The Home of Olivia's Parents –
This house is a medium-sized wood structure with a stone foundation and chimney, large enough to contain two bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, and a carpentry workshop at the back. A narrow, roofed porch runs along the front of the house, with three stone steps leading up to it. A small herb garden and a covered well stand in the yard at its right side, while at the left side is an outhouse and a well-worn path running to it. From this view of the place, at least, all looks peaceful, serene, and surprisingly normal.

After seeing Natasha safely off to the Gnarly Tree, Olivia takes Djivan aside and hints again that she needs to visit her parents to make sure that nothing's happened to them. While Isolde fusses over the exhausted and battered mage, the two take their chance and slip away from the others, heading back the way they came. Olivia leads the gypsy further and further away from the town until eventually, a little clearing can be seen in the woods, with a house in the middle of it.

"You born here?" Djivan remarks, looking rather dubious. "It look so … normal. Bleh."

Now that they've arrived, for all of Olivia's urgent talk, she suddenly looks quite uncomfortable. "Yes, I was born in this house," she answers quietly, "but the inside isn't quite as normal as the outside. Or rather, the people inside it aren't that normal."

"Vell, no' bein' normal can be good," Djivan points out, then shrugs lightly. "I mean, normal be borin'. I vas normal, I be a money lender or something. Bleh. Shouldn't ve go knock or something? Dey out to be glad to see vou, no?"

Olivia gives Djivan a strange look at his last statement. "I'm not so sure about that," she says cryptically. "But you'll see for yourself." Then she leads the way up the steps of the porch and to the door, knocking softly. "Father, are you there?" she calls.

"Vou need to be more firm. Dat vas a veak knock," Djivan observes as he steps up.

At Djivan's direction, the Skeek girl knocks more loudly, but even then there's no answer. Shrugging to the gypsy, she tries the door handle and finds that it turns easily. Then she opens the door a few feet, giving the both of them enough room to peer inside. A large dining area with a fireplace against one wall greets their gaze, with another open door leading to a kitchen beyond.

"Vov, it dull inside too. Vere are de socks on de walls?" Djivan inquires as he peers inside. "An where are de people, for dat matter?"

Olivia gives the Skreek one of those glares as she pulls him inside, shutting the door behind them. A moment later, the gypsy's last question is answered as they both hear a nervous, halting voice calling from the kitchen. "Gerhardt… is that you? I thought you were still in your shop! Why didn't you just come in through the back?"

"Ah, dere be no Gerhardt here," Djivan calls back and glances at Olivia with one of his usual 'what?' looks.

Olivia just shakes her head at Djivan and adds, "It's not Father… it's me and my friend Djivan." At her announcement there is a sudden screech and a CRASH from the kitchen, as if dishes are breaking.

"Uhm, is she usually dis clumsy?" Djivan asks, looking a bit nervous now.

Olivia simply stares at the kitchen door, her expression completely closed off from him. "Only when I'm around," she just has time to say before another female Skeek appears in the room. She is short and thin, with a swiftly-graying thatch of chestnut hair framing her face. Her eyes dart over to Djivan first but once she spots Olivia, it's as if he isn't in the room anymore. "What are you doing here?" she hisses, her expression very much afraid but her words angry. "You're supposed to be over at your aunt's! You can't just barge in here without warning!"

"Now vait jus' a minute," Djivan interjects, stepping forward. "She hardly barged in. She knocked, repeatedly. No one answered. She tried de door, it vas open."

The woman's gaze swings back to the gypsy and she takes a step away from him, as if he's threatening her with a weapon. "That doesn't matter!" she exclaims belligerently, her hands clutching her apron. "She's not supposed to be here at all!" Then Olivia tries to put herself gently back into the conversation by saying, "Mother, it's all right, there's no need to shout. We won't be here long. I just wanted to check on you and Father. There's been some trouble in town and I wanted to know if you were safe."

"De hell it don' matter, you ungrateful … " Djivan hisses through gritted teeth. He then shuts up and that and just fumes instead.

"We're just fine – your Father is working on some furniture in his shop and I've been cooking lunch for him," Olivia's mother answers, only slightly less rudely. "So you've wasted a trip if that's all you wanted to-" She is cut off by the sound of another door opening and closing from the hallway that runs near the back of the dining room. "Irene, dear, is something the matter?" comes a much deeper voice.

