Niamh and the Wolf
January 2011

	Niamh knew better than to go into the forest by herself.  Grandmother Saoirse had said it was full of outlaws and all kinds of dangerous animals waiting to pounce on her and eat her up.  Even Fiachra had warned her to stay away.  Ever since he'd turned fifteen he'd started acting like he was an adult now, too.  But Niamh knew he went out there sometimes with a couple of his friends to do whatever it was boys did.  They never would tell her.
	One afternoon when Saoirse was away in town, and Fiachra had shut himself up in his room, Niamh slipped out the back door.  The three of them lived on Saoirse's farm, less than a mile away from the edge of the forest.  Some days, when the wind was right, Niamh could smell the trees and moss and the little flowers that grew in the depths of the forest.  Sometimes, if she was good, Grandmother would bring her fruit from the bushes and trees that grew there.  Her favorites were raspberries, and they were in season now.
	She crept out to the back gate, her long ears erect and listening for any noise from the house.  She could hear, over and over in her head, her grandmother telling her “The forest is no place for a rabbit.  We're creatures of the open field, where we can see our enemies coming”.  But Saoirse was old, and couldn't run as fast as she said she used to.  Niamh knew that her legs could keep her safe.  She was big for her ten years, too, and she could already out-wrestle her brother.
	It had rained the night before and the sky was clear and bright blue with no clouds in sight.  The sun beat down on her and worked its heat into her muscles, while a steady breeze kept her from getting too hot.  As she walked she made a game of hunting the little flowers that grew in the tall grass by the side of the road.  They were pale blue and didn't have much taste, so she just twined a few of them into her hair and tried to remember how to weave grass stalks into a necklace.
	Along the way she passed old Doctor Cullen who was scraping bark off of a willow tree.  The old skunk paused in his work and peered at her over his glasses as she passed, and she gave him a polite smile.  He was almost as old as her grandmother and he always walked with a stout oak stick these days, but he had a quick temper and he was quick to give any child who annoyed him a swat on the backside with his staff.
	“You should go back home, girl.  Your grandmother will be looking for you,” he said.
	“She's gone to town.  She won't be home for hours,” said Niamh.
	“Go home anyway.  I haven't got time to fret with you now,” said Cullen.
	Instead, she went over to stand under the tree he was working on.  He had a long, thin knife in his hand, and he was peeling strips of bark away while taking care not to cut the tree underneath.
	“Why?” she said.
	“Medicine,” he said “I grind this up into powder, and it takes away pain for a while.”
	“Grandmother gets bottles of pills all the way from Cearnach.  There's an old black rabbit who brings carts of the stuff to the Fair every summer,” said Niamh.
	“I know.  It's her health, if she wants to risk it, but the old ways are best,” said Cullen.
	He folded his strips of bark up in a soft cloth and put them in the satchel he wore slung over his shoulder.
	“I sometimes think the whole town would fall down without me.  You won't wander too far, will you?” he said.
	“Just a little way into the forest,” said Niamh.
	“How come?  There's nothing there but thorns and stickers.  No place for a lady like you,” said Cullen.
	“That's what Fiachra says.  But he goes out there all the time.  I want to see why,” said Niamh.
	Cullen smiled and ruffled her hair, which Niamh had always hated.
	“You won't find what your brother likes there today.  She's only got eyes for him,” he said.
	She expected him to follow her when she kept walking, but he just turned back to his bark gathering with a grunt.  He'd told her, once, that there were no such thing as children when he was her age, only young adults.  Sometimes she went to hang out with him at his surgery because he was the only adult in Oseille who didn't look down on her.  But today she wanted to get to the forest so she could get home before Grandmother got back and noticed she was gone.
	This far from Oseille the road was narrow and winding, and the grass on either side grew above her head.  Niamh enjoyed the illusion of walking through a tunnel, and she spread her arms out to trail her fingers through the grass, sometimes turning around to watch it sway and bob in her wake.  She was so engrossed in her game that she didn't see the wolf until he stepped out onto the road in front of her.  He was a huge creature with dirty, matted fur and thick iron bracelets around his wrists.  His right arm was stripped of fur to the elbow and a badly healed cut ran along his inner arm where someone had tried to cut the manacle off of him.  He bowed and smiled at her with yellow teeth.
