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Hadrian Rivers pulled his cloak hood up to keep the rain out of his face and soaking his long black hair further, the young man wishing he had cut it if he knew he'd be traveling in such a downpour. The cloth and leather clothes at least kept him warm, even though the layered material was becoming more soaked over his lanky form.

Lord Tytos Blackwood, Hadrian's father and ruler of Raventree Hall, had organized the group after reports came in of abandoned villages being discovered. Most were small and quite isolated, nothing too out of place considering how vast the Riverlands were. At first it seemed just a community or two had simply left, yet soon half a dozen was discovered recently. Tytos had advised his son's group to check High Heart because of the strange sightings on that hill and being the center of all the abandoned villages.

He'd shrug his bow back onto his shoulder and shaking his back to empty the water collecting into the quiver on his back, though he doubted his arrows fly straight in such severe weather. Everyone struggled to keep their lanterns dried, not wanting to stumble in the woods and mud in complete darkness. He'd glance at his other companions, hardy men from Raventree Hall who had volunteer for this mission with Ser Cordin at the lead. He was one of Tytro's best knights and was a dutiful teacher to the young Hadrian.

Hadrian quickening his pace to catch up, he'd speak up to Cordin. "We need to stop! Its already dark and this rain isn't dying down any time soon!"

The knight glanced over at the young man, giving a small frown. "We're nearly to the hill though! If there is trouble lurking about, I'd rather not wait for morning for it to slip away or surprise us."

The young man grumbled, biting back words of argument for now. It was risky to travel in these conditions, considering the men could easily get sick from the rain and chilly air. After a moment he kept the urge to speak up again, yet stopped when he heard something odd in the air. "Everyone stop!"

The sudden order made the other men come to a halt, though Cordin gave an odd look towards him. "What's the matter?"

"Don't you hear that?"

Everyone was silent, trying to listen through the pattering rainfall.

"If you mean the rain…yes I hear plenty of that."

"No, it was a voice giggling out! Like a woman's yet…wrong."

"Just hearing things lad." Yet as soon as the knight said that, there was a sudden laughter about them, an eerily sound. Cordin tensed, one hand going for his long sword while the other men gripped their own weapons nervously. "Then again…maybe not."

"Oh? Is the knight scared of little us?" One warped womanly voice chuckled out, echoing among the trees.

"The storm has them quaking in fear already, considering how they shake in their boots." Another voice cackled.

"Mhh…the young one though. So good and innocent. I'd make him quite the man yes…" Another slyly laughed.

Cordin was on guard, glancing at his men who were glancing about nervously with their weapons out. Hadrian fumbled with his bow, unnerved by the unseen voice speaking about him. "Form up! Get into a defensive circle!" Everyone obeyed the knight's command, trusting his skill and leadership. Hadrian was beside Cordin as the knight raised up his sword and shield, sharp eyes glancing about.

"What in the Hells is going on…" The young man muttered.

"I don't know…and that is what worries me." Cordin whispered back.

"You should be worried."

Suddenly the men behind them screamed out in terror. "Gods the ground! Its moves!" Roots and rotting plant life ripped up from the earth, grasping out at their legs and coiling upward. Those who didn't struggle free quickly gave pained cries as the tendrils coiled up their legs then around their chests and necks before being snapped by twigs.

Before anyone could react, there was a sudden shadowy figure that lunged out from the woods. The darkness made it hard for Hadrian to see, yet at a glance it seemed like an old woman though mutilated and sickly in appearance. The man closest to her yelled out in shock before her hand shoved right into his stomach, followed the slick sound of his guts being ripped out of him.

"Kill it! Kill it!"

The men scrambled to attack the crone who laughed out, blades and clubs swinging out at her. Despite her hunched stance, she moved inhumanly fast to avoid any blow, though let a sword strike at her only for it to snap like it was a twig.

"So rude to strike a woman!" The creature jested before she disappeared in a raging flock of black birds, the swarm passing through three men who howled as their faces were pecked and clawed at viciously.

Hadrian stood there in pure shock, trembling as he watched the bloody carnage before him. He had seen his share of violence and injuries, yet this was unlike anything he had seen. Suddenly there was a heavy stomp from the woods, making him turn about and draw his bow to fire blindly into the dense trees. However, the stomping continues as a large grotesque form came into view. It looked like a woman, yet fat and warty with a sagging heavy bust that it's simple clothes barely covered. Just the sight of it made the young man gag as he nearly puked at the grotesque sight. His arrow stuck out at it's face, having pierced the wicker basket the creature wore as a mask.