"Yeah, she bein' a right b … a bit rude to guests!" Djivan calls out, now glaring at the woman as his tail lashes back and forth.

Irene gives Djivan a look that could peel the paint right off a wall but turns away from him to speak to the figure approaching from the hallway. "Your daughter is here," she hisses again. "An unannounced visit, I might add!"

Djivan returns the glare with equal intensity. "I fough' ruffians wit better manners," he notes to Olivia.

At this, the figure comes hurriedly towards them. This is obviously Olivia's father; the gypsy can see that she favors him more than her mother, since they both have the same light golden-brown fur and the same light brown hair color. His stern gaze flicks from Djivan to his daughter and back again. "Who are you and how do you know Olivia?" he asks shortly.

"I be her boyfrien'," Djivan replies politely. "Hav' been for some time, too. I been lookin' out for her lately."

As much as she acts like she doesn't care what Olivia says or does, Irene lets out another little screech of horror at Djivan's words. "You're… you're dating this per-" she starts to say, but Gerhardt silences her by merely lifting a hand. "Dear, why don't you sweep up that glass I heard breaking," he says, very calmly. "You don't want to cut yourself on it, do you?" With a final glare at the gypsy, Irene shakes her head in answer to her husband and backs out of the room, muttering under her breath.

"Say it to my face if you gots something to say, eh?" Djivan calls out after the woman. He shakes his head. "Sorry," he then says to Gerhardt, "I don' particularly appreciate somon' who come out wit a chip on dere shoulder for no good reason. An' after de way things have been, I have no patience for it, either."

With his wife in the other room, Djivan can see Gerhardt relax visibly, although the stern look on his face never changes. He quirks one eyebrow at Olivia (another trait she must have taken from him) while he offers the Skreek his hand. "I see that Liv hasn't told you about our, ah, unique family troubles," he says simply. "I'm sure she will in time. If it's true, what you say, and you two really are seeing each other. What's your name, son? I'm Gerhardt Weaver."

"I be Djivan," the Skreek replies and bows with a flourish, then shakes the offered hand. "I tell vou my last name, but it so hard to pronounce an' I don' want to hurt vour tongue." He grins lopsidedly.

The slight hint of a sparkle creeps into Gerhardt's eyes. "Thank you for that," he says, like he means it. Then he goes over to Olivia, who is finally smiling a little, and kisses her on the forehead. One of his hands lingers on the girl's cheek and he says softly, "Your mother is right about one thing. You really should have sent word beforehand that you were coming, so we could have avoided this scene."

"Vell, ve didn' exactly have de time," Djivan comments, then looks at Olivia.

Olivia leans her cheek against her father's hand and for a moment she looks like a tiny child who's been starved of attention. Then her face clears and she adds, "Yes, we were in a hurry to get here. There's been a necromancer in Stonebarrow and I just wanted to make sure you two were all right. You are pretty far away from town, you know."

Gerhardt looks concerned at this. "A necromancer? What on earth would someone like that want here?"

"No' just any necromancer. One wit' a small army," Djivan adds, brow raised curiously. "It vas pretty ugly out dere. What he vant, vell, er. Heh, dat be a long story."

Gerhardt's hand drops and he turns his unwavering gaze on Djivan. "Then give me the short version," he says. "And tell me this, too: is he gone now? Or do I still have to be concerned about him? I can bring Irene into town and stay with relatives, if need be. Then we wouldn't be isolated out here."

"De short version, it vas one on de quest to become a lich. He vanted de power of my tribe leader, Natasha. She be powerful, and she be enough to complete his spell. Unfortunately, he set his eyes on others in dis town too," Djivan notes, then makes a nod towards Olivia. "An ves, he gone. He vas destroyed only a few hours ago."

Gerhardt's eyes follow in the direction of Djivan's nod and for the first time, he becomes flustered. "Olivia," he says, voice deepening even further, "please tell me you didn't get involved in that?" When the Skeek girl remains silent, he sighs and asks simply, "Why?"

"She didn' exactly have a choice," Djivan pipes up. "He kind of chose 'er. Well, 'cuz she was friends with Natasha."

