The Whitewhisker Residence – As the rabbits all troop through the door, they're greeted by the warm glow of a cheery fire blazing away in a broad stone hearth. Mats of woven plant fiber checker the hardwood floors, and where there are chairs, there are also cushy rugs of cotton-like material, thick and teased up to allow people around the hearth to sink their toes into it for chilly nights. Decorative plates line the mantle, and paintings of various rabbits hang from the walls, spaced by tapestries bearing (presumably) the Whitewhisker family crest. Here and there, bookcases and end tables hold knickknacks from generations having lived in this sturdy stone building.

Spencer is the first through the door, and he wipes his feet on the doormat reflexively, even as he sheds his quiver and longbow and sets them aside. "Ma! I'm home! I've brought guests!"

Anisa's nose twitches as she follows her brother and his friend through the door, and she looks over her shoulder to make sure Wanda was able to catch up after the quick run. Too bad Skeeks have such short legs. "Are you sure we should tell her we're here?" she whispers. "We need to get to that crate!"

Spencer shrugs as Gibson, who also wipes his feet and hangs his skedat shell on a coat rack, enters shortly after Anisa. A draft of cool evening air follows Gibson inside, and he closes the door behind him while Spencer explains, "I always do that when I come in. If she heard the door open and close without someone saying who it was, she'd come into the foyer to see who it was."

Farther in the house, past an archway, a matronly voice calls out, "All right, dear! I'll set a few more places at the table. Dinner in a few minutes, so don't just charge right back out!"

The white rabbit mouths a silent "oh", and nods to the brown Lapi. She gives the room a quick look over. "Wow, this is a lot more… rustic than back home," she looks up to Gibson with a grin, "and not as crowded." Her ears perk up at the mother's voice, and she tries to get a look back in the dining area. "I hope the crate isn't here yet, but Royce is probably going insane."

"Yeah, well… we're not as civilized as you big-shot Rephidimites." The brown rabbit snickers to himself, then glances back at the archway. "I can ask Ma if the crate's gotten here yet. She's probably been busy making dinner, so she wouldn't have messed with it, if it got here."

Gibson grins back. "Oh, there's plenty of Whitewhiskers… they just have their own agendas."

Anisa nods, and after nervously giving another glance about, takes a seat in one of the chairs. "Oh, there are more of them too?" She shrugs, "I guess we must all have big families." The rabbit looks towards the door. "Did you see Wanda anywhere? I thought she was right behind us."

The black rabbit glances through a semi-circular window in the door. "I think we left her in the dust. She didn't look built for sprinting."

Anisa frowns. She gets up from her seat and joins her brother near the window. "Dagh, I'd probably better go out and look for her." She stops, then grimaces. "That is, if I knew where to look. I just followed you the whole way here!"

Spencer pulls on one of his ears, massaging it with his thumb. "Well, it'd be rude to make her come to dinner late. I can go look for her if you want. I know the way to the airfield and back. I keep forgetting it's a little ways outside town limits, 'cause I've always been able to get there and back pretty quick."

The white Lapi whews, wiping a paw across her brow. "If you would, I'd be very grateful. It's her first time here too, and I doubt she could find her away here on her own." She retakes her seat, flopping down in it heavily. "Once we get the brat out of his box, then I can finally relax!"

"Sure thing!" The energetic bowman opens the door again, letting more cool air in for a moment before hopping through it. The door slams shut after him, then opens again. Spencer's head pokes in, and he calls out, "Ma! I'm gonna go get one of Gibson's friends; I'll be right back!" The door closes again, and there's some thumping, and a little ruckus outside as someone says, "Hey, watch it!"

Anisa blinks as Spencer bolts out the door. "Gee, he's sure a… peppy one, isn't he?" She grins, and with a yawn, slips her ear-tie off of her ears. Looking up to the black Lapi, she smiles. "So, now that we're not running or out in the middle of the open, what have you been up to?"

Gibson laughs. "Yeah, that's what I like about ol' Spencer. He's always enthusiastic." He rubs the back of his head, and takes a deep breath. "Whew… What haven't I been up to, lil' sis? I guess I should clue you in to why I wanted Quinn here, so – " He's interrupted by a knock at the door.

The white Lapi sits forward, intent on listening to her brother's exploits, only to have her newly freed ears reflexively point towards the door. "Who is that?"