	“Good afternoon, little Miss.  I do hope I haven't startled you,” he said.
	Niamh bit her lip and shook her head.  Of course he wanted her to say yes.  Even the friendliest wolves delighted in playing tricks on rabbits, though they were usually harmless.  Still, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.
	“You're an outlaw.  I'm not supposed to talk to you,” she said.
	“Just five minutes?  What harm could that do?  You're too young to get into trouble,” he said.
	“That's not the point,” she said.
	It didn't matter what he'd done.  He was probably a thief like most outlaws.  Wolves killed their murderers right away.  She stepped off the side of the road to walk around him, but he blocked her path.
	“Little Miss, please.  I haven't eaten in three days.  A few coins, if you have them.  A few berries, and I won't trouble you any further,” he said.
	He clasped his hands to his breast and his eyes filled with tears as he spoke, until he had to wipe them away with the end of his tail.
	“I'm not supposed to,” said Niamh.
	Wolves came to Oseille to buy and sell the same as everyone else.  But the wolves in the marketplace never showed so many teeth when they smiled, and they never stood so close to her.  Oseille belonged to rabbits, and it was understood as neutral territory.  Predation was illegal in all the major cities.  Out here, in the wilderness, things were much different.
	“Manners,” said the wolf, and he shook himself “Names.  Mine is... no, I'm not allowed tell you anymore.  Liath will do.”
	He thrust out his hand and didn't take any notice when she jumped away from him.
	“I should go home,” she said, but Liath's eyes brimmed with tears again.
	Niamh hated to see anyone cry.  She was just old enough to remember her Grandmother Saoirse crying for weeks on end when she was a kitten.  Later she'd been told that it was for her mother's death.  Niamh had only dim memories of her mother.  All she could remember was being cradled against soft fur, and her mother's name.
	“Bébinn,” she said.
	The wolf grinned and clapped his hands together.  Niamh had barely been aware she'd spoken and she laid her ears back in fear and embarrassment.
	“Look at you, darling child.  Do you know you're the first person to tell me her name in more than a year?  Bébinn.  It's a beautiful name for the child I know will be my salvation,” said Liath.
	By now he had circled around her so she was facing the way she'd come and he was between her and home.  His grin was less friendly now and Niamh didn't trust the way he kept looking back over his shoulder.  When he reached out to her again her nerve broke and she ran.  She plunged into the trees beyond the road and was lost at once.  The trees swallowed her and the sun vanished from the sky.  She could heard Liath crashing through the brambles off to her right, and she veered left, heading deeper into the forest.  She had lost her sandals when she started to run, and she bruised her feet against tree roots and small rocks that poked up through the soil, but she kept moving.
	She ran for what felt like hours.  Every time she thought Liath had finally lost her, she heard him stumbling through the forest some way behind her.  He'd never once come close to finding her.  She'd heard that wolves could hunt by scent, and by now she was smeared all over with the sap of dozens of plants, and her fur was full of burrs.  She kept moving because she was afraid that if she stayed in one place for too long he'd blunder into her.
	It was growing dark when she reached the clearing.  The trees ended abruptly at the top of a shallow hill, but she didn't see the decline until she missed her footing and fell.  She landed on her back in a drift of leaves and banged her head against a rock.  The pain made her dizzy and she lay where she'd fallen, too hurt and winded to get back up.  She cried for a little while, with her hands over her mouth to keep quiet.
	“You're being very rude,” said Liath.
	He came out of the darkness and squatted on top of her so she couldn't get up.
	“Please don't hurt me.  Let me go home,” said Niamh.
	“A big girl like you should know better than to beg,” said Liath “Are you afraid of me?”
	“Don't eat me,” said Niamh.
