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Chapter 2

Upon returning to consciousness, her first inane thought was about whether or not she had finished her homework.

Wait, had she even gone home last night? She couldn't remember….

With a soft sigh, she turned her head against the pillow and took a deep breath, rubbing her nose against the fabric. It smelled good, but… different. She breathed again, enjoying the spicy odor of cologne and something more intangible, something definitely masculine.

Then she stretched, and her heart slammed against her chest – she was in a bed. Not on the couch. What the hell?

It all came back to her with a jarring burst of pain to her temple. She groaned, bringing her hand to her head; every time she tried to move, her brain let out a throbbing complaint. Her hand hovered above the wound before dropping back to her side – best not to touch it. Then she frowned; if she wasn't dead, and she wasn't in the woods, where the fuck was she?

She opened her eyes and squinted against the light. It took her a moment before she could fully focus her vision, then she looked over, seeing a small window with heavy, ugly brown drapes pulled across, though the light still bothered her eyes. The walls had the slightly yellow tint of old paint and a worn-down dresser stood across from her on the opposite wall. Other than that, the bedroom was bare.

With a groan, she sat up slowly, careful not to move her head too much. Sitting upright was more difficult than she had anticipated – the room kept wanting to move to the left slightly, but she forced herself to focus. She twitched her toes. Good, everything in working order.

Swinging her feet out of bed, she carefully stood up, enjoying the feeling of the rough tan carpet. She looked around again; the room was small from this angle, though bigger than her father's room, and notably bigger than just about all the rooms in her cabin. She looked down at herself, staring mutely, and it took a moment to register that she was naked.

Her breath caught. Alright, she definitely hadn't undressed herself, which left a few more questions unanswered.

She looked around the room again, this time slower, but she definitely didn't see any closet, and her clothes were nowhere to be found. Great. Now what? Very well couldn't go and explore the house in this state, and staying put was out of the question. If those creeps had kidnapped her after all, she wasn't going to wait around for them to discover that she was awake. Too bad they didn't realize her father didn't give a shit about her.

She glanced around the room one last time and made do with the only piece of fabric available. Yanking the sheet off the bed, she wrapped herself up in it firmly and headed for the door. Worse come to worse, she could drop it and run, and a naked woman running down the road was bound to attract some form of help.

The hallway was just as ugly as the room she had woken up in. Hairy tan carpet and in-need-of-paint walls. She walked slowly and carefully, listening, checking out the doors that she passed. A bathroom on her left. A closet on her right, though she didn't stop to see what it held. Then she heard the suspicious sounds of clinking plates and a sink running. The sound of a crackly, static voice reached her ears, but it was the kind one heard from a fuzzy radio, not any one speaking.

She crept forward, moving closer towards the sounds until the hallway opened up into a large living room, full of comfortable-looking leather couches and a giant TV. An unused fireplace was against one wall surrounded by rustic brick, and a deceptively gentle painting of a forest hung above it. The noise, however, was coming from a different direction; it was still out of sight, and just around the corner, where now she could hear the clear sounds of dishes being moved around and the intense odor of sizzling bacon. Her mouth began to water and she was reminded of the fact that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. Her stomach let out a low rumble.

The sink turned off and the radio was now clearly audible. Someone was listening to the news. Remembering the commotion from last night, she wondered if any reports had been sent in that she was missing. She continued forward until she was inches away from the room and angled herself shallowly so she could peek around the corner. She twisted her head slightly to get a better view and abruptly her breath caught. There was no need to hide anymore. With a slight hesitation, she moved into the open, staring into the kitchen with wide eyes.

He was looking back at her, casually leaning against the sideboard and drying a plate with a towel. The muscles of his arms bulged clearly from the activity, his loose white t-shirt doing nothing to hide them. His position gave her the feeling that he had known she was standing there for a while and wasn't surprised by her entrance.

She swallowed. Hard.

He continued drying the plate, then set it down and casually started on the next one, continuing to look at her as the radio droned on. She only caught bits of what the voice was saying – "…five bodies found in the woods… animal attack… nearby cabin abandoned, currently searching for Maddy Baker, a student at our own Black River High… her body not found among the others, though a search is being done of the mountains…."

