MERMAIDS ARE REAL

Before he has a chance to black out completely, soft arms slip under his and tug him to the surface, breaking him through to the air he so desperately needs.

Unfortunately, given the ship's movements and how the crew is all wide awake and at work, Luna can't take him back immediately, instead having to opt for holding him against her, making sure his head is safely on her shoulder above the waves. The ship gets further and further away and she starts to panic for him, watching the safety of his rowboat begin to disappear from sight.

His body is heavy against hers and it strains her splinted tail to keep them both afloat but she manages, more focused on him being able to breathe than her discomfort and aching. She pats the side of his face gently to try to get him to refocus, pull his mind back to the moment and consciousness, but he seems to really be struggling against the desire to pass out, coughing and gasping.

Even if it's not the ship, she needs to get him somewhere out of the water, but where? There's a tiny insignificantly small island not too far from here, but what if she completely loses track of his ship in the process of taking him to it to recover? It still seems like the best bet for his sake.

Shand sees flashes of water, feels splinters of his lungs burning, tiny gasps of air, bubbles flowing from him. Everything punctuated by blackness, nothingness, until everything is gone and silent.

When he starts to become conscious again, everything around him is warm, radiating heat, and even though his eyes are still closed, he can tell how bright it is.

He starts to blink slowly, and he can tell immediately that one of his eyes is swollen and painful, but can still open. The sun is glaring down directly on him, and instead of water or his rowboat beneath him, there's warm, soft sand.

It's more comfortable than he'd been expecting he would feel after all of that, and his tired body begs him to just curl up in the sand, to revel in how gentle this all feels, to absorb it while he can, to sleep.

But it hits him quickly that he has no clue where he is. That forces his eyes wide open, stinging from the sudden intake of light, but they adjust soon and he looks around him to see sand surrounding him, and then water surrounding that as far as he can see. He's on a small island, a sandbar?

He struggles to remember how he got here- he struggles to remember anything. He remembers laying in the rowboat with Luna, stroking her hair, making sure her tail was wrapped and secure.

Luna... where is she? He tries to slip himself back into the water to look for her, but even as he tries to straighten himself, a sharp pain in his ribs prevents him from moving too far. He wraps an arm around his middle to try and calm the pain, to try and push himself into the water anyway.

Before he's even knee-deep in the ocean, a hand catches his leg to keep him from moving any further. Luna sits below him in the water, resting against the sand, laying out so her head comes just above his knee.

She's watching him, frowning at him, waiting for him to walk back to shore, upset he hadn't stayed there in the first place. When he refuses, even as he clutches his side, she sighs out some bubbles around her mouth, grabbing his pants and pulling him back.

He's really in no position to fight her so it's really more her towing him back to the dry sand, having to drag her own body up the shore with her free arm a little, until he's at least away from where the waves crash, leaving a small trench behind her as a trail. She pants a little at the physical exertion, but doesn't show much sign of her exhaustion other than that.

Once he's situated, she turns and drags herself back to at least the wet sand, flopping over and lying there for a moment to catch a break, let the water wash over her, retreat, then crash again.

He protests the whole way, mostly whining like a child and stopping short when he can't catch his breath, voice softer now that he can't inhale fully.

When he plops back down on the sand jarringly hard, he furrows his brow for a while. Him sitting here, her out there in the water. He hates the distance, and he misses having the rowboat, where he could just hang over the side and bring himself inches from her face. What he wouldn't give to be that close to her now.

"What happened?"

He grimaces as he has to raise his voice, yell over way the waves crash against the other side of the sand bar.

"What is this place? Are you okay?"

Luna turns, pressing the side of her face against the cool sand, looking back at him. She can't help but eye the distance between them for a few seconds, fighting back how upset it makes her, too, but she can't stay on the hot sand with him.

Instead, she forces herself to focus back on him, offering a small smile to tell him she's alright, that everything is fine. She points at the sun in the sky like the direction of it is supposed to answer his location question.

As she does, he looks about ready to stand or crawl over to her, like he had seen her distaste in the separation written all over her face... Maybe he had but she hadn't meant for him to. She pushes herself up with her arms, shaking her head at him quickly, afraid for him to come any closer to the water, almost like she thinks it hurt him and is afraid it will hurt him again.

Or maybe afraid she hurt him and is afraid she'll do it again.