The knock comes again, and the faint sounds of hooves pawing the ground farther out can be made out. "Hello?" comes a voice from behind the door. "Hello? Joane Whitewhiskers? We're porters from the airfield! We have a crate for you."

Anisa's eyes open wide, and she looks at Gibson. "Well," she whispers, "Open it! It's him!" The white Lapine's nose twitches at a hundred miles per hour.

Sighing, Gibson opens the door.

A tall Cervani holding a board with tacked papers on it looks up from his distribution sheets. "Oh, hello there. Is Ma Whitewhiskers around? We've got her shipment." The stag gestures back at a box-laden cart in the roadway, hitched to a pair of Dromodons.

"Yeah," begins Gibson. "We – "

From the archway, Joane calls out, "Coming! Coming! Give me a moment!"

The little sister Lapi arches a brow. "Her name is actually 'Ma'?" She gets up from her chair, and takes a look at the crate, trying to see if it's the same one. She cringes as she hears the matron come. "Quick! Open it before she gets in here!"

"Well, everyone knows everyone in this t – " Gibson seems destined never to finish a sentence. Alas, there isn't time to pry a sealed crate open, wrestle its contents out, cover it again and sweep up the glue bits either before a somewhat chubby Lapi woman bustles out, still wiping her hands on a cloth. Her softly rounded face looks motherly and careworn, with wrinkles around the eyes and deep dimples in the cheeks. A wide smile causes her whiskers to fan out, like white spokes on a wheel. "Is it my shipment of cloth? … Oh! Hello there, Gibson! Who's this pretty young thing you've brought with you?"

Anisa spins about as Joane enters the room, a look of surprise replacing her look of annoyance. This look, however, is quickly replaced by a shy one, her ears blushing bright red at the comment. "Oh, er, hello ma'am… "

"Hi, Mrs. Whitewhiskers!" says Gibson, recovering a bit and smiling lopsidedly. "This is my sister, Anisa. Anisa, this is Joane Whitewhiskers. Most people in Half Valley call her 'Ma'."

The stout Lapi woman clucks her tongue, patting one of Gibson's forearms. "And you're just too polite to! Tsk! You're one of the family!" She beams at Anisa, her eyes crinkling up. "Oh, I should have guessed! I see that Snowshoe influence in you… and you look so much like Bea did when we were younger! My, she raised a beautiful daughter." Meanwhile, the Cervani in the doorway coughs.

The white Lapi looks down to the floor in embarrassment, giving a small smile. "Thank you, ma'am. I didn't know Mom had any friends outside of Rephidim… " She breaks off to look back to the Cervani. "Oh, I think he has something for you." She makes a quick look at Gibson, then brings back her smile.

"Oh, of course! My cloth! Please, bring it into the living room, boys," she says, gesturing at the Cervani and a Rhian in the street who's currently unloading the crate to the best of his ability. "Just drop it off in the living room. I know you have rounds to keep! I'll have to get Spencer and his father to carry it to the sewing room for me."

Anisa backs away from the door to give the movers some room. "Um, Gibson and I could move it for you. ma'am. That way it won't clutter up the living room." She gives a bright smile.

Joane cants her head to the side, pursing her lips and waving a paw at Anisa. "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. You're guests – and besides, you're a lady, not a porter. Moving things around is all the menfolk are good for." The matron winks.

Meanwhile, Gibson makes room as the Cervani and Rhian shuffle in with the box between then, grunting every so often. "Wow, pretty heavy for cloth," puffs the stag. They set their load down, and with a nod at Joane, return to their wagon.

Gibson glances at Anisa. "Er… well… I'm sure my sister wouldn't mind… "

"Shame on you, Gibson," chides Ma.

The black Lapi's ears droop.

Anisa puts a paw over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Well, that makes them good for something I guess. But seriously, I don't mind at all!" She widens her buck-toothed smile. "I help move stuff at the Tavern all the time!"

"Is that so? My, my! Well, I'll have to have Bea tell off Abrahm if I get around to writing another letter. You're so kind to offer, dear." The graying Lapi smiles again, and points down a wooden-lined hall. "The sewing room is that way… It's on the right when you go into the den. I'd better check on my vegetable stew to be sure it's not boiling over."