Olivia's voice sounds almost pleading. "He cornered Gunther Kettenrad and I in the woods and gave me a choice," she says. "Either I had to help him get Natasha and two of my friends in town, or watch him kill the people that I care about. You and mother were two of those he was threatening, but I didn't want to turn anyone over to him. So Amelia Blacktail and I came up with this plan to trap him. What else was I supposed to do?"

Olivia's father rubs one hand across his eyes before he says, more to himself than anyone else, "To think that you might've been at home with us, or someplace else safe, if only Irene… " Then he breaks off and asks the two younger ones, "But you're safe and well now, yes? And how is this other friend of yours – Natasha, was it?"

"Injured pretty badly. She faced him down, from what she tol' us. An mustered every bit o' power she could to disrupt his," Djivan says, sounding more somber. "She really though' she was going to die, and was ready to, to protect everyon' else."

Gerhardt nods briskly at this. "Then you'll have to thank her for me. I understand that she had more people to think about than just my daughter, but I'm grateful just the same." To Olivia, he says, with another quirk of his eyebrows, "I can see why you like this Natasha. She seems to be everything your mother is not." And as if that were her cue, the three of them can hear Irene call shrilly from the kitchen, "Your lunch is almost ready, Gerhardt. Are they gone yet? We should eat while this food is still hot!"

"I'd like to stuff dat food someplace," Djivan mutters. "Natasha look after a lot of people. I know it tire her greatly, but she try no' to ever show it," he then says in a louder voice.

Olivia, for her part, only looks sad when she hears that her mother is wondering if they've already left. "I guess we'd better go," she says, reaching over to tug on Djivan's hand. But her father says, "Go ahead outside, but wait for me on the porch, please." Then he disappears into another room off the back hallway.

"Vhat a lovely mother," Djivan remarks, then starts towards the door as asked.

Olivia sighs and walks out the door behind Djivan. "I'll have to explain later," she says lamely. "I'm sorry she was rude to you. Unfortunately, though, nothing I would have said in your defense would have made any difference. She just would've talked over me, or insulted me."

"Eh, I kin take care of myself. T'ink that surprised her a bit, really. I no' about to jus' stand dere and be insulted. I no be rich or special, but I dn' deserve dat," Djivan says and shrugs.

Olivia gives the Skreek a quick hug and says, "No, you didn't deserve that at all. And anyway, I think you're pretty special, riches or no."

"Because I kin wear a pot on me head?" Djivan asks, grinning lopsidedly.

Olivia laughs and is about to answer when Gerhardt reappears on the porch in front of them, holding a small leather bag. "This is for you," he says, handing the bag over to Olivia. "I think you're old enough to have this now. Go ahead and open it."

"Is it a shrunken head? I always vanted one o' dose," Djivan notes as he arches his neck to peer at the bag.

Olivia unties the laces of the pouch and curiously peers inside. What greets the young people's gaze isn't a shrunken head or any other weird object – but shekels. Lots of them. Gerhardt must have saved for years to accumulate all this money! "Papa… !" Olivia exclaims, reverting back to the name she called him as a child. "Why are you giving this to me? This must be all of your savings!"

For the first time, Olivia's father smiles at them both. "Not exactly," he says, the slight sparkle coming back into his eyes. "This is just what I've saved for you. Your mother and I have plenty enough to live on, don't worry about that. The camp furniture and services that I sell to the travelers that go through Stonebarrow provide for all of us. It's just that you're almost eighteen now and might have a use for this. So it's yours."

"Yeah, it be all vours," Djivan says and then puts his arm around Olivia. "An I know dis lovely game dat goes great wit money… " He then grins widely and winks at her.

As Olivia looks at Djivan in shock, Gerhardt places one strong hand on the gypsy's shoulder. It feels as if a brick is weighing him down and for the first time, the Skreek notices how muscular his work has made him. "I wouldn't advise that if I were you," Gerhardt intones seriously, although his mouth twitches. "You'll have to answer to me, in that case."

Djivan tries to give Gerhardt an innocent smile. "Aw. I jus' be jestin'" he notes, grinning. "I rarely serious."

Gerhardt hmms in a slightly disbelieving tone and says to his daughter, "Keep your eye on this one, Liv. His heart's in the right place but I'm not sure his common sense is, too." Then he gives her another paternal kiss on the forehead and goes back into the house, shutting the door quietly.