	Liath laughed and pressed one hand against her chest until she couldn't breathe.  He held her like that until her vision began to blur, and when he let go he laughed while she coughed and struggled for breath.
	“That's what wolves do, my dear.  Isn't that what you've been taught?  If I'm going to be the bad guy before you know me, well why not be bad?” he said.
	“You don't have to be,” said Niamh.
	“You are innocent, aren't you?  It's too bad, in a way.  Nobody ever learns unless the children suffer,” said Liath.
	He took her left hand in his and raised to his lips to kiss her knuckles.  She could see his teeth gleaming in the fading light as he slipped her fourth finger into his mouth, and she felt his tongue lap at her palm like a hot sponge.  She tried to pull away, but Liath held her fast.
	“I want to go home.  Please,” she said.
	Liath just flattened his ears and bit down hard.  The pain woke her up.  She squealed and thrashed against him, hitting him with her free hand everywhere she could reach.  He didn't fight her.  He kept both of his hands locked around her wrist, and she could feel him growling down the length of her arm.
	She landed a lucky blow on his nose which made him flinch and bite down harder.  She screamed when she felt her finger snap and tear away from her hand, and she hit him again.  It wasn't enough to hurt him, but it made him shift his weight enough that he lost his balance.  She was up and running again before he could recover and she knew that if she could just reach the trees on the other side of the clearing she'd be safe.  It was almost completely dark now, and she could squeeze into a little hole where Liath wouldn't be able to reach her.
	She was halfway across the clearing when Liath caught her again.  He swept her up off her feet and bit her hard on the hip until his teeth scraped on bone.  Then he threw her down on the ground again.  She had just enough wit left to put her arms around her head as she fell.
	“I am grateful to you, Miss Bébinn.  You shall be my salvation after all,” he said.
	She was too hurt and too weak to stop him from tying his belt her neck and looping the other end around a sapling nearby.  He tore the sleeves off her shirt to tie her arms behind her back, then set about building a fire.  He broke branches off the nearby trees and gathered all the fallen wood he could find and piled it all up in the middle of the clearing.  Niamh sat on the ground where he'd dumped her and focused on ignoring the pain in her hand.  Her remaining fingers were matted and sticky with blood and she imagined she could feel fresh blood flow out of the wound with every heartbeat.
	It was dark by the time Liath got his fire lit.  He capered around it like some pagan worshiper piling on more wood and fanning the flames until Niamh could feel the heat where she lay.  She had no doubt what the fire was for.  She wondered if he would kill her first, or if he would throw her on the pyre just as she was.  She didn't know which would be worse.
	“The White Lady of Death is coming for you.  Look,” said Liath.
	He knelt beside her and lifted her head up with his hand.  There was a pale white glow coming from the far side of the clearing.  It flickered like the firelight and at first Niamh thought it was just a trick.  Her eyes stung from the brightness of the light and she wanted to look away, but Liath held her in place.
	“You may have a moment to pray to whatever gods your family holds sacred,” he said.
	“Why?” she said.
	“You think I'm a monster, and maybe you're right.  They tell me that my soul is lost.  I won't destroy yours as well,” he said.
	Niamh forced herself up onto her knees.  Her family had never been religious.  Grandmother Saoirse had never taught her any prayers, though she knew that sometimes Grandmother would mumble a little something to herself.  It had never seemed important before.  Now, with the white light coming closer she wondered how you talked to a god.
	Several things happened all at once.  Liath tugged hard on the leash around her neck, dragging her closer to the fire.  The belt cinched tight around her neck, cutting off her breath.  He was grunting and growling as her knees scraped across the rocks and branches on the clearing floor, but they never got closer to the fire.  Instead he dragged her around in a wide circle in an effort to both keep the fire between them and the white light, and pull her with him toward the trees.  Only the leather of the belt must have been old.  It snapped after only a few feet and Niamh fell flat on her face in the grass.