She licked her lips, her stomach squirming with nervousness. It had been almost a year since their last encounter in the woods, when she had been seventeen and attempting to run away again, though she had known she was running to nowhere. He hadn't said anything to her then, as he had rarely spoken on their meetings – just taken her hand, as he always did, and led her back down the mountain. She wondered if he knew the situation she was in. She wondered if he even cared.

Since it was obvious he was not going to speak, she decided to finally break the awkward silence. "Uh… thank you," she said quietly, feeling that it was appropriate. He had saved her life after all… right? Or had it been that wolf? There had been an animal of some kind… she couldn't really remember very well, her head hurt whenever she tried to think back that far. She had been so woozy and incoherent that it was hard to remember anything after the gun had hit her temple. Maybe he had killed the wolf? Or maybe he had just found her, and the animal had left her alone miraculously.

A hint of a smile formed on his mouth, just the curve of the corner of his lips, then he turned away towards the stove to where a fat slab of bacon was cooking. Her stomach squirmed again; she was so nervous she felt like it was her first day of school. This was the first time she had gotten a real good look at him up close and in full daylight, and she studied his back, his broad shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist, obviously muscular through his shirt. He had long legs – he had to be at least six feet tall, far more than her modest 5'4". He wore dark blue jeans and black work boots underneath them, and there were stains on his shirt that looked something like car grease. She wondered if he worked at a garage, which would make sense why she had never seen him around, since she didn't own a car.

His hair was long and black, pulled back into a short pony tail at the back of his head. She knew because she had seen him enough in the hardware store that he usually wore it this way during the day, but all the times she had seen him at night, his hair had been loose and wild, flowing in slight waves.

He had two plates out. His back was still turned, but he was putting food on both of them. She watched his arms work – definitely muscular, healthy tan, and with two tattoos peeking out of his sleeves on both sides. She couldn't tell what they were at this angle.

He finished with the stove and turned it off, depositing an empty pan in the sink, then set a plate on the opposite side of the counter where a few bar stools were set up.

"Eat," he said, then took a fork and started in on his own plate. After a moment he glanced at her, his green eyes even more intense in the sunlight. One dark, elegantly slanted eyebrow rose.

Maddy felt like her legs might give out. She stumbled forward, telling herself not to be stupid and trip or burp or do anything else embarrassing, and swept over to the stool across from him. It was only then that she remembered her choice in clothing. Her cheeks heated, but she didn't know what else to do, so she sat down on the chair, picked up her fork, and took a taste of the bacon. It melted in her mouth. After a short pause, she started scarfing it down.

She wasn't sure if he actually watched her eat or not, because she didn't catch him looking at her after that until they had both finished, then he wordlessly took her plate and set it in the sink. Turned the water on. She watched, tense, waiting for him to do something, or say something that would explain why she was in his house and wrapped in his bed sheets.

He took out a sponge. Started washing.

Well, at least he's clean, she thought, and took the time to admire his biceps some more, since he was definitely an amazing specimen of a man. Because of the position of the sink, this time they were facing each other as he washed the dishes, and she studied his face – it was all angles and dramatic planes, with high curving cheekbones and a straight nose. His lips were firm and sensual, with a strong chin and sharp jaw line barely covered by the ghost of stubble. His lashes were long and dark. She felt her stomach squirming again and tried not to stare, though now her gaze moved to his masculine neck and broad shoulders. Wow, she had to get a hold of herself. Maybe he was a childhood crush, but he was an adult, and she was a baby in comparison. Probably he still saw her as the little eleven-year-old of seven years ago.

Finally he finished with the dishes and reached over to turn off the radio. He looked at her then, leaning forward against the sideboard, his eyes intense.

"So what do you remember from last night?" he finally asked, his voice deep and rough.

It sent shivers down her spine. She had to force her brain to think. It seemed like an odd question to ask. "There were men," she finally said. "Four of them, I think. They came to my house, and I tried to run… didn't get very far though," she said with a half-smile, attempting some humor. He didn't respond. "Uhm… they were eaten? Or something? They uh… they hit me I guess… I don't really remember much after that."

He nodded, not commenting. She bit her lip again. Great, why couldn't she say something smart or impressive? He just kept staring at her like that, and she couldn't think with those jade-green eyes focused on her so intently.