"Bah, the least common thing in the de world in sense! And speaking of cents, I could use some," Djivan quips, grinning. "Seriously, though, it vas nice meeting vou. I von' lead her anyvhere she don vant to go."

Olivia ties the pouch shut again and winds the laces around her wrist so she won't lose the money. Then she jumps down off the porch and starts for the path back into town. She looks happy, relieved, and re-energized all at once. However, as they walk back into the woods, she says to Djivan, "Er, come to think of it… why did you say you wanted a shrunken head, anyway?"

Djivan walks along swinging his arms lightly. "Oh, vell, vou know how lots of de older folks always ask vou if vou vant to get ahead in de world? Vell, if I had a shrunken head, I coul' pull it outta me pocket an say: I already gots one!" He grins widely.

Olivia groans and rubs her forehead with one hand. "I just had to ask… " she mutters, as they disappear into the forest.

---

Djivan's and Olivia's trip back to Stonebarrow is blissfully uneventful and even pleasant; now that the sun is shining and Olivia's spirits are lifted, the two chatter happily back and forth between themselves as they walk (although Olivia has to swat Djivan a few times for having wandering hands). Once they near the Weavers' compound, Olivia suggests that they stop there first so that she can lock her money away in their safe and drop her rain-cloak off in her room, since it's much too warm to wear now. So after the first task is done, the pair head over to Olivia's room; only to discover that her door is unlocked and standing wide open.

Olivia's room
Inside this room are several pieces of well-worn furniture, inherited from past occupants: a bed, a long, squat dresser with a slice of mirror hung above it, and a small desk and chair. The rest of the room is decorated in what can best be described as "controlled chaos." Canvases cover most of the wall space, on which have been glued odd assortments of buttons, twine, bits of colored cloth, autumn leaves, pebbles of varying sizes, etc. Some of this "art" represents recognizable figures but most are unlike anything ever seen before. Overflowing bags stuffed with cloth scraps sit near the doorway, while more cloth, bobbins of thread, yarn, and ribbons cover the surface of the desk. Located next the bed is something that might be a nightstand (judging from the trinkets resting on it), but it too is built from a mish-mash of smaller elements, twisting around and around like a corkscrew and then widening and flattening at the top.

Olivia comes to an abrupt halt a few feet away from the door. "What in the-?" she starts to say, then peers inside the room. It is only when a large, menacing figure gets up from her desk chair and glares at her that she takes a few quick paces backwards. "Um, perhaps we should just go back to the Gnarly Tree," she says hurriedly, looking as if she wants to make a quick escape.

"Vha? One of de zombies is still on de loose?" Djivan inquires and slips his hand down to the daggers still hanging from his belt. "Don' vorry, I kill it. Er, again."

Olivia now tugs on Djivan's arm insistently. "Uh, no, I don't think it's a zombie," she says, clearly ready to get as far away from the Weavers' as possible. "Just someone we don't want to see. We should go check on Na-" The Skeek only gets halfway through her sentence when the figure inside her room shouts in a loud, booming voice, "Olivia Faelinn Weaver! Don't you run away from me! Get your tail in here right now!"

Djivan's ears go flat back. "Wow, an I thought Bravil was loud vhen he yelled," he mutters. "Do you have a skill in annoying people? Dis de second person today. I so proud!"

Olivia's hands fall away from the gypsy's arm and even her whiskers droop in defeat. "Only in annoying my relatives, it seems," she mutters. "C'mon, it's too late to back away now. You'll have to meet my Aunt Augusta." Then she sets her mouth in a grim line and marches through the door to face the female Skeek who seems to be just as large as the voice she uses.

"Er, all right," Djivan replies and shrugs lightly, following Olivia in. "Vhatever it is, she didn' do it!" he declares once they're inside.

Once they're both in the room, Djivan could see why Olivia might be a little scared of her Aunt Augusta. Standing at four and a half feet, she's taller than most Skeeks – and wider, too. Her dark, chestnut-colored hair is wound around her head in a severe crown braid and she wears little half-moon spectacles to correct her nearsightedness. Looking imperiously at the two of them, Augusta sniffs at the gypsy's statement. "I'm not so sure about that, young man," she replies. "Now, close that door behind you. There are a few things I want to say to you, Olivia!"

Not missing a beat, Djivan's tail snaps behind him like a whip, closing the door with a bang! "Dere, door closed," he announces, looking proud about it, too. He then straightens up to his full height, putting him half a foot taller than Augusta.