Inwardly, the white Lapi breathes a sigh of relief. "It's no problem at all, ma'am! This way, Spencer and Mr. Whitewhiskers can come in and not have to do any more work before eating. I'm sure they've done a lot today. Me and Gibson'll have no trouble getting it down there, and I bet he's been lazy all day anyways!" She gives her brother a playful punch in the arm.

"Yeah, we… oof!" Gibson takes a step to keep his balance, and rubs the side of his arm. "Ow, ankh, lil' sis… no knuckles!"

Joane laughs, and turns to head back for the kitchen. "All right! I'll be sure to set aside an extra-thick slice of candied sugarbeet loaf for the both of you."

Anisa keeps her smile on as the motherly rabbit walks out of the door, then, as soon as she's out of sight, runs to the side of the crate. She gives a small knock on the side, and in a loud whisper, says, "Royce, you alive in there?"

There's a weak scratching on the other side of the lid.

The white Lapi frowns, and her ears fall back behind her back. "Gib, quick! Let's get this thing into the sewing room and get it open! I don't think Royce is doing good in there!" She gets to one side, and grabs the crate to lift it.

Gibson nods worriedly in agreement, and squats to lift the other end. "One, two, three, hup!" Between the two of them, the crate is lifted up, and Gibson begins backing toward the wood-lined hall.

Anisa follows, taking the end of the crate and hurriedly shuffling her feet down the hall. "Do we have anything to open it with?"

"If the glue didn't re-stick too much, we might be able to just use our paws," muses Gibson, narrowly avoiding a wooden pedestal and bust as he's nearly pushed backwards by Anisa. "I think it'll just take a little elbow grease. If not, I can borrow a pry bar from the tool shed."

The hall ends, and the pair make their way through a comfortably appointed den – though in the rush, there isn't much time to look at it.

The white rabbit nods, and points an ear down at the crate to try and get a listen at her little brother.

There's no sound from the crate, even as it's brought into the sewing room, and Gibson deposits his end of the box on the floor. Colorful quilts hung from the walls and over a bedspread do little to distract the black Lapi, who begins digging his nails at an edge of the lid. "Uff… Doesn't he have any air holes or anything? Fortunately, it looks like there's a good deal of cracks and warps in the wood, but… "

Anisa drops her end of the crate as well, and tears at the lid like her brother. "I didn't even think of that!" Her face becomes a flood of worry as she starts to pry wildly at the lid. "Dagh take it all! Please be all right! Please!"

Flakes of glue come free as Anisa and Gibson work at the lid. With some good purchase and a combined effort, the lid pops off, revealing a splotchy rabbit curled on his side in the box. Royce doesn't move at first, but then his eyes squint shut, and he begins breathing a bit more deeply. "Ughhnn… "

The white Lapi grabs her little brother, and clumsily tries to pull him from the box, although he's just a bit heavy for her. "Dagh take it, Royce, don't scare me like that!" She hugs the patchwork Lapine, trying to hide the few tears in her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Nuh… Ani… suh?" Royce's head lolls for a moment, then he holds it up, clutching at the side of it. "Mnn… I think'm… okay… real bad headache." A concerned Gibson kneels nearby, helping to get Royce out of the box.

Anisa heaves a heavy sigh of relief, laughing a bit and quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. "Don't scare us like that, carrot-brain!" She stands up, trying to help Royce get to his feet. "How long were you out?"

"I… dunno," mumbles Royce, his voice somewhat thick. He seems to get steadily more alert as the fresh air livens him up a bit, though it's not a fast process by any means. "I was fine for a while, but it started to get really stuffy in there. I guess I fell asleep or passed out for a little while after that, then when I felt a bump, and woke up here." He shakes his head, then winces. "It's really scary to wake up someplace like that. Ugh, my arms and legs are so sore."

Gibson's ears tip back and forth. "I should probably take Royce outside for some fresh air."

Anisa gives shudders, and gives Royce another quick hug. She nods to Gibson, "Yeah, let him get some air. When you come back, we'll say he wasn't feeling good when he got off the ship and let him be escorted home, or took him to a doctor or something. I'll wait here for Wanda and Spencer to come back. Maybe I can help Joane out in the kitchen."

"So… we made it?" Royce smiles a little. "I have to hand it to you, Anisa, it all worked. For a little while, I thought I'd wake up in a holding cell."