She gives him an almost harsh look when he tries to come to her, and it catches him off guard. She seems insistent, like she thinks she's protecting him from something. He's not sure to how tell her that she's already protected him far more than he deserves.

That thought leaves him questioning, thinking, staring down into the sand forlornly as if she'd opened her mouth and scolded him.

"Why did you save me?"

He asks, his voice a little broken, breathless, a slight cringe on his face from the work his lungs are having to do. He takes in the rawness around his wrists, how tattered his clothes are from the whole ordeal. He knows his face is bruised and gashed and sunburned and his back isn't much better. She has to have figured out by now that all he'll ever do is cause trouble, cause pain, that he's not worth the risk of rescuing every time he gets himself into trouble.

Besides, she has her own problems. Here he is getting himself caught up in problem after problem, and she's dealing with that creature that wants to keep her locked away forever, wants to squeeze her into oblivion in some sick, twisted obsession. Clearly Shand does more harm than good. He can't even help her, and here he is draining energy and time from her when she should be resting, healing.

He can't lift his gaze up from the sand now, staring at it pointedly, like it would be better to not be looking at her when she realizes all this and decides to swim away for good.

He's now refusing to look at her and it makes her wonder if she did something wrong, if her expression was too harsh, when she really just meant to show concern, to show a desire to keep him from the two things that have nearly killed him: The ocean and herself.

It's been so long, nearly her entire life, since she's been able to interact with anyone other than Olvreign and maybe now her inability to socialize, her lack of upbringing with it, is showing and at his expense.

As he keeps his eyes from her, she drags herself back up onto shore just at the edge of the waves where the sand is damp but not soaked, staying clear of the hot dry sand where he is. It's suddenly dawned on her that, here, in some way, she can speak to him. She draws her finger through the sand, a little shaky, like she's forgotten the feeling of writing, getting her thoughts down, but she manages.

Done, she slaps her tail down in the water by her fin, splashing around a little, demanding his attention. His eyes meet hers first and now she looks down, directing him to her writing in the sand.

I love you.

It feels stupid to admit it, they've just met, but something about him pulls her in a way she's never felt before and the desire to express that in some way filled her up before she could reconsider the weight of her words.

But they're there now, spelled out for him to read.

He's concerned at first when she gets his attention, his gaze drifting from her to the marking in the sand.

Then, he realizes that she's trying to communicate with him, and a little bolt of happiness runs through him, an excitement, like something about the look on her face and these symbols is a new layer to who she is that he hasn't gotten to see yet.

But his eyes rove over what she's written in the damp sand and his heart drops. He can feel heat springing into his face and can't stop it for anything. His gaze drops again, and he turns his head slightly to try and prevent her from seeing the embarrassment, the shame.

"I️...I️ can't."

He swallows hard and tries to fight back this feeling of despair. Finally, a way they can communicate and she can speak to him. He can't imagine the relief she must have felt at realizing that, of having an outlet, a way to talk to him after all this time of probably being so frustrated and annoyed with him for his incessant chatter and how she can never answer his relentless questions.

He can only imagine how let down and disappointed in him she must feel now. He's disappointed in himself. He can only ever ruin things, be incompetent.

"I️ can't read."

He bites on the inside of his cheek for a moment before making himself meet her eyes again. After all the time and effort he's stolen from her, she at least deserves that.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't know where it comes from, but a stinging sensation pricks at his eyes and he's surprised that he suddenly feels like he might cry. It's ridiculous, and he should be stronger than this. If all he's good for is hauling nets and untangling lines like any other dumb sailor, he might as well give in to it and play the part by not breaking down.

Luna shakes her head quickly like it was a long shot he'd even be able to understand it in the first place. She doesn't even know if she writes in the same language his people so this was a toss-up anyways.

Quickly, afraid she's hurt him again, she leans over to the side of her proclamation, running a finger in the sand again, biting her lip, hoping this will at least get some of the feeling across.

Next to the words is a small symbol, a small heart, and she places her hand over her chest where hers is, then points to his chest where his is. It's not the best way to get her thought across, but it's all she can really think of.

So she smiles patiently up at him, trying to dismiss any negative feelings she may have caused him by trying to spell things out, by unintentionally reminding him of something he wishes he could forget. She's clearly not upset that he can't read, though, deep down, she is disappointed in herself for being the cause of the feelings of guilt and sadness that flash across his face.

