off, and the meows began to fade away slowly.

But the buzzing in his head was still there.

Cloudtail had crossed the border.

He had fished.

And he had taken the fish to ThunderClan.

Fireheart had never seen his nephew act this way.

He growled, barely a contained murmur between his teeth, as his body pressed even closer to Cinderpelt’s flank. The damp earth beneath his paws seemed to absorb his anger, but it wasn’t enough to appease him.

What the hell was Cloudtail doing?

He had imagined it all. Suspicions, yes. Some rebellion, too. But this… this was different. Crossing the border, fishing like a RiverClan cat, taking the fish to the other side as if it were an offering… it made no sense. At least not one that Fireheart could see clearly.

Beside him, Cinderpelt remained silent, her body crouched in the undergrowth. But her ears turned, restless. She felt it too.

Cloudtail wasn’t acting like a fool.

He was acting like someone with a purpose.

And that was much worse.

***

In the medicine cats’ den, the atmosphere was different. The soft darkness of the place enveloped every corner with a deceptive peace.

The damp stone walls barely reflected the twilight filtering through the entrance, and the scent of herbs floated in the air like a thick veil.

Bluestar slept in a corner at the back, her body curled up and her face relaxed. Beside her, Mistyfoot also rested, wrapped in clean moss, her breathing slow and steady.

But something made her blink.

First, it was a soft sound. Like a rub against the stone. Then, a scent. Different. One that didn’t belong to ThunderClan.

The scent of scales, mud, and river.

Fish.

Mistyfoot frowned, still half-asleep, but her nose moved insistently. A smell so familiar that it brought back memories. A smell that couldn’t be there, not in that cave, not in that Clan.

She raised her ears.

And then she saw it.

A fish head, barely peeking into the den’s entrance. The fish’s muzzle opened and closed in small clumsy movements. Not by reflex… but by a white paw that moved it, as if making the creature speak.

“Hello, Mistyfoot,” said a barely contained voice behind the fish.

Mistyfoot blinked.

Cloudtail.

The cat sat up carefully, still feeling the slight pull in her bandaged paw. Her eyes adjusted to the light, and her gaze fixed on the partially hidden figure at the entrance.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, a mix of confusion and amusement escaping her muzzle.

Cloudtail peeked his head out a bit more, still holding the fish as if it were a toy.

“I brought you a gift. I said rats weren’t your thing, right?”

“You went into the river just for this?”

“Who said it was just one fish? Maybe it was a highly dangerous diplomatic mission.”

Mistyfoot laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Do you know this goes against everything the warrior code stands for, right?”

“Offering food to the wounded?” Cloudtail asked with feigned innocence. “What a terrible crime.”

Mistyfoot opened her muzzle to reply, but the purr got the better of her. She covered her face with a paw to hide it, though the slight tremor in her flanks gave her away.

“You’re a fool,” she said through her teeth.

“But a fool who knows how to fish.”

“And what will you do if they see you?”

“They already saw me.”

Mistyfoot fell silent for a second.

“Fireheart?”

Cloudtail nodded slowly.

“And Cinderpelt. They followed me. Almost caught me.”

“Why don’t you run away before they do?”

“Because I hadn’t delivered this to you.”

He carefully placed the fish beside the entrance, pushing it with his muzzle until it was within her reach.

Mistyfoot looked at him, perplexed.

Bluestar stirred in the background, though she didn’t wake up.

Cloudtail looked at Mistyfoot again. For once, without jokes.

“It’s not out of pity,” he said. “It’s not because you’re from RiverClan. It’s because I like you.”

She lowered her gaze.

And for a moment, the scent of the fish was stronger than that of the sarsaparilla.

More real than any border.

Simpler than all the questions.

“Thank you,” Mistyfoot whispered.

Cloudtail nodded and stayed by the entrance, his silhouette outlined by the silvery twilight. The cave was still quiet, wrapped in the soft scent of herbs, clean moss… and now, freshly caught fish.