Augusta blinks and frowns when the door slams shut. "Djivan, don't antagonize her!" Olivia hisses at him, but it's too late. Not intimidated in the slightest, she looks the Skreek up and down slowly. "Ah, I recognize you now," she says. "You're that gypsy my niece has been gallivanting about with – much good that it's done her!" She then meets his eyes in a pointed way, waiting – and looking almost hopeful – that he'll answer her.

"I prefer to call it entertaining her," Djivan replies, looking for all the world unconcerned. "An' it's done her a worl' o' good. She been very happy. She also learn how to handle lots of problems, an how to deal wit' things more powerful den her quite successfully."

Olivia's ears flush scarlet at this praise, while her aunt crosses her arms and stares at Djivan even more intently, as if trying to read his mind through her gaze. Then, suddenly, she barks a laugh and her frown fades away. "Well, well, you're certainly more perceptive than I would've given you credit for," she says. "I have noticed that Olivia seems to be happier lately, and it's true that she's had to handle more than her fair share of problems in a short amount of time. As for being successful in her dealings with the powerful – hmm, from what I understand, that's had more to do with your tribe leader than anyone else. Which brings me to me to the reason I'm here… " The Skeek woman pauses and takes in a deep breath. Olivia seems to know what's coming next; she cringes and quickly puts her fingers in her ears…

"Bah, repeated assaults on her resolve an she held up well agains' someone who's destroyed hundreds. I call dat doing quite well," Djivan insists. As as Olivia shoves her fingers in her ears, Djivan looks at her quizzically.

All at once, the gypsy discovers the wisdom behind Olivia's actions. In a thunderous voice that could knock vultures from the treetops, Augusta yells at her niece, "How DARE you attempt to destroy a NECROMANCER! Did you SERIOUSLY think that you and your little friends could take him out all on your OWN?! Do you even know how DANGEROUS that was? He could have HURT you, KILLED you, or WORSE!"

Djivan's ears snap back immediately and he winces in pain. When the yelling subsides, he comments, "Ow, my ears are ringing." He then draws in a breath and flat says, "She didn' really have a choice. He chose to involve her. An' if she refused, well, he would have killed a lot of people she hold' dear, including her own parents. Do you t'ink anyone is so stupid as dey want to take on someone like dat? Give her some credit!"

Augusta growls at Djivan, "I give credit only when credit is due, young man. She could have confided in the elders that care about her, but did she? I know I certainly didn't hear about it after he threatened her! Besides, you're interrupting me." As the Skeek woman takes another deep breath, this time Olivia makes Djivan plug up his own ears before she shouts, "And then, after hearing all about the battle at the Mint Dam from a second-hand source, mind you, I have to wait for HOURS before you finally come home! Did it ever occur to you that I might be WORRIED about you? Just what were you DOING for all that time?"

"One! De necromancer, from vhat I vas told, was capable of invading dreams and vho knows vhat else vays of spying. She couldn't just talk to anyone. And, in fact, talked to Isolde the first chance she got! Now, vould you not call that talking to the most qualified person around? Two! We were at her parents! Olivia vas vorried sick about dem, an for good reason. But her ungrateful mother jus' yell at her," Djivan retorts angrily. "But, at leas' I no let her get away wit' dat easily. An' three, I don' care if I interruptin' vou, if vou are yelling at someone vho don' deserve it!"

Olivia stares at Djivan in amazement – she can't believe that someone is actually yelling back at her strict old Aunt Augusta, even if it is in her own defense! Weaver apprentices have been sacked for less… but even more surprising still is the fact that what Djivan has just said seems to shock and deflate her. She gasps and presses one hand to her (very large) chest. "You… you went to see Olivia's mother? On an unannounced visit?" She turns to her niece for verification. "Is this true?" When Olivia nods meekly, she sits back down on the desk chair with a whump!

"An she a downright b … rude person," Djivan adds to the topic. "We go out dere out of concern an she did not'ing but yell at her … in ways dat make no sense. Vell, I tol' her off, I did." And boy, does he look proud.