Gibson shakes his head, and works at helping his groggy little brother up. "All right, Anisa. But Star and Anchor, sis! You shouldn't be so reckless!" He pauses, then smirks a bit, and sighs. "Of course, look who's talking… anyway… c'mon, Royce… up an' at 'em, Champion. Let's go by the river."

The white Lapi follows behind her brothers as they make their way back out into the den. "Oh, before you go, can I talk to Royce real quick? I need to ask him something about the… luggage." She smiles. "You go outside, and he'll meet you."

Gibson furrows his brow. "I'm not in a big rush or anything."

Anisa thinks quickly. "It's just a few things, and kind of, well… embarrassing," she feigns a blush, "I don't want anyone but him to know."

"And it can't be said in front of me?" The black Lapi looks hurt, and turns slightly to the side. "I'm your big brother, Anisa. You could bring anything to me."

The female Lapi frowns. She hates keeping stuff from Gibson, even if it's most dire. "Well," she looks hesitant, and then sighs. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell a soul, especially Spencer and his family."

Past the den and into the wooden hallway again, Gibson stops and sighs. He looks like he wanted to say something and instead bit it off. After a brief pause, he nods, and continues walking to the foyer. "All right, let's all go outside." He calls through the arch leading to the kitchen, "Mrs. Whitewhiskers? We moved the box into your sewing room! We're going to… uh… go pick up my little brother Royce! He was delayed a bit!"

"All right, sweetheart! Thank you both! But hurry back!" comes the reply. "I should have dinner on the table soon, and it'll be cooling by the time you and Spencer get back! I'll keep some hot on the stove for you."

Anisa frowns, hanging her ears low as she follows Gibson and Royce out the door. "Well, you know that snake that had his boxers in a bunch about having something stolen, back on the ship?"

Outside, the air has cooled down quite a bit… autumn in Half Valley seems to have something of a nip. It's just as foggy out as it was before, but Gibson seems to know where he's going, nodding at Anisa as they walk. Royce no longer needs help, though he still looks a bit under the weather.

Gibson nods. "Yeah, I heard some things about that from Spencer, since he's part of the militia, but not with any detail."

Anisa shivers a bit and crosses her arms, still wearing the simple shirt she borrowed from Wanda. "Well, it's like this." She frowns, trying to figure out how to phrase it the best. "My friend Wanda sort of… borrowed the book, just to prove that she could. That's when Dagh's pit broke loose and they started searching everyone." She sighs, and runs her fingers through her ears. "And I helped her get it off the ship, but we're gonna give it back! Promise!"

Royce mumbles, "A Naga's boxers in a bunch… not a very good turn of phrase… "

Gibson ignores Royce, and walks on in silence for a little while.

The white Lapi looks up at her big brother worriedly, then looks away with a cringe. Something tells her she's about to get the third degree…

Swirling eddies of fog trail after the rabbits as they walk onward quietly, occasionally passed by a militiaman carrying a lantern. They cross a bridge over a wide and calm river, and Gibson finally stops, leaning on the handrail to look into the dark waters below. After a little bit, he looks up. "Anisa… I don't want to come off sounding like Dad, but… I just… dunno. I didn't think… I don't think it's like you to … help steal something like this. I guess I'm not one to set a good example, though." He sighs, leaning over the rail a bit more to rest his chin on his paws.

Anisa looks down at the ground, a look of shame crossing her face. Condemnation from Mom and Dad she can take, but not from Gibson. "I-I promise we'll give it back. It was just this stupid metal book, and we just wanted to look at it. And all we – huh? Not one to set a good example?" She looks up from the ground, and quizzically at Gibson.

Royce quietly takes a seat on the edge of the bridge, letting his legs stick through the supports of the rail, and dangle over the edge of the bridge. He stays silent.

"What do you mean?" asks Anisa. She thinks back, then remembers something. "This isn't about those things you sent us, is it?"

"Well… you know." Gibson reaches down toward his belt to take up the skedat shell he retrieved on his way out of the house. He affixes it to his right forearm, then lets his paws rest on the railing again. "Mom and Dad wanted me to stay around with Snowshoe's, but I wasn't willing. I had to go off and do my own thing. Stuff they probably wouldn't agree with. There's trouble, sometimes. You wouldn't be here, if there wasn't."