"Alright," he finally said. But he kept looking at her, silently, as though he expected her to say something else.

She shifted a little and was once against reminded of her almost-naked state. She couldn't get the smell of him out of her head; it was all over the blanket and now that she was looking at him face to face, it was making it even harder to think. "Um, I think I should get dressed," she mumbled.

"Your clothes are drying," he said. "But I'll loan you something…" his eyes briefly flickered over her, and a hint of humor crept into them. "My clothes might be a bit big though."

She smiled shyly. Wow, awkward.

He motioned for her to follow him and started from the kitchen and into the hallway. He opened one of the many doors she hadn't inspected and stepped into a narrow laundry room where the dryer was obviously running. A pile of clean clothes were sitting in a basket, and after a moment he selected a pair of gray sweatpants and a floppy looking sweater. He handed them to her.

"I believe you know where the bathroom is," he said, and the hint of a smile around his mouth assured her that he had somehow been aware of her every move since she had woken up. She couldn't explain how, but it was obvious by his actions. With another awkward smile, she headed towards the bathroom she had seen earlier, and felt his eyes gazing after her, licking against her back like a flame.

She walked a little quicker, relieved when she finally closed the bathroom door behind her and put her back against it. She didn't know how she was going to survive in this house much longer – it was more nerve wracking than even her own home.

He could smell her. It was driving him insane.

She was younger than he had expected, but he had known almost from their first meeting that this was the girl he had been waiting for. His future female. His mate.

He had waited for her to grow up, because what else could he do? And he hadn't let himself get too close, because that might scare her away, or alert the paranoid human population that he might be a stalker or some equally perverted man. The truth was the opposite, however – wolves like him mated for life, and until they found their lifemates, any sort of sexual pleasure was purely a one-night ordeal. But with her, it had been different from the beginning. Her smell drove him insane, the sweetness of her breath and the flowery scent of her hair, all the way to the deeper, spicier smells that were only apparent to him. He had sensed her smell change when she had first seen him in the kitchen. He knew what the sight of him did to her. And he liked it.

But how to bring her closer? He had many secrets, most of which would mean her death if they got loose. Werewolves had been thought of as mythological for such a long time that they were all but a forgotten legacy; all stories held some truth, however, and he was a prime example of that. That's why he always found her in the woods, when she was alone and terrified of whatever horrors her home presented her. He could smell her fear from the other side of the mountain if the wind was the right direction. He always went out at night, either changing into his wolf-form, or just running through the forest, feeling the night breeze against his skin and the murmuring of the woods. It was the place he belonged; his natural home. He knew it was fortunate that last night he had traveled closer than usual to her cabin, and had been able to help her. If he had been only a few minutes later, he hated to think of what he might have found.

He could hear her now in the bathroom. She was taking a shower. He had liked seeing her wrapped up in his bed sheets, and knowing that it was the only thing separating him from her bare skin drove him insane. He had been short and withdrawn from her, only because he had feared what he would do if he let himself relax. Probably bend her back over the counter top, push the bacon out of the way, and take her virginity before she knew how to refuse him.

The thought made his cock harden beneath his belt, and he gritted his teeth – or rather, fangs. Soon, he would have to tell her the truth, because living without his mate would be impossible. Somehow, he would have to mark her, claim her as his.

He just had to figure out how.

Maddy was snooping through his bathroom.

Deodorant, tissue boxes, band-aids, doggy shampoo (she'd have to ask him about that one, she didn't remember seeing any dogs), hair brush, tooth brush, tooth paste, there had to be something interesting in here! She rummaged through the cupboard under the sink and then behind the bathroom mirror, and all she found were normal everyday things. But something about him was so un-normal, so beyond average, that she kept expecting to stumble across something totally out of the ordinary. How could he really just be an average guy, working at some car garage and living in a shitty one-bedroom house? How had he found her in the forest all those times?

She didn't want to tell herself the truth. What she was really looking for were clues to the man he was. He had been her obsession all through high school, the only thing she looked forward to, the only comfort on those dark nights when she ran blindly through the forest. Sometimes she had left the house, just hoping he would find her – and he always did.

So who the hell was he? She was naked in his home, wrapped up in his bedsheets, and she didn't even know his name. There was something very… naughty about that.