“You don’t have to worry about Bluestar,” he whispered suddenly, lowering his voice even more. “She sleeps heavily most of the time.”

Mistyfoot raised her ears, surprised. Her gaze shifted to the corner where her mother slept, her flank rising and falling slowly.

“Really?”

Cloudtail nodded, with a half-smile.

“Maybe it’s because of age. Though she’s not that old…” He shrugged. “But she has been very stressed. For many moons.”

Mistyfoot looked at her again, noticing for the first time how much weariness there was in Bluestar’s closed eyelids. She seemed more at peace there, asleep in the corner, away from the murmurs, the decisions, the constant pressure.

She sighed and looked down at the fish. Its scent hit her nose strongly. The hunger, which had been dormant under the pain in her paw, awoke with a silent roar in her stomach.

“It’s very fresh,” she murmured, leaning over it and taking the first bite carefully. “I can’t believe how much I missed this.”

The scales crunched softly under her fangs, and the sweet taste of the river filled her tongue. It was so different from the earthy meat of ThunderClan. It tasted like home.

“That explains why RiverClan cats always walk with full bellies,” said Cloudtail, approaching with a light step, though his eyes still scanned the interior in case Bluestar moved.

Mistyfoot licked her lips, pleased.

“This fish is mine,” she declared with a slight smile, raising her muzzle as if she were a queen. “You gave it to me. The rules are clear.”

Cloudtail let out a deep purr, amused.

“Do you think so?”

“I know,” she replied, taking another piece to her muzzle.

The white warrior took another step, crouching down, his gaze fixed on the fish.

“Just one bite…”

“Nope,” Mistyfoot murmured, pushing the fish closer to her body. “You patrolled, crossed the river, and offered it to me as a peace gift. Now it’s mine.”

Cloudtail growled playfully, and lunged at it with a clumsy but gentle charge.

“Traitor!”

“Dishonorable cat!” Mistyfoot replied, pretending to push him with a paw while holding the fish with the other.

The struggle was light, almost silent, full of low snorts and clumsy movements. Neither was really fighting. It was more of a game than a fight, a dance of wagging tails and narrowed glances.

Cloudtail got too close. In one of the pushes, he lost his balance for a second, and his muzzle bumped against Mistyfoot’s.

Both froze.

Noses brushing.

Breath held.

The sudden warmth between their faces, as if the air around them became thicker.

Neither moved.

Mistyfoot’s eyes fixed on his, which no longer seemed amused. Just… attentive. Expectant. And perhaps, as confused as hers.

She felt the impulse to pull back, to break the contact. But her paws didn’t respond. Not yet.

Cloudtail’s purr was still there, barely perceptible, vibrating between them.

Mistyfoot blinked. Once.

And said nothing.

Because there were no words to explain what they were feeling. Not at that moment.

“I think… I should move away,” Cloudtail murmured, his voice broken by the sudden discomfort hanging in the air.

“You should,” Mistyfoot replied, without moving.

“Yes, yes… I must do it.”

But he didn’t do it immediately. Instead, he clumsily dropped down beside her, not looking at her, fixing his gaze on a dark wall of the cave, as if the intertwined roots there were suddenly fascinating.

Mistyfoot also turned her head, looking away from the young warrior, feeling how her paws trembled beneath her.

Silly cat, she thought with frustration, foolish illusion… no, bad cat.

Her heart beat strongly in her chest. With each beat, it seemed to remind her of the stupidity of what had just happened. She had allowed a cat from another Clan to touch her, to get so close. Worse yet: she hadn’t avoided it.

This isn’t part of the code. This isn’t part of anything.

Beside her, Cloudtail let out the air in a slow sigh, as if he too were struggling to find some center. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he saw that Mistyfoot had let go of the fish, pushing it away a bit.

With an almost automatic gesture, he leaned towards it and took a bite.

“Hey!” Mistyfoot meowed, turning abruptly, though without real anger.