"So I kind of wonder if what you did isn't my fault," finishes Gibson. He flicks his right wrist, and a small smooth stone falls into his paw. He draws his arm back, and throws the stone without much force of conviction. The stone plunks somewhere into the river, the fog obscuring the splash.

"Your fault?" The white Lapi eyes her brother, her nose twitching slightly. "Gibson, I want you to level with me: Why did you want Quinn out here? What was the deal with those things you sent us? Baleforte' seemed interested in them."

"Well, that's on a slightly different tack. I'm not sure I understand it totally either," replies Gibson thoughtfully. He gives his skedat shell another shake, and another smooth stone places itself in his fist. "Back when I first left home, I was just looking for some excitement… something interesting, something that would challenge me. To keep myself fed while I searched, I signed on as a guard with some caravaners."

Still shivering slightly, Anisa props her arms up on the guard railing of the bridge, turning her ears to listen to Gibson while she stares down into the stream.

Gibson flips his wrist again, and the stone sails off into the mist again, landing somewhere with a "ploonk". "It was regular work, and I got to travel a lot, see some of the world. In Babel, we were bringing a shipment of art objects to a museum, and we had some time off. Most of the guys headed into town to do some carousing, but I liked looking around the museum. It was like traveling, but into the past of a country, instead of the country itself. I met a historian named Weiler." Gibson pronounces it as "Wheeler". "He noticed I took an interest in history, and he shared a lot of interesting facts with me. When my caravan was ready to leave, he offered me a position as his assistant… nothing important, of course. But I think he knew I cared about what he cared about."

Anisa nods, to Gibson. "I never took you for a history buff. Go on."

The black Lapi leans away from the railing, standing up straight again. "I was Weiler's assistant for a couple years or so. I kept learning things as I worked, helping him categorize exhibits, and things like that. It was always fun to see what came in… a lot of it Babelite, but there were other things, like Savanite Death-Sticks… Nagai pottery… Khattan scimitars made of glass. Amazing things. Weiler brought some of them back himself, but he was getting old. More and more, it was just things that diggers would bring him, and that's pretty slim pickings. I started to help him on his searches."

"Is that how you were able to send me all those neat things all the time?" asks Anisa."

Gibson rubs the edge of his skedat shell against the wood of the bridge rail, pulling up a few splinters. "Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes we'd find lots of little things, or relatively common things, and Weiler didn't mind if I had my own little personal collection. There's only so much the museum can exhibit at a time. Anyway, after the second year, Weiler wanted to retire. He decided that, although I'm no scholar, I knew enough about archeological procedure to lead searches myself. The museum offered him a passive job as one of the curators, and he accepted it. It was a nice arrangement, for a while… "

Anisa blinks. "So you're an arche-, er, archo- um… a what?"

"No, I'm not an archeologist." Gibson shrugs, and turns away from the rail to lean his back and elbows against it. "You need years of study for that, devoting your whole life, like Weiler did. I don't know what happened, but Weiler disappeared after a few months. We couldn't figure it out. Without his support, the museum suffered internal politicking… it's a Babelite thing, I think. It eventually collapsed, and I went out on my own. With what I learned, I started my own "history hunts", as I like to call them. I've managed to keep myself doing all right, selling the artifacts to museums and collections that're local, identifying them, that kind of thing."

The white rabbit can tell her brother is about to make a change here somewhere. "Then what?"

"Then… then it got really strange. I still don't know how to explain it." Gibson finally looks at his younger sister, his eyes serious despite his boyish face. "I was spending some time trying to deal with relic trafficking… You remember from the letter? That's the practice whereby artifacts are stolen, or grave-robbed, and sold for profit."

Anisa frowns and nods, trying to remember the letter as best she can. "Wasn't it about some guy named, Jiffilube or something? I can only remember bits and pieces of the letter… "

Royce speaks up at last. "Jipulu, Anisa. I remember that part of the letter. The Temple initiates talked about trafficking sometimes. It's a pretty heavy offense in some places, and has to run through a lot of channels."