He catches the look on her face first, the gentleness, the soft encouragement to keep going and not give up despite his ignorance. It makes the places deep inside him that had been rumbling with self hatred only moments before still, calm just enough for him to feel a little relief, like maybe he's not as much of a burden as he feels like he is.

He gives a small, tight lipped smile, wishing there was never a moment he had to go without seeing her face and feeling all the warmth and certainty it brings, the way it quiets everything in him that tries to take him down.

It's only after that that he sees the addition to her written message, a small heart that she's drawn in the sand beside the letters she's used. It feels like his heart stops for a moment, maybe longer than that, and the heat drains out of his face in shock at the realization.

"That... that says 'I️ love you'?"

He asks it tentatively, in disbelief, like the combination of her feelings and the fact that he'd figured out what the words say, what the letters stand for, are too much for him to take.

His smile gets a little bigger, slowly, as it starts to all sink in. He mops across his eye that isn't swollen with the back of his hand, hoping that she can't see the few tears that slipped out before he could stop them.

"I️... I️ love you too."

He looks down a little bashfully, scooting himself slowly, painstakingly, closer to where she's written the words, pulling his finger through the sand to add his own heart next to hers.

Luna's face heats up bright red, not really expecting him to say it back to her or draw his own little heart in addition. She can't help but hang her head and drop her face, shoulders shaking a little at the strong consuming emotions and feelings of this moment.

He watches her, says her name in a question, now concerned maybe he said something that had upset her, but even the worry in his voice sends her heart into a fit of flutters and her stomach feels twisted but light all at the same time.

She finally lifts her head to look back at him, some tears falling down her face from the corners of her eyes, but she's smiling. She smiling wide and bright and happy.

This feels different than all of the times Olvreign had ever said these words to her. This feels real and honest and true and it warms her heart and core in a way she's never felt.

So much so, she can't seem to keep control over the water spilling from her eyes.

At the look on her face, the surprise and the joy, how she starts crying a bit after staring down bashfully, he really can't take the distance between them anymore and he doesn't care what she says, he's not having it.

He starts wading slowly out to her until the waves knock him over hard, and he pushes along the sand to carry him out further. She's still trying to tell him to stop, and he's not sure if it's because she doesn't want him to get hurt, or whether there's something out where she is that he should be scared of, but he doesn't care.

He's finally close enough to her to reach out and touch her, and when he gets there, he stretches his arm out as far as it will go, feeling the muscles strain and sting and stretch, but the pain fades in his mind when she reaches out to grab his hand, close hers around it tightly like she never wants to let it go again.

The current takes care of the rest, and after the next wave passes, he's pulled her into his arms. The water is still shallow enough that he can stand, albeit not as firmly as he'd like. But with her tail, she's still partially bent over, tail flopping in the water beside them but all that Shand cares about is that he's close to her again.

"I️ wish I️ had a tail and I️ could just stay out here with you."

He says it softly now, his voice a little gravelly from the effort before and the diminished capacity of his breaths. But he holds her against his chest and the weight of her against his ribcage helps take away some of the pressure and the sting of breathing.

Luna's shoulders shake with her silent laugh, staring at him, content to stay pressed to him like this forever.

She shakes her head, lightly patting her tail against his legs, telling him she wishes she could have those instead and walk up on land with him. The thought of him changing himself in any way for her doesn't settle well in her stomach, even for a hypothetical situation. She loves him as he is, human and all.

Her lips find his cheek, and suddenly that night they fell asleep holding and kissing each other feels like a far-off memory. Too far-off. Like there was never supposed to be so much time between them and now, as if a day and a half was far too long to wait.

She starts placing desperately trails of kisses all over his face, leaving no inch untouched, face hot in embarrassment over her own quick actions but too happy to feel him close again to stop herself from doing what she wants, from enveloping him and his perfect human body in sweet light touches.

Shand is surprised by the quickness with which she lunges up at his face, starts pressing her lips to his forehead and his cheeks and all over, and at first he's startled by the movements.

But then when he realizes how she's looping her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, a tear still slipping from the corner of her eye now and then, he melts into it, too.