Cloudtail purred, chewing with a satisfied air.

“I was hungry too. This can be part of my reward, can’t it? After all… they’ll probably punish me for this. Fireheart will surely make me reinforce the wall with moss for half a moon cycle.”

Mistyfoot looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“But not my fish. It’s mine.”

“I know,” he said with his muzzle half full. “And it tastes amazing. I’ve never tasted anything like it. It has like… a different freshness.”

Another bite. This time bigger.

“Cloudtail!” she protested, though not seriously.

“What? You said it tasted good. I wanted to check,” he purred, and chewed with his muzzle open, deliberately annoyingly, noisily savoring as if he were mocking her.

Mistyfoot let out a resigned exhalation and raised a paw.

“Stop chewing like that!” she said softly, gently pressing the pad against his muzzle to close it. “My mother might hear you.”

Cloudtail stayed still with his eyes crossed looking at the paw on his nose.

“Ah. Right. Bluestar.” He made a face with his muzzle closed. “Sorry.”

He removed the paw with a smile and lowered his head, finally swallowing the piece he had savored so boldly. Mistyfoot shook her head, but her whiskers trembled with contained laughter.

“You’re a complete mess,” she murmured.

“And you let me in,” he said, wagging his tail as if giving himself credit for that.

Both looked at each other for a moment. The silence that fell afterward was different from before. There was no discomfort now. Just a shared calm, warm and quiet, like moss after a storm.

The medicine cats’ den was still in twilight, and Bluestar didn’t move in the background. The sounds of the camp were distant, soft, as if the world out there had momentarily forgotten about them.

Mistyfoot looked down at the fish.

What was left of it.

“You could have brought two.”

Cloudtail purred again.

“Next time I will.”

She looked at him, with her ears tilted.

“Does that mean you plan to cross the river again? Again breaking the code?”

Cloudtail tilted his head, as if considering the question seriously.

“If it’s to feed an injured she-cat with good taste, maybe so.”

Mistyfoot laughed. She didn’t say it out loud, but something inside her chest loosened. Something that had been tied up since she woke up in that strange den. Something that, for now, she didn’t dare to name.

“Maybe,” said Mistyfoot, licking her lips slowly, “if you ask nicely… I’d give you a piece of fish.”

Her eyes narrowed with slight amusement, though inside, the beat of her heart began to climb up her throat.

Cloudtail leaned in, as if the invitation had ignited something in him. He took a step toward her, closer than before, and Mistyfoot felt the heat rise to her face.

“W-what… what do you think you’re doing?” she asked quickly, her voice higher than she would have liked. Her ears burned, and she stepped back slightly, but not with enough conviction.

Cloudtail lingered in silence.

He just moved a little closer and, without warning, gently licked her nose.

It was a light gesture, without pressure.

But Mistyfoot stood completely still. Her eyes widened in surprise, her whiskers twitched.

Cloudtail smiled.

“You had a bit of fish there,” he murmured, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “At least I’ll take that as a reward.”

He leaned in and bit off a small piece of the remaining fish.

“Hey… this piece tasted better,” he commented as he chewed with satisfaction. “Delicious.”

Silence clung to Mistyfoot for a heartbeat. Her face burned. The blood seemed to run through her body like an unstoppable current, and her paws didn’t know whether to run or stay put.

So she chose the most impulsive option.

She leaned in and lightly bit his neck.

Cloudtail let out a contained purr, almost surprised. His tail twitched behind him, and then, with his eyes shining, he tilted his head toward Mistyfoot’s neck, as if seeking to return the gesture.

But at the last second… he stopped.

His muzzle barely brushed her fur.

And then he stepped back, as if an invisible wall had pushed him.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Stop. No… just… no.”

He took another step back, his ears turning backward, confused.

“I’m sorry,” he added quickly. “That was… too much.”