	She had the strength to roll herself over on her back, but with her arms tied behind her back, she couldn't pick herself up.  The fire was so close that she could hear the wood pop and crack in the flames, and the heat made her gasp for breath.  Liath was still growling somewhere nearby, and she thought she could feel his hand gripping her ankle.  She couldn't see the white light anymore.  Everything around her was red with the firelight and it was so bright she couldn't keep her eyes open.
	“I wondered how long it would take for someone to catch up to me.  I should have killed the little bitch straight away.  But I'm not going anywhere with a scrawny thing like you,” said Liath.
	Something cracked right above her head and there was a flood of wet, sticky heat across her legs and up to her waist.  Liath's growling had stopped, and she thought she heard him whimper just once.  Then there was silence, and even the crackling of the fire was muted and far away.
	When Niamh opened her eyes, the while light was all around her.  A slender white rabbit in a purple dress knelt beside her.  The rabbit's ears were black, the left slightly notched at the base, and there was a black stripe across her nose.
	“Mom?” said Niamh.
	The white rabbit had a comfortably familiar smell of spices and new-turned earth that reminded her of home.  It was the same smell Grandmother Saoirse had.
	“Still your mother's child, I see.  You were always a mischief when you were a baby,” said Bébinn.
	“I remember.  You were always so busy,” said Niamh.
	Bébinn slipped one hand under Niamh's back and helped her to sit up.  Bébinn reached back with her other hand and held up a silver flask.
	“Drink this,” said Bébinn.
	Niamh sniffed it but she couldn't smell anything except the water, so she obeyed.  The water was cold and there was more of it than the bowl should have been able to held.  Once she started drink, Niamh realized how thirsty she was and she drank until she was full.
	“It won't heal everything, but it will stop the pain,” said Bébinn.
	Niamh felt her mother lift her up, and when she raised her head the way she used to do, Bébinn gave her a kiss on the cheek.  The glow around them had grown yellow, like light from a lantern, and it no longer hurt to look at, but Niamh's eyes kept drifting closed against her will.
	“What happened to Liath?” said Niamh.
	“Hush now.  He can't hurt you anymore.  Just close your eyes and rest,” said Bébinn.
	Niamh felt her mother kiss her a second time, and the light faded away.

	When Niamh woke up, she was lying in her own bed.  Someone had bandaged her hand, and her clothes were washed and folded on the chair by her bed.  There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and she felt dizzy for a moment when she sat up, but except for a little stiffness in her muscles there wasn't any pain.  Bits of memory came floating back to her while she dressed.  After the night in the forest she had spent several days in bed, while Cullen and her grandmother fussed over her and made her drink an ocean of medicine.  She wondered whether there was any bark left on any of the willow trees in Viridis.
	Somebody was cooking breakfast upstairs, and she could smell pancakes and hot syrup.  She slipped out of her room and was about to head upstairs to the kitchen when Saoirse came up behind her and grabbed her by the ear.
	“You scared the life out of me, Miss,” said Saoirse.
	“I only wanted to see what was out there,” said Niamh.
	“Well you saw, didn't you?  Next time you'll listen to me, won't you?” said Saoirse.
	“What about Mom?”
	Saoirse looked away for a moment and made a show of wiping the hair out of her eyes.
	“You've been dreaming.  I was the one who found you with that awful wolf.  I was the one brought you home,” said Saoirse.
	“But I saw her.”
	Saorise was brown, like Niamh was, and only white down the front.
	“She'd be here for you if she could.  All I know is what I saw,” said Saoirse.
	“And Liath?”
	“Your grandfather gave me a crossbow for my birthday one year.  He always said that a rabbit has to learn to protect herself.  I promised him I'd always keep in practice,” said Saoirse.
	Saoirse dropped to her knees and grabbed Niamh in a tight hug.  When Saoirse looked up at her again, Niamh was startled to see tears in her grandmother's eyes.
	“You are your mother's child.  I should have remembered that sooner.  Next time, take Fiachra with you.  Don't mind him if he grumbles.  He was out looking for you all night, just like I was,” said Saoirse.
	She kissed Niamh on the cheek and led her upstairs to where Fiachra was setting breakfast on the table.