After taking in a few ragged breaths, Olivia's aunt picks up a few sheets paper from the desk and fans herself with them. "I take back every negative thing I've said about you, Djivan," she says finally, surprising them both by knowing his name already. "You are truly a brave and determined young man – not to mention loyal to Olivia. Not many people could go to visit her crazy mother and still have the courage to stick around afterwards." When Olivia tries to protest this, Augusta waves away her words. "I know what I'm talking about," she says sternly. "Irene is my sister, after all. No one knows how spiteful and unbalanced she is more than I!"

Djivan shrugs slightly. "Vou learn to deal wit a lot of people vhen you travel a lot. An some people just take tellin' off," he notes and leans back against the door. "I no about to let someone get all snitty because her daughter vas vorried about her safety. Dat jus' wrong."

Augusta looks intently at the Skreek as she says, "The reason my sister is so ugly towards Olivia is because she wants to keep her at a distance. She figures that if she is rude, it will drive Olivia further and further away – until she doesn't want to come back at all. Which is Irene's desire, because my niece reminds her too much of the baby she lost. Although why a woman would spend all her life mourning the child she lost and not love the child who survived is beyond me!"

"Dat so? Vell, someone need to give her a talkin' to, a long one, an not let up till she get a clue. Bah," Djivan grumbles.

At long last, Olivia decides to enter the conversation by clearing her throat noisily. "Uh, excuse me, but could you two not talk about me as if I'm not in the room?" she asks, with as much patience as she can muster. "Besides, Aunt Augusta, I hadn't told him about my sister yet!" The older woman blinks and looks at her niece in a confused way before saying, "Well then, I'm glad I told him because it's high time someone did! The poor boy can't go walking about without a clue to this whole mystery forever, now can he?"

"Eh, people call me clueless most o' de time. I kinda used to it," Djivan quips.

Augusta barks another laugh and rises from the chair. "Now then," she says, a wicked gleam coming into her eyes, "I think that one good turn deserves another, don't you, my dears? Since your escort has so kindly told your mother just where to get off, Olivia -and rightly so! – I think I shall do the same. It's been a long time coming and besides – all that shouting I did just a minute ago has got me warmed up!" Before anyone can stop her, she strides to the door and opens it. Looking back over her shoulder, she adds, "And I would suggest that the pair of you take nice, hot baths before going to see that tribal elder of yours, Djivan. What were you two doing, slinging mug at each other on the way over here? Honestly!" She rolls her eyes heavenward and with that, goes out of the room and shuts the door behind her.

"Vhat?" Djivan asks and looks at Olivia. "I always look like dis. Well, less matted, but generally like dis." He then scratches his cheek and asks, "Vhat jus' happened here?"

Olivia looks back at Djivan, seeming a bit lost on the meaning behind recent events, herself. "You met my loony family, that's what," she says and frowns. "Goodness, I'll bet you're wondering if all the women on my mother's side are crazy." Then she stops, thinks for a moment, and adds, "I hope that's not what I'm going to be like at that age, either!"

Djivan rubs his chin, thinking. "No, vou no be like dat. She much wider den you," he observes.

Olivia laughs, hugs the Skreek, and finds a clean spot on his face to kiss. Snuggling into his arms for a moment, she says lightly, "You know, on the way back here, I was thinking about what I could do with some of that money my father gave me. And I thought… well… that I might like to use it to do some traveling for a month or so. With, um, your tribe, if Natasha will let me. What do you think?" she asks at last.

"Bah, vou not need dat much money for dat. Ve travel on de cheap, vou know. It no like we have much," Djivan notes, hugging her lightly. He chews his lip lightly, then adds, "An I doubt Natasha vould care if vou did come."

"Do you really think so?" Olivia asks eagerly, her face brightening even more. "Since she is your tribe's leader, I knew I'd have to ask her permission. Plus my aunt's of course, but I think that after all I've been through recently, she'll grant me just a little vacation!"

"Yeah, I don' t'ink she'd care really. Ve haf to find a vagon you kin use, of course. Or, I coul' just fix mine up and ve share. But, uh, I no touchin' de socks on de valls. Maybe I kin get Bravil to remove dem," Djivan plots, grinning.

Olivia just shakes her head at the thought of Bravil peeling Djivan's socks off his wagon's walls. "Well, we have craftspeople here who can make a wagon for me – maybe my father will even help them," she reminds him. "And I was thinking that some of the money could go towards a new roof for your wagon. We don't have to touch the socks, but those pots all over the place when it rains just have to go!"