The Golden Locket

	The whole thing would never have happened if Fiachra wasn't drinking.  He drank very rarely, which was part of the problem, because when he did he always misjudged how much he could handle.  He was ashamed of giving in tonight of all nights, as well.  His birthday was supposed to be a happy occasion.  Ciara baked a cake for him that was almost entirely edible.  Niamh gave him a new flute and Deirdre gave him the bottle of whiskey.  It was her kind of gift, though the way she'd smiled at him told him she knew how much he needed it right now.  He'd always gotten along with the old fox far better than anyone would have expected, given her general mistrust of rabbits, and just about everyone else in the world.  For all that, they seemed to understand each other pretty well.  Like him, Deirdre knew what it was like to be just slightly wrong in everything she did and everything she was.
	It wasn't growing older that bothered him.  As Deirdre pointed out, thirty-three was no age at all.  He couldn't really put his feelings into words, even to himself, except that he'd always felt slightly out of place in the world.  He'd always felt he'd been born into the wrong life somehow, or the wrong state of being.  It wasn't that he was actually unhappy.  He had a good family and girl who loved him, but he was just out of step.
	When the whiskey bottle was half empty he set it down on the floor and went to his bedroom window to watch the sun set.  It had poured rain all day, which did nothing to help his mood, but now the sun made one last brave effort to shine as it slid below the horizon.  It sent little rays of warm yellow light across his floor and across the old wooden dresser on the far side of the room, where something gleamed a brighter gold.  His dresser was where he kept all the most precious fragments of his life.  In pride of place, hanging from the top of the mirror, was a small heart-shaped locket.  It was the same locket that once belonged to his twin sister Aoife, who died when they were little.  Before her, the locket belonged to their mother, Bebinn, and before her to every O'Malley doe going back a hundred and fifty years.  It was thickly inscribed with the names of his mothers and it was the most precious thing he owned.
	He took the locket down from its peg and let it dangle from his fingers to spin in the dying sunlight.  Aoife had been his twin in every way.  She'd had the same light brown fur, the same green eyes, and the same sense of adventure and burning curiosity about the world that was almost unknown among rabbits.  That was what got her killed in the end.  He'd kept her locket to remember her, and to keep some small part of her spirit alive in the world.
	On impulse, driven by drink and loneliness, he put the locket around his neck.  It lay against his chest where it felt slightly heavy and still warm from the sun.  In all the years he'd kept it he'd never tried it on before, but fit like it had always belonged to him.  He rubbed the thickly inscribed surface gently with his fingers and smiled.  He knew he really shouldn't wear it, as it wasn't meant for him, but he maybe it wouldn't hurt to keep it on just for a little while.
	Almost at once, a feeling of light-headedness washed over him.  Half blinded and dizzy, he groped his way back to his chair and half collapsed into it as his legs gave way under him.  The locket burned against his chest and a curious tingling crept over him from his crotch to his collarbone.  His first impulse was to take off the locket, but he couldn't raise his arms.  In spite of this, he wasn't frightened.  After the initial shock, the sensations were actually quite pleasant, but he didn't have any way to tell how long he lay, half slumped in his chair, drifting in and out of what sometimes felt like dreams and, sometimes, like memories.

---

	Fiachra opened her eyes when she heard the front door open.  It took her a moment to remember where she was, and that she'd given Bleu a key to the house.  Bleu hadn't asked for it, as she was much too polite, but Fiachra insisted.  Bleu spent so long off on her adventures that she had nowhere else to stay when she did come home, and anyway Fiachra felt better for having her around.  It was strange, she knew, for a rabbit to enjoy the company of a wolf, but Bleu had taught her to look past such concerns.
	A match scratched in the darkness and a friendly yellow light filled the room as Bleu lit a lantern.  It was then that Fiachra remembered putting on the locket, and she snatched for a blanket to cover herself, but it was too late.  Bleu stood just behind her chair with the lantern raised and a queer look on her face.
	“You're back early,” Fiachra said.
	It was, she knew, a stupid thing to say in the circumstances, but nothing else sounded any better.
	“What the hell happened to you?” Bleu said.
	“I'm not really sure.  You know as much as I do,” Fiachra said.
	Fiachra shook herself to clear her head, and cursed her habit of lounging around the house completely naked.  Whatever the locket had done to her, she was quite female now.  Her breasts were a bit larger than she would have liked, but that seemed a minor complaint.
	“I just put on Aoife's locket and... this,” she said.
	Bleu pushed her gently over into the light, where the girl spent a long moment scowling at her and prodding at various bits of her.  Fiachra blushed when Bleu squeezed her breasts and knelt down to examine her privates, and she felt particularly embarrassed when the girl sniffed her there.