"That was rude of you my dear." The creature murmured, the same one that had slyly spoke of him moments ago. She'd grasp the arrow and pull it out before tossing it aside. "Yet I'm a forgiving woman. Come half-lord…let me embrace you!"

The creature moved closer, large meaty arms wide to grab at the petrified Hadrian who tried to back away. "Oh, gods please no!"

"Back you monster!" Despite the creature's foul appearance and the chaos around him, Cordin remained steadfast as he'd bash his shield at the creature. While she seemed surprised at the attack, her fatty form absorbed the blow and all it did was stall her for a moment. "You'll have to kill me before you lay a foul finger on him!"

"So noble of you! If you wish my love first…then I'll gladly give it to you!" The crone giggled as she'd swing a club like hand at the knight. Even with his strong stance, the man was forced back as his shield was crushed in one blow. Despite the creature's fleshy look, it's skin was like stone as the man stared at the warped metal.

"RUN HADRIAN! GET BACK TO THE HALL! WARN THEM!" He'd lash his sword at the giant of a woman, yet she'd casually catch his blade with one hand before yanking it away with ease. Even unarmed Cordin fought, an armored fist punching out at the creature's flabby stomach, yet he'd cry out as he broke his hand against the monster. "RUN!" He yelled out through the pain.

The young man backed away more, stammering to find words as the knight was grabbed by the creature who giggled out in glee. He'd watch Cordin struggle and curse, trying to pry free before getting smothered by disgusting flesh. The creature didn't stop as her arms began to tighten around him, metal plate buckling under her inhuman strength, drawing horrid cries as the knight's spine was being crushed.

At that point Hadrian ran, dropping his bow and rushing out into the dark woods as quickly as his feet would allow him. The horrible sounds of the slaughter faded behind him, yet the Crones laughter followed. His hands pressed at his ears to try and shut them out, trying to focus on escaping from them. He'd just kept running even as his lungs heaved for air and legs stumbled across the muddy ground, yet he pressed on despite the gawking exhaustion. He lost all sense of direction, going only on the base instinct of survival and Cordin's last desperate words.

…

"Should we chase the boy?" Weavess muttered as the group glanced out into the woods, the ground littered with the slain men…or what bits remained.

"Just one boy. You think anyone will believe him about what he saw?" Brewess answered back casually, heavy arms still cradling the crushed knight as if he was a toy. "Besides it be a waste to kill such a fine lad so early in youth!"

"Bah! Has your desire made you soft for the human?" Weavess argued.

Whispess hissed out to interrupt their bickering. "Enough! The boy isn't worth chasing. Let the woods claim him in his panic. For now, we have flesh and blood to work with." She'd lip up a dead man's arm, lifting his limp body from the ground. "We have much work ahead of us sisters. From now on we take the title as the Oracles of High Heart. The foolish humans will beg for our wisdom and power…long before realizing their folly!"

The trio laughed and cackled into the night, their inhuman voices echoing far and wide. To many their voices would blend into the storm overhead, yet all who heard it would feel terrible dread creep through them.

…

The Riverlands - Near the King's Road at the Green Fork

"Do you hear something…strange out there?" Ogatto muttered, the Dothraki pausing from cleaning his Arakh, his one dull white eye glancing up at the alchemist across from him. The two had made camp earlier that night, having found a small yet suitable cave to settle in, just before the storm had suddenly arrived.

For a moment, the dark-skinned warrior would examine his exotic weapon in the light of the campfire. For one it was made of finer steel, showing it was custom foraged, which explained the intricate designs on the blade's sickle depicting rearing horse on one side and script of words in Dothraki on the other. The weapon also was longer in size to be nearly the length of a long sword and added more reach to the curved blade. The fine leather grip was bigger too, making it easier to hold with both ends. However instead of a simple pommel, there was a blunted spike at the end which extended out by half a foot.

"Just the wind." Zarin muttered, keeping his attention set on the portable alchemy kit as he worked on some simple concoctions for his work. "Not scared of a little thunder, are you?"