He wraps his arms around her back and decides he's had too much of her lips not on his. He catches her mid air as she's moving to kiss his bruised jaw and stops her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, letting his head tilt so he can press even further into her.

Even when that kiss is over, he presses more kisses into her top lip first, then her bottom, before he covers her mouth with his again, and before he really realizes he's doing it, his tongue is running across her bottom lip, pressing at it gently.

He pulls back quickly, surprised at himself, and looks almost sheepishly at her to try and determine if he's gone too far.

Luna pulls her head back a little, eyes wide, staring at him, moving her hand to gently touch her lips surprised.

He's watching her reaction closely, silently asking if she's okay, if he went too far, apologizing before she even has a chance to answer either of those questions.

Their eyes are locked in an unbreakable battle of trying to read each other and neither seems like they're going to budge on the matter, not until the other budges first. Her eyes drop to his lips, watching them, listening to his breath rush in and out of them, sees how they tremble in want but in guilt and hesitation.

He's always so used to being wrong, to someone telling him that something he's done, big or small, is wrong, never neutral or right, never okay or good. Or great and amazing and wonderful. She wants to tell him all those things, tell him all the reasons he's better than all the times she can only imagine he's lived through things like what she had heard from the ship yesterday.

But she can't speak, she can't tell him.

After the pause, she slowly leans forward, letting their breaths mingle for a second, then closes the gap, pressing their mouths back together, moving her lips against his, allowing some parting, allowing quiet access to herself for him. But she doesn't make the first move aside from the offer, wanting him to only take her up on it if he's comfortable with it.

She can't tell him but she can show him.

She presses their lips back together passionately, like she hates any and all time they're apart. He gets lost in her all over again, almost forgetting completely why he'd pulled away to start with.

Until he feels her mouth open slightly under his and his eyes open to watch what she's doing, what her expression is. When he opens his eyes, she's looking right back at him, blinking up at him with a smile playing in her eyes.

It's electrifying, to feel her lips under his, her skin pressed into his, to be breathing together like this and to be looking right into each others' eyes from so close.

It takes his breath away completely for a second, until the same hunger washes over him and he realizes this is her permission. So he doesn't waste another second. He lets his tongue slip gently back against her mouth, across the insides of her lips, running along the tops of her teeth, like it wants to memorize her from the inside out.

One hand finds its way into her hair, cradling the back of her head softly, like it's the most precious thing he's ever held, while his hand feels along the skin at her waist, like his fingers are mesmerized by how smooth and soft her skin is.

His eyes slip back closed, like he's enraptured by this moment and never wants it to end.

A strong shiver runs down her spine all the way to the tip of her tail, out through her billowing fin, goosebumps form along after the touch of his hand on her waist, across her skin. It's light and gently, yet eager and firm, tracing over every contour like she's some precious treasure in his hand.

In reality, he really more fits that definition. She's not sure she'll ever find another human like him for as long as she exists, someone that can easily hold her like this, swim along beside her, willingly cut her from nets at the expense of his own health, live through what he has and, miraculously, pull through with a good portion of his heart and spirit intact.

It seems impossible but here he is, cupping her head in his hand, exploring her mouth with his, pressing her close like this is the only place either of them belong. Granted, she knows he can't stay here forever. She'll have to get him somewhere with food and nourishment, but, for now, for today, she's happy to be here, to run her tongue along his, follow his lead.

Just like before, she lets her hands explore, brushing through his hair, passing over the small shells still tangled within, curling some locks around her fingers, while her other hand slips over his bare chest, tracing a tail up the center of him then along every branching muscle, reverent and in awe of him.

He doesn't want to stop kissing her- no, he'll never stop kissing her, especially like this, with their tongues both exploring gently, sweetly. Heads tilted back offering breathy exhales into the others' mouths like this is something holy, only fit for whispers.

His hands are trailing up her waist and down the side of her body where her tail, her scales seamlessly meet her skin, and the transition has mesmerized his hands, running them up and down her over and over to feel the smoothness fade into tightly woven texture.

He's not paying as much attention to where his hands are going as he is where his lips are, and he pulls away for as deep a breath as he can manage with his bruised ribs and his hands run up the length of her body and onto her breasts.

He's a bit surprised at first, not meaning to touch her there at all, but now that he has, thinking he should have before. But still, he watches her face to be sure that she's alright with it, and by how she pulls him back in to her lips again, she doesn't mind.