Her quick shower was finished and she pulled the shirt cautiously over the bandage on her head. She had been careful not to get it wet, but she had needed to wash off; somehow she felt dirty after what had happened last night, with all the bastards touching her. She needed to clean her skin. She drew up the pants too, having to pull the draw-string extra tight, and even then they threatened to fall off. They completely swamped her feet, so she rolled them up a few times. The bulky sweater was wonderfully warm and left her feeling protected; maybe he had intended that. In any other shirt without her bra on, she might have felt exposed.

Finally she gave up putting off the inevitable, and walked out of the bathroom. She would just have to confront him, ask for his name, and then demand just what the strange relationship was between them and why he had helped her so many times. She deserved answers, didn't she? She nodded to herself in the mirror. Yes, she did.

He was in the living room when she entered, slouched on a couch in front of the TV, the screen on but the sound on mute. Once again, watching the news. She wondered if he was waiting for something.

She sat down on the seat across from him, steadying her nerves. Now what to say?

Surprisingly, he beat her to it.

"You'll have to go to school later," he said, nodding to the TV. "Your picture is all over the local news, they think you were eaten by some animal. You should make an appearance so they know you're okay."

"What should I say?" she asked hesitantly. She lifted a hand to the bandage that covered her right temple, touching it lightly. Her stomach suddenly clenched again, realizing he had done that for her. No one had ever bothered to bandage her up before.

He glanced at her, obviously realizing there was more to her question than met the eye. "Tell them the truth – they attacked you in your house, you ran, you got lost."

"Right, and I got back to school…?"

"You're a dedicated student."

"I'm definitely not a dedicated student."

He cast her a sharp look, and for a moment she was embarrassed – what, was he mad at her for not studying now? She frowned. Well, at least they were talking.

"What? You try studying in my position, it ain't easy," she mumbled. Great, she shouldn't have said that. Then he might ask what she meant, and then she'd have to explain… and somehow she got the feeling that he'd know if she lied to him. He seemed to know her well already, and yet they had barely ever talked.

"How about I got lost, then found my way back to the town, then went to school because I didn't know what else to do?" she offered, deciding it was better to be productive than to argue with a near-stranger. He seemed satisfied with this, and pushed a large, tan hand through his dark hair.

"I'll drive you," he said.

Her stomach flopped again. How many times had she dreamed of driving around with him? As pathetic as it sounded, she used to fantasize about him picking her up from school, or walking her home, or any of the other romantic things she saw girls sharing with their boyfriends. Not that he was anything like her boyfriend. Or could be. He was how old again?

She would have asked, except at that moment he moved. He crossed the living room, a motion that reminded her very much of a prowl, and sat smoothly next to her. The small love seat was barely enough for them both, and she was shocked by his sudden nearness. Her breathing became short. She didn't know what to do – and she knew it showed all over her.

But he was ignoring her nervous reaction. Instead he reached forward and began inspecting her bandage, testing it and touching it gently.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, looking down at her clasped hands.

"You have beautiful eyes."

Her breath caught. She looked up at him but he didn't return her glance; he seemed completely focused on the wound on her head. His hands were so gentle, she could barely believe it was a six-foot man that was touching her. Her mouth went dry. Had he really said those words? No one had ever complimented her before – and she wasn't sure why he would now.

"We should change the bandage," he said, as though that brief moment had never happened. "Come with me."

And he took her hand, as he had done so many times, and lead her off the couch. She didn't know what to expect – her gut wouldn't settle and her breathing was short. She was a virgin, completely unused to these kinds of feelings, but suddenly she a strange warmth bloomed deep in her belly. She liked it – but it scared the hell out of her.

How could she trust this man? Perhaps he had saved her, but she knew nothing about him.

He led her back to his room. The sheets were messed up; her blood pressure tripled the moment she stepped through his doorway. His bedroom. His bed. She had slept right there, curled up on his pillows. Suddenly she wanted to do nothing more than rip her hand away and hide.

He just led her to the bed and let her hand drop. "Have a seat, I'll be right back," he murmured, and briefly their eyes met, but the look in his gaze made her breath catch all over again. Did that look mean something? It was all fiery and intense and… hot. No boy had ever looked at her like that before… and certainly no man.