"Heh…if you could have seen the storms that ravish the Dothraki Sea and Red Wastes. Rain is rare in those parts, yet when it came it brought down quite the fury." He'd pause a more thunder rumbled in the distance. "But this storm isn't right…feels unnatural…" One hand moved to brush his long black hair back nervously. He lacked a braid normally worn by his people, a sign of some dishonor happening to him for having it removed.

"That is just your superstition speaking." The alchemist dismissed with a wave of one hand.

The Dothraki shrugged as he'd polish the blade of his weapon a bit more. "You still haven't told me about what you have planned for us in the Riverlands." He'd ask. "I have noticed how you've been writing up letters and dropping them off at very town and inn we've passed by to messengers. Trying to contact the others?"

Zarin gave a short nod as he'd carefully stir around a small vial of deep green fluid. "Indeed. They should all be within the region. Will be only a matter of time before they get one of my messages or news from the capital will reach them. They'll know where to go."

"Do you think one of the other Grims did it, killed Robert for us?"

"Doubtful. Not enough time to contact one of them. I also doubt the Shadow or Snake were in King's Landing at the time." He'd cap the vial he had stirred before shaking it, the mixture during a deep red now.

"So, who do you think did it? I doubt it was Lord Stark or the Witcher as the rumors said."

"No. It was someone in court…maybe Cersei did it or someone else. Plenty of individuals have something to gain from the fat bastard's death." Setting the vial aside, he'd sigh as he'd pull his alchemist cap back to scratch his short black hair. "Overall though this is the right time for us. North and the South will war, giving us ample space to follow up on…well…MY plans."

"You are called the Grim of Schemes after all, I'd be surprised if you didn't have something set up." Ogatto chuckled out. "One of your plans wouldn't involve our newest member?"

"You'll know once we get to the meeting place." Zarin simply remarked before he'd pull the stopper off his new potion before drinking it down. The old man shivered and gave a small grunt as the mixture seemed to taste foul, yet after a moment his body relaxed. "Yes…the formula seems good by now." He'd flex one of his hands and nod.

"You rely on your elixirs too much friend."

"When you get to my age, you'll understand." The alchemist chuckled as he'd get up from where he sat and stand before the fire. His step seemed stronger and he stood more straight instead of his usual hunch posture. His blue eyes stared into the flames, a smug grin crossing his face. "This is the right time. It's time we break the cycle of these so-called Lords and Kings, bring a new change to the Seven Kingdoms."

"That is if that Witcher doesn't complicate things again." The Dothraki warned.

The older man shrugged. "A fair point. He is an…unexpected variable, yet one that can further my life's work." He'd pause as he'd pace about the campfire. "He will have his uses for what is to come. Beyond that we will prepare…learn all of his strengths and weakness before dealing with him. There will be no mistakes like before." He'd chuckle as he felt such a thrill at the thought, eager to see the mutant at his mercy. "Then we, the Grims, will be truly unstoppable!"

…

The North - Winterfell

Robb stared down at the letters laid out on top of the desk, the young man's brow narrowed as he compared them both. He was in his father's office, having just received shocking news from raven from the capital.

"It's not true…" He muttered, glancing up at Ludwin who stood by attentively. The old Maester had a grim look on his face, knowing well the conflicting thoughts the eldest son of Eddard felt.

"I don't believe as well." The old man remarked back. "Lord Eddard murdering the King…his friend." He'd shake his head.

"His trial was today if the letter is true." Robb paused for a long moment. "We won't know for a week at least."

"He will most likely be stripped of his titles and exiled to The Wall."

"'Most likely'. There is still a chance of otherwise." The young man calmly pointed out. "Even so the letter claims my sisters are under the Lannister's protection…but there is one detail missing."

Ludwin had a curious look as Robb offered the letter to him, the old man rereading it quickly. "There is no mention of the Witcher. He isn't stated to be dead or captured."

"Indeed. Either they overlooked that detail or…"

"He's still active." The Maester thought for a moment. "There is much uncertainty right now. Information is limited by others and distance. We have to be careful."

"Yet I can't be silent. The other Lords of the North will get this news, they will demand action."

"Whatever the case…you are the Warden of the North now no matter what happens to your father."

Robb bowed his head low, silent in thought. Right now, he wished he had others to advise him. "Send ravens out to all of the Lords of the North. Tell them to come to Winterfell for council within a week's time. By then we will get word of my father's fate…and if the outcome is the worse feared…" He'd pause as he'd clench his fists tightly. "…then we march for war."