	“This is a joke, right?  It's just some sort of trick?” Bleu said.
	“Oh yes.  I just thought I'd change sex to mess with my girlfriend.  So you can tell me how I did it, right?” Fiachra said.
	Bleu stood up and traced one finger around the locket's gold chain.
	“All this, just because you put on a necklace?” Bleu said.
	“Just like I told you,” Fiachra said.
	Bleu leaned closer to sniff Fiachra again, which turned into a playful nip at Fiachra's throat, which made her jump.
	“Honestly, your curiosity is going to be the end of you one day.  Haven't I told you about what happens if you screw around with magic like this?” Bleu said.
	“How was I supposed to know?  It was just my sister's necklace.  Nobody ever told me it was anything but a bit of gold,” Fiachra said.
	Bleu leaned down to peer at the locket and she prodded at it with a finger.
	“It's so old.  I don't know if there's any way to get this reversed,” Bleu said.
	Fiachra's hands flew up to her chest, and she took a step away from Bleu.
	“I don't want to go back,” she said.
	“I see,” Bleu said.
	Bleu picked the whiskey bottle up from where Fiachra had left it and sat down on the bed.  She bit the top off and took a long drink.  Then she sighed and patted the mattress beside her.
	“You're a strange one, Fiachra O'Malley.  But I don't suppose it matters.  Are you really happy this way?” Bleu said.
	“I think so, yes.  As happy as anyone may be,” Fiachra said.
	“So then.  Come sit beside me and give me a kiss.  I've had a long trip and I want you to help me forget about it for a while,” Bleu said.
	“You don't mind?” Fiachra said.
	“Why should I?  It was you I fell in love with, not what was between your legs.  One way is as good as the other, and if it's what you want then who am I to argue?  Now sit your ass down, girl, and let's not have any more worries tonight,” Bleu said.
	Fiachra sat down beside her and, as she leaned in to give Bleu a kiss, Bleu shifted so that Fiachra's mouth met hers.  The kiss tasted of whiskey and surrender as Bleu moaned softly and pulled Fiachra in tight against her.  After that, neither of them needed to say anything else.

	Fiachra woke first, just as the sky lightened with the dawn.  She felt remarkably clear-headed in spite of everything that had happened last night.  She and Bleu had polished the bottle off between them, and that had only been after they'd been too tired to make love anymore.  Bleu was always insatiable after she came back from her adventures, but last night had been wilder than anything Fiachra could remember.  Every bit of her ached, and the fur on the side of her neck was matted with bite marks from Bleu's enthusiasm.  It had been worth it, though, for all the new sensations she'd discovered last night, and under the soreness her body hummed with remembered delight.
	It was a warm morning, so Fiachra decided to skip getting dressed and she crept to the kitchen to see what she could find for breakfast.  To her disappointment, the larder was nearly empty.  All it yielded were a few day old biscuits and a pot of raspberry jam.  She arranged these neatly on a plate and hoped that Bleu wouldn't mind too much.  Fiachra knew it could be tough for a wolf to live among rabbits, especially when it came to her dinner choices.  Bleu was always a good sport about it, but Fiachra wanted her to be happy, too.
	Bleu opened her eyes as Fiachra came back into the bedroom and she yawned, showing her teeth.  She stretched, arcing her back until something popped, then she sprang up and treated Fiachra to a cheerful smile.
	“It's no wonder I keep you around,” Bleu said.
	“You say that now, but breakfast is a bit on the light side this morning,” Fiachra said.
	“I meant last night,” Bleu said.
	Fiachra blushed, and she busied herself with smoothing the bedclothes so Bleu wouldn't see.
	“That was all you.  I had no idea it could be like that,” Fiachra said.
	“That was only a small taste.  You wait 'til you've gotten a bit of experience, girl,” Bleu said.
	Bleu took a biscuit from the plate and smeared a generous amount of jam on it.  She ate it in a bite and reached for another.
	“We're going to have to go shopping,” Fiachra said.
	“So?  That's not a problem, is it?  If you're worried I'm going to be bored, don't.  There's always excitement, if you know where to look,” Bleu said.
	Fiachra nibbled a biscuit and stared out the window.  Now that some of the euphoria from last night had worn off, she'd begun to realize how much her transformation was going to change her life.
	“Just think of it like another one of those adventures you told me about.  A city full of rabbits shouldn't worry a girl who has faced down armies, should it?”  Bleu said.
	“Those were just foxes.  And I didn't have to live with them,” Fiachra said.
	“You'll have to go outside sometime.  Better to get it done and over with now, before you have time to sit around and fret about it,” Bleu said.
	She pushed Fiachra off the bed and pointed at the dresser.  When Fiachra opened her mouth to argue, Bleu gave her a light slap on the rear.