Then he turned and left the bedroom, taking long, swift strides. She sat down on the bed with a flop, then winced as her head hurt. Should she leave? Should she run to the phone (wherever it was) and call the police?

But, damn her, she wanted to stay just a minute more in his company.

This is stupid. This man could be a dangerous psychopath, but I'm just sitting here in his bedroom. I need to get out of here. Her emotions were fighting with her common sense, but finally common sense won out. She escaped one threat last night, now she just had to get out of this house. No matter how disarming he acted, he was a complete stranger and she couldn't trust him. She couldn't allow herself to trust him….

Maddy stood up and headed to the window that was on the other side of the bed. She threw back the curtains and inspected the lock – it was the easy, sliding kind. She moved the window up until it was halfway open, then abruptly it got stuck, and she couldn't make it go up anymore. She bit her lip and struggled, but then gave up – ah well, it was half open, she could fit through.

Her heart pounding, she began to nudge her shoulder through the gap between the window and the windowsill. One leg fit through, and she slid a bit farther. The ground was low on the other side and her foot didn't reach it, but she could see the dirt patches of an unkempt garden beyond. Then beyond that was a large, overgrown yard and a wobbly fence, and then the familiar street she walked home on every day coming from work. So close to freedom!

She was just jamming her hip through the opening when abruptly she got stuck. She struggled, trying to shove her shoulder through a little farther, but her neck and head were in the way, and there was just no getting rid of those. She grunted in frustration – he would be back any second now, and she had to redo the whole thing, if she could just get back out from this tangled position….

Someone cleared their throat.

Shit.

"Do you need any help?" that deep, masculine voice said. Maddy flinched and looked up in dread, expecting anger, expecting a fist to come flying at her from nowhere… but there was nothing. Just her rescuer, standing in the doorway of the room, leaning against the door frame with a roll of gauze and what appeared to be cotton swabs. She swallowed hard, embarrassment flooding her, and forced herself to raise her eyes to meet his gaze.

His face was stoic, but there was a hint of humor in those green eyes that made her relax. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"Um… just needed a… breath of fresh air," she said lamely, her one foot dangling a foot above the ground. She struggled to get back in the window, but she couldn't budge. "Um… I'm a bit stuck."

"I can see that," he said.

She frowned, finally fed up with his close-mouthed attitude. "Alright, so help me, like you always do!" she growled.

Then he really did smile. His white teeth shone against his tan skin, and he dropped the first-aid package on the bed. He went to stand next to her by the window, but he didn't move immediately to touch her, just looked at her position. The smile faded slightly but remained present.

"Do you want in or out?" he asked, embarrassing her even further. She blushed and stared resolutely at the floor.

"In," she muttered.

"Mm-hm," he grunted, then carefully grabbed her by the shoulders and began to pull her towards him. She adjusted herself accordingly until he could reach around her and grab her leg near the top of her thigh, then he began to twist, slowly pulling her inside the room. She tried not to feel his hot hand through the material of the sweat pants. His fingers were against the inside of her thigh, so close to the part of her that was warming up considerably. She bit her lip. Somehow, her body was responding to him, reacting in ways that no virgin body should – she was sure of that. Her belly clenched again and she felt her crotch tingle, his hand pressing against her. His other arm wrapped around her chest, right beneath her breasts, and with an easy motion he lifted her clear of the window and set her on her feet.

He closed the window, but left it open just slightly, glancing at her. "For the air," he said, raising an eyebrow, and she couldn't tell if he was mocking her or what.

"Thanks," she mumbled again, still embarrassed.

"Be careful of your head," he said, suddenly frowning, and put his hand against the wound along her temple. She nodded and tried to push him away instinctively, but the movement caused a dizzy spell to suddenly hit her, and a second later her legs gave out. She found herself sitting hard onto the bed, unsure of what had happened.

He sat next to her, his hand still along her face, then he started working on her bandage. She closed her eyes and groaned, then opened them a crack because she wanted to watch him work. He really had an incredible body – this close she could feel the heat coming off of him, almost unnaturally warm. His smell was with her again; warm and musky, the same as the sheets she had wrapped herself in. His arm rose to get better leverage as he slowly pulled the bandage away, and she got a clear view of his strong biceps and the tattoo that wrapped around his upper arm. It was a wolf's head.