Ludwin nodded, a solemn look on his face as he'd gather up paper, ink and quill to begin writing out the many messages. The old man wished Robb didn't have to make such a difficult choice. He had seen too much conflict in his long life and wished the young Stark wouldn't have to see the horrors of war.

…

The North – The Wall – Castle Black

Jon read over the letter Geralt had sent once more, having received it days before the news of his father's arrest had arrived at the isolated fortress. Already there was talk going on throughout the fort, with Allister Thorne being the first to taunt him of being the son of a traitor. It took much effort to stop himself from lashing out, yet he stuck to Geralt's advise.

The Witcher had followed his promise to get aid for Castle Black as supplies for new weapons, building materials, food and new light siege weaponry were being delivered. Even a few Northern builders and soldiers had come to help with duties around the fort. From what the men discussed, between Robert's order and the growing Wildling sighting, the Northern Lords had enough reason to send such aid. However, with the new of Eddard being arrested, there was talk that most of these men would leave for the possibility of conflict in the South.

Indeed, the last few months had been busy for him. He had built up a good following with most of the recruits as he took an active role in training, having been given a role as assistant instructor during sparring lessons. Thorne loathed it, yet the Lord Commander didn't deny the results that were showing among the newcomers.

After Jon and the other recruits had been inducted as members of the Night's Watch, they had discovered bodies of Uncle Benjin's ranger party who had left months back. They had taken the corpses back, something which had worried Jon to no end after what happened with the last few bodies brought in. Secretly he and his closest friends kept an eye on the medical room on their free time, until one night the corpses had suddenly disappeared. It had been a close call in protecting Mormont from one of the creatures, yet now the Lord Commander couldn't deny something unnatural was afoot.

For a moment, Jon moved one hand down to the sword at his hip, Longclaw with a new wolf headed pommel to it. When Mormont had gifted the Valyrian blade to him, he felt conflicted yet understood why he was given the sword. It was like what Geralt had said, Mormont saw his potential and gratitude for his actions against the second Wight attack.

Yet now the group was preparing for an expedition beyond the wall within a few weeks to find clues about his uncle and the growing movements of the Wildlings. However, Jon felt there was more to Mormont's plans, perhaps seeking clues on whatever was causing the dead to rise again as well.

"White Walkers…can a myth truly be doing this?"

Yet muttering the man made the wind pick up, making him shiver even with his thick cloak and clothes on. He'd glance out into the blackness of harsh lands beyond The Wall. Slowly he moved closer to the edge of grand structure, eyes narrowing as he tried to see what was out in the vast darkness.

"Just the darkness staring back at me." He sighed, relaxing as he'd move away after a moment.

"Jon! Jon!"

Snow turned to look down the icy passage to see Sam hurrying over to him. His larger friend had lost a bit of weight because of the base food and constant work around the castle, yet he was still quite chubby much to Jon's surprise.

"You alright? I mean…I understand you must feel bad about your father…yet that doesn't mean you have to stand off on your own."

Jon folded Geralt's letter into one of his pockets before giving a small smile back to his friend. "Just have a lot of my mind. So much has happened in these last few months, it's a bit hard to take in."

Sam nodded as he'd move closer to stand beside him. "I get that. Between your uncle disappearing and the…claims against your father…be hard not to feel worried for them."

"Aye." Jon paused in thought. "Part of me wants to leave. Go back to Winterfell and help my brother with the coming crisis."

"Yet you trust in everyone else to face those challenges?"

The insightful remark had Jon glance over and nod. "Geralt I know will do everything he can for my father and sisters while Robb will step up to be a strong leader in Winterfell. For me, I'm best suited here for whatever we face beyond The Wall.'

There was a long moment of silence as both stared out into the dark lands in the distance.

"I'm scared you know, having to go out there."

"Why is that? You have your brothers to watch over you and you've gotten a bit handier with a sword."

"Heh…personally I prefer the crossbow." Sam chuckled. "Its just the fact we'll be walking out into the unknown. Of course, the Wildlings are fearsome but…after seeing one of wights and…the growing storms…there is just something wrong out there. Unnatural."