He lets his fingers poke into the soft, tender skin and brush along her nipples and the skin around them, taking in the different feels and textures, how after a few strokes, her nipples are harder under his fingers than they were when he started.

It forces a little hum of satisfaction out of his mouth and into hers, and feeling the vibrations of his own voice rumble in her mouth makes him want to laugh, like maybe in time they'll become the same person. But at the same time, it saddens him because he knows he loves her, he knows he never wants to leave her side ever, but he doesn't know what her voice sounds like.

He'll love her forever anyway, even if he never hears her voice, but he wants to know her top to bottom, inside and out, everything there is to know, and it feels like a piece that will be missing, frustrating her probably even more. But it doesn't matter in this moment. He presses his lips to hers even more passionately, one hand rubbing the smooth skin at her jaw, down the side of her neck.

Luna's brow furrows, her mouth hesitating as he feels over her skin, feels over her breasts, her heart beating wildly against his hand. This is new, this is different, this is hot and passionate and yet somehow natural and desirable.

All things she's not used to feeling but finds herself wanting to keep feeling over and over. His hand is warm and greedy but still warm and sweet. He is a melting pot of seemingly contradicting characteristics that, somehow, all seem to fit together so well and make up who he is so perfectly.

It's not really fair for one person to have all of this. What does it leave for everyone else in the world? Not much. Yet, against all odds, all of this is here in front of her, in her hands, holding her, grasping her, feeling her to memorize her. How and why the universe decided to suddenly line up to get him to her, she'll never know, but she wants the stars to stay where they are if it means keeping him here.

Her own hands move to his sides, massaging into his hips, and the world gets bright, blazing, spins a little as she suddenly realizes how light-headed she is from kissing at him so much. They should probably lay down up on the sand before they both fall over, but she's powerless to move him here on land.

She seems a little unsteady for a moment, and he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her up, tail and all, and starts staggering back through the water until it's shallower.

Right where the tide rushes onto the sandbar, with the water at knee level, he places her gently on the sand with the water rushing around her middle and flops down with her.

Water droplets splash up and her and she shields herself from them, and Shand thinks that maybe mermaids don't get a lot of water fights underwater.

So he leans back and drags his hand through the water, splashing it up onto her in sheets of forceful droplets and she covers her face from the water.

He'd planned to keep splashing at her for as long as she'd let him, but the water sits in her eyelashes and she has that look on her face like she'd be laughing. And he can't be this far away from her any more.

He leans back into her and kisses at her jaw, works his way planting kisses down her neck, his lips working at the skin, his tongue following suit.

Then he's at her chest, and he kisses along her collarbone tenderly, lightly, glancing up at her periodically to see how she's reacting.

He goes lower, pressing a soft, quick kiss into the tip of one nipple, then the skin around it, then letting his tongue flick out to lick it. He sneaks a little look up at her and pauses at her chest.

Before he can even look up, she’s got his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks and pulling him away, looking back and forth between his mouth and her now wet red skin. It looks like she doesn’t quite understand the sensation still, even despite this not being the first time they’ve kissed each other and at each other.

She’s not upset, just curious, pressing her thumb to his lips with a quizzical expression, expecting one of his long rambling answers that she’s come to know and love.

But he doesn’t say anything. He just stays where he is, staring up at her, letting her silently question, silently try to figure all of this out. Her body is reacting strongly to him, her heart pounding and nipples hard and prevalent, her tail flipping and splashing impatiently like it knows exactly what’s happening and demands her hands not stop it, splashing some water up on his back.

And who is she to argue, really? She lets go of his face, sliding her hands down to the sides of his neck, watching her skin slide against his, eyes half-lidded in the process of seeing her pale color press into the tan color of his chest, seeing his muscles twitch and tense under her touch like each one begs for her to hold it. It brings a bashful blush to her face alongside a small proud but shy smirk, knowing she’s causing this reaction.

The way he’s leaned over her and how he sees his hands start moving from keeping himself propped up in the sand towards her body forces a shaky sigh from her, and she melts at the first touch of him, closing her eyes when she notices the world start to spin.