"The bleeding stopped," he told her, showing her the bandage he held in his hand. There was a surprising amount of blood on it, but it was old and dried, and she remembered reading somewhere that even shallow head wounds bled far more than regular ones. He took out some cotton and a bottle of alcohol and started gently swabbing the wound, and she winced, wondering what it looked like.

"Is it… big?" she asked quietly, watching his arms flex as he worked.

He paused, as though thinking of something, then said "It's a formidable wound, but I've seen worse."

She forced herself to stay still as the alcohol burned and stung, then he put the cotton away and started placing the gauze over the cut, securing it with medical tape. He was so close to her, she didn't want to move. His thighs rubbed against hers as he worked, rough through the material of his jeans, and his arms were practically framing her face. A few more inches, and they would be hugging. The thought made her heart flutter; yes, he had held her before, carrying her down the mountain, but somehow everything was more intimate now. They were looking at each other, talking, he was tending her wounds… and she didn't even know his name. She would have to fix that soon. At this rate, part of her hoped he would never finish.

But then he did finish, and his hands stilled – but he didn't move away. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her cheek. She turned slightly, meeting his eyes… they were bright green and intense, staring at her, and she couldn't read their expression. She didn't know what to expect, but a thousand scenarios raced through her mind, all of which ended in very good ways.

"You flinch a lot," he commented, though his voice was deep and husky, rougher than before. Her breath caught. She licked her lips nervously, but only then thought of how that must look.

"What's your name?" she asked, breathless, knowing it was stupid, but she was this close to him and it seemed like she wouldn't ever get a straight answer.

He smiled that slow, sexy smile, where the corner of his lips barely lifted. Then suddenly his head dipped forward, and she gasped, his lips very gently pressing against hers. No, not her lips – the corner of her mouth.

He pulled away, still smiling, and hovered with his face barely and inch away. She couldn't breathe, everything about him was overpowering her, stealing her senses and making her weak and trembly. She was hot between her legs, dripping and probably ruining his sweatpants.

"Gareth," he said softly, the name breathing against her lips a moment before he leaned towards her again, his mouth claiming hers a second time. His tongue brushed against her lips, and Maddy froze; she didn't know what to do, she had never been kissed before, and with a head wound and wearing some guy's clothing, she felt like she might just pass out from all the crazy things that were happening. But the kiss was brief, only ending when his teeth – which seemed a bit sharp, now that she thought about it – nipped the side of her mouth. She gasped again at the prick of pain, and felt blood suddenly prickle against her skin, a thin stream running down to her chin.

She pulled away, fear abruptly tightening her stomach and dismissing all the warm sensations she'd been experiencing. She wiped her mouth and looked at her hand. It was bleeding, but not a lot, just like any cut lip would… and he had sat back as well, and appeared to be gathering up his medical supplies as though nothing had happened.

He glanced at her. "I've been thinking of that for a while now," he said, that humor in his eyes again.

She didn't know what to think or what to say. She just stared at him. He had kissed her – twice – and she had never been kissed before. She had fantasized about this moment plenty of times, but somehow she had never thought it would happen like this. Somehow she felt… unsatisfied.

"I should really be going to school now," she said, and was surprised by the husky sound of her own voice.

He stood up and casually headed for the door. "Your clothes should be done by now, I'll show you to the car in a moment."

"I'd rather walk, thank you," she sniffed, glaring in his direction. She was done being stunned, now she was just annoyed. He couldn't just cook her breakfast and kiss her whenever he wanted, and then drive her to school. He hadn't even asked her permission!

He glanced back at her. "I'll show you to the car in a moment," he said again, and left the room.

Maddy stared after him, her mouth agape, then her eyes narrowed. The bastard! What the hell did he want with her? It was all so right, yet all so wrong. They shouldn't be kissing, and he should be way more obvious about his intentions so she could at least make a decision! She couldn't tell if he was using her or just being really, really sweet.

She glanced at the window again, but dismissed the idea. Alright, she'd let him drive her to school, but that was it. After that she'd stop talking to him; she wanted her life to be normal, not even more fucked up.

"Jerk," she muttered, and stood up carefully, once again having to steady herself. Well, at least now she knew his name; after seven years, it was about time.

She left the room in search of her clothes. Time to fix this mess and get on with her life.

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