"Its our job to face the unknown isn't it?" Jon answered back. "Wildlings…the walking dead…have to keep it all back for the good of the Kingdoms."

"I know that but…can we?"

The question was a haunting one, something that made Jon silent as he'd grip the pommel of Longclaw. In truth he had no answers and he doubt anyone else in the world did either.

…

Essos – The Red Wastes

Ser Jorah squinted at the high sun above him before staring out at the vast wasteland before him. Even with the sun so bright, his trained eyes could see the red streak in the sky, the Red Comet which had appeared the night before. The group had been following it ever since dawn, going east through the Red Wastes on the order of their new Khalessi. The disgraced knight knew just how dangerous this wasteland was, since even the Golden Company made sure they were well supplied for marching across it. It take a miracle to cross the region without major losses, considering the group had few horses and low supplies.

Then again, a miracle had happened last night. He'd glance back to the rest of the group, the few khalasar and three young warriors of Khal Drogo who were now Bloodriders to their new queen. Among the crowd of wanderers was a young beautiful girl, Daenerys Targaryen, the last of the great House of the Targaryens.

Among the copper skinned Dothraki she stood clearly out. With her pale skin, long silver-gold hair and beautiful violet eyes, she looked exactly as the tales described the Valyrian people. She was dressed in the same simple garb her handmaidens wore, plain brown cloth and leather which showed off her slender figure. However, around her form were scaly shapes that at a glance seemed to be serpents, yet up close revealed they were in fact small winged reptiles...dragons. The young Khaleesi held one of the new born in her arms while one had curled around her waist almost like a belt and the last sat on top of her shoulder.

Jorah still couldn't believe the creatures were real, though last night overall felt like something out of a legend. One of the greatest Khal's had died in disgrace and Daenerys had lost her only child who had been destined for greatness in his life. Whether it had been the cruel hand of fate or the dark powers of that shaman, the young woman had lost everyone dear to her. The funeral that happened last night was meant to be the end of her. It pained Jorah to have seen her walk so calmly into the burning pyre of her husband, all while the witch howled her last as she burned. Yet in the morning, he was shocked to see she had been untouched by the flames and had her three dragons curled around her.

"Times are changing…" He muttered to himself before he heard hooves behind him as the new Bloodriders approached him.

"Any idea where we are Jorah?" One of the young men questioned in Dothraki. "We need to find water soon, considering our supply is low to begin with."

"I know…" He muttered back. "If we had a landmark like a ruined city or natural structure we could get a better idea of our location. Though this part of the Red Wastes is completely barren and vast. I doubt we'll find many resources in these parts."

One of the Bloodriders nodded. "At the least we are far away from the other Khal's territory. I'm beginning to understand why the Khalessi wishes us to follow the Red Comet."

"Safe path or not, we'll slowly perish without water." The last Rider muttered.

"Heh…perhaps it will fall from the sky." Jorah chuckled, trying to give some humor to the grim discussion though the Dothraki didn't show any amusement with the remark.

Suddenly though there was a resounding bang much like a lightening bolt, followed by a short flash of light from above. The three horses of the Bloodriders panicked for a moment before the Riders calmed the beasts, while the group behind them screamed out in terror. Jorah cursed out in surprise as he quickly tried to find the source of the boom, thinking it was a distant storm beyond one of the surrounding mountain ranges.

"There! By the spirits what…the sky it's splitting?!" One of the Bloodriders yelled, pointing up to the sky.

Indeed, the air seemed to warp and tremble before ripping apart for a white void to be revealed. Another echoing boom and flash followed, making everyone shield their eyes from the intense light. Then suddenly there was an intense chill…a cold that Jorah hadn't felt in a long time.

An icy gush of wind and the caress of snow touched his wrinkled face, the feeling making him gasp in surprise. When he opened his eyes, he'd see before him a large patch of snow, frosted rocks and uprooted pine trees. It was as if someone had scooped up a piece of the wooded North and dropped it before them. One hand was at his sword as he'd look about the cold surroundings, giving a sigh as the lingering cool air relaxed his warm body. The Bloodriders kept back, confused and nervous over what they saw before them. One of the young Riders tasted some of the snow off one of his hands before lapping it up as it melted into water.

"What is this?" The Rider muttered in amazement.

"Snow…something that shouldn't be here." Jorah calmly stated. "Go the others and tell them to gather every waterskin and container they have to collect the snow. This is going to quickly melt, so we can't let such a boon slip by!"