Gibson nods, and continues, "I was tracking some of this stuff … pretty major. I thought I was in over my head even before I started, but I couldn't back down. I managed to hang on, and work through different leads. Luck played no small part. Then you'll recall the events I described in the letter to you. I feel like people have been watching me. I've had to keep a low profile while I researched the things I got from Jipulu's stash, and why it's so important. I've only gotten snippets here and there. It was like the culture itself was trying to suppress information about its own things. That reminds me, do you still have the First Stone?"

"First Stone?" Anisa looks at Gibson strangely, "The only stones you sent us were that black brick and the trinket you sent me. You never gave them a name." She fishes around in her pockets, and pulls out the hunk of glass that was her present. "I grabbed it from the luggage as I came down the gangplank. That snake guy seemed interested in it, and I don't trust him."

Royce clucks his tongue. "He means that funny glowing pendant, Anisa. The one that was supposed to go to Quinn."

Anisa blinks. "Oh! That's right, you did give that one a name!" She fishes around in her trouser pockets some more, and finally finds the pendant. (Since she doesn't carry a purse, her pockets get rather full.) She hands the piece over to the larger black rabbit. "What is so special about it?"

Gibson holds the pendant in his palm, the crystal cycling leisurely from cyan to green, and back again. "I'm not totally sure. But some people want it. Some dangerous people, Anisa, people whom I'm sure mustn't have it. There's a reason the culture this belonged to didn't want to give up much information on it – of that I'm certain. But I think whomever these people are, they'll be waiting for me if I try to contact the authorities about this. I'll either be locked up on suspicion of trafficking the stuff Jipulu had, or singled out as a target. I didn't really know where to turn, and so I tried Quinn, and now… now… " He closes his fist, and it tightens. "Now I've dragged my little sister and brother into this mess. I can't just leave it be. That's why I think it's my fault."

Anisa frowns, and moves closer to Gibson. "Hey, don't say that! We dragged ourselves into this!" She looks to Royce as if seeking back up. "Besides, it's not like I'm a kid anymore. I'm twenty-one years old, I can take care of myself!" She turns around, and hops up onto the railing, using it as a seat. "We'll be able to help you more than Quinn could anyways, and besides, it's an adventure!" She smiles. "Just like the ones you always wrote home about!"

Gibson nods, and hunkers down again. "This feels different somehow, Anisa. I don't know if I can go it without your help, but… I don't want you to risk anything on mistakes I've made. I may have already made another one if that Naga took such a deep interest in your belongings. He might be 'one of them'."

There's a scuffling sound as Royce gets up, hefting himself up by the railing and unthreading himself from the support posts.

The female Lapi shrugs. "If he is, then we'll keep an eye on him as well. Besides, we still have to find that book. It was his. And if he is 'one of them', then maybe it'll give us some insight as to what the heck is going on." She looks over to Royce as he stands up. "Feelin' better? Maybe we should start back."

A drop of water hits Anisa in the left eye.

A few moments later, another one darkens a spot of wood on the railing, and one of Royce's ears twitches as another drop apparently lands in one of them.

The black Lapi looks up at the sky.

"Ow – hey!" Anisa gives a start, and teeters a bit on the railing, trying to keep her balance. "Dagh, its raining! We'd better hurry back!"

A few more spots darken the bridge, and both the male rabbits nod. "Ugh, you're right," says Gibson. "Let's head back to the Whitewhisker place. Spencer and your… uh, friend… might be back by now."

Nodding, the white Lapine jumps down from the railing, a huge grin on her face. "Feel like racing yet, Royce?"

The grumbling patchwork rabbit rubs his head. In the distance, there's a pattering sound as more drops begin causing the trees to rustle. "That headache is still there, but I don't feel like getting drenched either. And I'm so hungry, I could eat a sky garden."

Grinning, Anisa nods. "Gib, you lead the way! My fur is getting drenched!" She looks up at the sky with annoyance.

Gibson does so obligingly, holding his arms over his head as he does so. "Rain's a pretty regular thing on the coast!" he says, a bit louder to compensate for the drumming of the rain as it grows in strength. Somewhere in the distance, thunder mutters.

The sister rabbit follows after her big brother at a fast pace, but not so fast as to lose her little brother, whom she checks on every now and then by looking over her shoulder. She lost him twice this trip already, and isn't going to do it again.

A brisk run through the fog brings happily yields no collisions, and the warm, inviting light of the Whitewhisker homestead's windows lies ahead.