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He could lay in the sand with her and kiss her all day. He thinks maybe he will. It almost feels like her skin keeps getting softer and smoother under his lips, her nipples getting harder and harder as he continues to play around them with his tongue, letting her shocked but approving looks and tiny, noiseless gasps spur him on.

She keeps a gentle hand on his head, fingers brushing through his hair at the same speed at which his tongue swirls around her skin, her other hand rubbing gently over his shoulders, careful to avoid the seaweed bandages that at this point have all but fallen off.

He pushes himself up to kiss her jaw, kiss her lips again, and he pulls away momentarily to just look at her. He's overcome with how much he feels for her, how he can have never heard her voice before, but would gladly throw himself in front of anything and die for her if need be.

That thought drags him down slightly, and for a moment he does fall back in the sand, brow furrowed, mouth missing the feel of her skin, but his brain churning. A questioning looks grows over her face too as she touches his inquisitively.

"How are we going to do this?"

His voice is small and soft against the white noise, but he looks up into her eyes earnestly, legitimately searching for any way, for any plan that will keep them together.

"It has to be you and me... it has to be. Forever. But how are we gonna do it?"

She looks at him like for the first time since they met she finally doesn’t understand him, her hands on the sides of his face to pull him closer, study him further to understand.

The two of them together forever... Seems impossible now that she thinks about it. She can swim to wherever he is for the rest of her life and probably will, but is that fair? Shouldn’t she let him move on and find an actual human woman to settle down with... Well, with him probably not so much as “settle down” but rather love and hold then wait until he returns to shore after sailing to love and hold again.

Wouldn’t that be best for him? Its what other humans do. They don’t fall in love with and chase after a mythical creature they can’t really spend much time with or that can’t be around them under normal circumstances. He can’t stay in the water forever and she can’t even get on land more than a few feet up the shore. Is this sustainable?

Probably not but she wants it to be. She wants it to be more than she’s even wanted her own freedom or voice. This is better than both those things. He listens and tries to understand without her speaking and she feels freer than she’s ever been lying in a rowboat with him.

But how can they keep this going?

Luna tucks her head under his chin, pressing her face into his neck and shoulder, locking her arms around her back and staying there. She’d stay on this sandbar like this with him forever if they could, bring him food from the ocean, swim and find him things to show him and keep him entertained, but that’s no life to live.

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He lets his eyes roam out over the sea, and he doesn't tell her, but he's thinking about the creature that had claimed her earlier. When he thinks about forever with her, he's not so much preoccupied with the ocean and land that keeps them apart, but that gross and terrible thing.

She's never going to be free as long as that creature still thinks it owns her. And Shand has been thinking, brain churning slowly and angrily, about what he's going to do about it ever since he first saw them in that cave.

He can feel her snuggle in tighter to his neck and he sighs.

"I️ wish you could tell me about that other mermaid that I️ saw earlier. I️ wish I️ knew why she treats you like that. Maybe then we could fix it."

Shand has always thought in terms of fixable and not fixable, and the things that fall into the first category have always been in greater number than those in the second. Even things that maybe should have been deemed unfixable have often been approached as the opposite. And it can't be any different now.

He does want to fix things for her, fix everything. She's not happy with that other mermaid hanging over her shoulder, and it's doing her physical damage on top of that.

It seems insurmountable. He can barely hold his breath long enough to make it down to that cavern normally, much less in this condition, with several ribs most likely bruised. Beyond that, he's not even sure where he is anymore. It's unlikely that Luna would take him back to that spot again.

That in itself begs another question. He pulls away from her a little so he can look down at her, catch her bright blue eyes.

"You don't like that other thing, do you? You don't want her in your life at all, right?"

At first, she pouts up at him, clearly upset he pulled away from her, no matter how slight it was. But his question gives her something else to focus on.

Something she clearly doesn't want to focus on.

Her eyes dart from his back out over the ocean nervously, scanning around the horizon, avoiding his gaze for a moment, looking out over the scene. Looking for something. It's like she believes the other creature is out there watching, listening, spying on them, waiting for this answer.

More than that: Waiting to catch better glimpses at Shand, at the human that knows too much and is asking the dangerous questions boldly and openly.

Foolishly.

As if that wasn't answer enough, she eventually looks back at him, the worry now focused up at him directly, but it takes her another moment to respond, still trying to weigh if she can safely be honest out here in the open with no shelter.

Slowly, she shakes her head.