Mistyfoot blinked, surprised by his reaction. She could also feel her racing heart, each beat echoing in her ribs. Her neck still throbbed where Cloudtail had almost touched her.

Cloudtail swallowed. His fur was slightly bristled, as if a part of him hadn’t calmed down yet.

“You were right,” he murmured, looking at her with a mix of discomfort and something harder to name. “My bite would have been much stronger.”

The silence became thick, and for a moment, only the soft murmur of the wind outside the den could be heard.

They both looked at each other, not knowing how to move. The air that had been warm and shared was now tense, contained between them like a leaf that hadn’t yet fallen.

Cloudtail was the first to look away.

“Maybe… I should go,” he said, his voice hoarse, low.

He turned slightly, as if his paws were waiting for a signal.

Mistyfoot wanted to say something.

She wanted to stop him.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

She didn’t know what she should say.

She didn’t even know what she wanted to say.

She only knew that, at that moment, she didn’t want him to leave.

“Cloudtail…” she murmured, barely a whisper.

He looked at her over his shoulder.

Their eyes met.

Mistyfoot swallowed. Her throat felt closed, as if the words she wanted to say had dissolved before they could take shape. She looked away, toward the cave wall covered in moss, toward anywhere that wasn’t Cloudtail’s clear eyes.

She shook her head slowly.

“Nothing…” she whispered. “Just… thank you for the fish.”

Her voice came out lower than she intended, almost fragile. But sincere.

Cloudtail nodded without responding immediately. His white fur glowed faintly with the light that still entered through the den’s slit, and for a moment, he seemed calmer. More himself.

A soft purr emerged from his chest, warm and playful.

“Eat it all or Bluestar will suspect,” he said, with a spark in his voice as he licked his muzzle, cleaning with a slow pass the taste that still remained of his aquatic trophy.

Mistyfoot cast a fleeting glance at him from the corner of her eye. It wasn’t a mockery. Not now. Just… his way of lightening what neither of them dared to name.

Cloudtail turned, his tail moving slowly behind him as he left the den without a sound. He didn’t look back.

And Mistyfoot was left alone.

Well… not entirely.

Bluestar still slept in the opposite corner, her body curled up. The soft whisper of her breathing filled the space like a gentle, constant drum. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her eyelids closed, oblivious to the whirlwind that had just passed through that very den.

Mistyfoot knew it.

She knew that if her mother—her mother—woke up and smelled the fish, if she sensed the scent of RiverClan in the air or noticed the void that Cloudtail left behind… everything would become more complicated.

Even more than it already was.

She quickly leaned over the fish and took a big bite. She chewed without thinking, barely tasting, driven more by urgency than hunger.

The taste was intense, clean, pure. The kind of taste only the river could give. It was like a pat from her home, a reminder of who she was and where she came from.

And, at the same time, a sign of how much she was drifting away.

Her paws trembled as she tore off another piece. Cloudtail’s words still buzzed in her head.

Eat it all or Bluestar will suspect.

She leaned in again. Another bite. Faster. Almost as if she wanted to erase the evidence, not just of the fish, but of everything that had just happened.

The closeness.

The brush of his nose.

The warmth on her neck.

The desire not to have stopped him.

She shook her head, growling to herself, and continued eating more hastily. She couldn’t afford to stay still. Not now.

The fish disappeared little by little between her teeth. Each bite made the dilemma she was in clearer.

Because, even if she swallowed everything Cloudtail had brought, even if she cleaned every scale and licked every last bone… the memory would remain. And not just on her tongue.

It would be there, crouching in her chest.

Waiting to wake up again.

Behind her, Bluestar turned in her sleep, murmuring something incomprehensible.

Mistyfoot froze for an instant. But the leader didn’t wake up. She just exhaled and returned to her previous position, deeply asleep.

The RiverClan warrior breathed again, more calmly, and took the last piece of fish. She chewed it slower this time, allowing herself, for a few seconds, to enjoy the taste… the gift.

And the silence.

A silence that no longer felt empty.