The Riders nodded as they'd hurry back to the party who were moving slowly forward, cautious over what they had just witnessed. Daenerys was stepping forward though, seeming more curious then fearful like her subjects.

Jorah moved further into the snow-covered area, glancing over at the fallen trees nearby. Nearing the end of one, he'd crouch down to see that the tree hadn't been uprooted by cut away smoothly at the base. "No weapon could do this…" He muttered before hearing something, a low pained groan nearby. Standing up, he'd look about the icy rocks and other toppled trees until he heard the groan again.

Soon he'd see a figure laying on the snowy ground, a woman dressed in furs and leathers, yet it wasn't of any design he knew from the North. What was most striking about her though was her appearance…it almost was a splitting image of Daenerys, having the same pale skin and silvery white hair. There were differences though, such as the fact she was older, had a more fit toned figure, along with having a healed scar that started at the left side of her head and arched along the cheek just below her eye. There were more recent injuries though, her winter clothes being ripped by what he recognized as blade cuts. In her right hand she held a beautiful blade, a finely crafted weapon that seemed to rival a Valyrian blade.

As he'd move closer and crouch down, the girl muttered something before turning her head to look at him. Her eyes opened weakly, revealing her gaze to be an emerald-green color. With her head turned he'd see an odd hand print at her throat, yet it was created by light frostbite across her skin. In fact, the minor cuts she had along her body had hints of frostbite as well, a strange detail to her injuries.

"Who…who are you?" She muttered, exhaustion hinting her voice. Her accent was unfamiliar, sounding nothing from Westeros or Essos. "Where am I…I…the Frost! I have to-" Sudden energy showed in her eyes as she'd struggle to get up, yet cry out as she'd grasp at her right side.

"Be still. You're more injured then you look." Jorah quickly remarked as one hand pressed at her right shoulder. "My name is Jorah Mormont. I'm not sure what happened to you, but you appeared in a flash of light and a swirl of snow."

"Light…snow?" The woman muttered, eyes closing as she'd try to remember. "That thing…it grabbed me…felt it draining my life and power away…I panicked…jumped to escape it."

Everything she was muttering seemed disorganized and confused since nothing made sense to the knight. "Relax. Whatever attacked you isn't here." He'd get a piece of cloth out to wipe the melting snow off her brow. "What is your name?"

"I'm…Ciri…just Ciri…" The woman answered back before turning her head to see someone approaching. She'd see Daenerys stand over her before shifting down to kneel, the sight of the girl drawing a surprised look from Ciri. "You…you look like…me?" She muttered in confusion.

"I was about to say the same thing." Dany's voice was soft towards Ciri, before the one dragon in her arms stirred, giving a small screech as it eyed the ashen haired woman.

"Is that a…dragon?" Ciri questioned, yet she'd groan again in pain as she'd start to lose focus. "Who are you?"

"My name Daenerys Targaryen. Titles can be shared another time." One hand moved to touch Ciri's scarred cheek, the touch oddly relaxing to the young woman. "Rest Ciri…by my honor as Khalessi you will be safe under my care."

Ciri struggled to speak, wanting to argue and explain why she couldn't sleep now. Her mind was still fresh of her battle with that horned creature and the last moments she had shared with Geralt a world away. Yet exhaustion took hold, her eyes closing with the last sight being of the kind face of Daenerys and the baby dragon in her arms.

…

Notice: Has been quite a long time coming! Ciri has returned and now a new age of conflict begins! Season 2 will offer plenty of twists and turns. New enemies now lurk in the shadows, shocking alliances will be made and the world of Westeros will never be the same. There will be much work ahead, yet I will push the limit to offering speedy chapter releases and quality writing.

I have one special piece of news to share though. I've started a page, for those wishing to offer more support. THIS WILL NOT CHANGE THE RELEASE TIME OR QUALITY OF MY WRITING. Supporting is simply a form of donation which I will deeply value, even if it is simply one dollar. I do work full time after all and live at home still, so every bit of support means much for me. My will be active soon, so check out for Drake Cross on the website or follow the link on my blog.

Again, I deeply thank all my readers. See you all with season two comes around, though keep an eye out for another series I'll be releasing soon. My only hint is that it's time for a clash of hunters to happen…