	“You don't want to be stuck inside with a hungry wolf, either,” Bleu said.
	It took Fiachra a while to find something she could wear.  Most of her shirts were too tight across the chest, thanks to her new bust, and she'd spilled whiskey on her last clean pair of pants last night.  She eventually settled, with some reluctance, on a black dress that Niamh had left behind some time ago.  She let Bleu comb her hair and tease it back into what was actually a very attractive ponytail, and when that was done she couldn't help but admire herself a little in the mirror.  The dress was cool and quite comfortable, and thanks to Bleu's efforts it showed off her new figure to stunning effect while still covering everything she felt should be covered.  Fiachra gave a little twirl, just to feel the way it swirled around her.
	“It feels a little odd.  Kind of exposed, down below.  Does it look okay?” Fiachra said.
	“You look just fine.  You'll be the prettiest girl in town, you have my word.  Now, no more stalling,” Bleu said, and she pushed Fiachra toward the door.
	The Summer Market hadn't started yet, so the square in front of Oseille was rather empty for a change.  A few local merchants kept booths there all year and there was always a scattering of wanderers who were willing to rent space for a day or two, to sell their wares in a safe place.  For the most part, though, things were quiet and there were only a handful of people wandering around between the stalls.  Fiachra would have preferred the bustle and confusion of a proper Market.  More people meant more chances for her to hide in the crowd.  She was glad that Bleu kept a tight hold on her hand, and she took a deep breath and braced herself as they stepped through the gate.
	Fiachra expected the incredulous shouts to start as soon as they entered the square, but most of the people who saw her showed no sign that they recognized her.  A few smiled when they saw her looking at them, and the merchants beckoned to her as always, crying their wares as if everything was the way it had always been.  It was strange, Fiachra thought, to be among rabbits who'd known her for most of her life and for none of them to so much as bat an eye at her transition.
	Only one person in the whole market paid her any more attention than that.  A young rabbit doe in ripped trousers and a baggy t-shirt, who stopped and bowed before them as they passed the wine merchant's stall, which made Fiachra blush.  The girl was little more than a kitten, but there was something in the way she looked at Fiachra that said the child could see straight through her.  All this happened in the space of a single breath, and then the girl was gone again, swallowed up by the crowd before anyone but Fiachra noticed her.
	“You see?” Bleu said.
	“I do.  But I'm not sure I believe it.  They're just being polite,” Fiachra said.
	“Or maybe they really don't care.  As long as you are who you want to be, and don't make a big deal of it, most people will just leave you alone,” Bleu said.
	“Maybe if I dyed my hair pink,” Fiachra said.
	“If it makes you feel better, why not?” Bleu said.
	Fiachra stopped in her tracks and looked away.
	“You're teasing me,” she said.
	“I'm only trying to help,” Bleu said.
	Bleu pushed Fiachra's head up with a finger and they kissed.
	“You worry too much, my dear.  Those who love you won't care, and those who would damn you for being yourself don't matter,” Bleu said.
	Fiachra let Bleu lead her through the market and, gradually, she began to relax.  They bought flour for cakes, vegetables for soup, and another bottle of whiskey for the comfort it brought them.  Bleu bought a packet of pink hair dye, while Fiachra did her best to hide her embarrassment, and the morning slowly wound toward afternoon.  In all that time, nobody said a word to either of them, though Fiachra was almost sure that several of the local merchants recognized her.
	In spite of all of this, Fiachra couldn't completely relax.  She saw the girl from that morning several times as she and Bleu made their way through the fair, always out of the corner of her eye and always just in time for the child to disappear around a corner as soon as Fiachra spotted her.  Each time, the girl wore the same small smile, and Fiachra was perfectly certain she saw the girl bow to her the last time.  It made her nervous and it was all she could do not to run after the girl.
	Fiachra forgot all about the child when she stepped out of a tent at the far end of the market and saw Niamh walking toward her.  Niamh's arms were full of groceries and there was a preoccupied look on her face, so Fiachra thought her sister hadn't spotted her.  Then Niamh looked up and dropped her bags in the middle of the street.  Bottles and packages scattered everywhere, and Fiachra hesitated, torn between helping her sister and getting away, until Bleu pushed past her and knelt down to help Niamh gather her things.
	“Are you okay?” Fiachra said.
	She knelt down between Niamh and Bleu, and the three of them together managed to fumble Niamh's groceries back into their sacks.  Though Niamh didn't help much, as she spent most of that time looking at Fiachra instead.
	“I'm... not sure.  Fiachra?  How long have I had a big sister?” Niamh said.
	“Since last night.  Officially,” Fiachra said.
	“Officially?” Niamh said.
	“It's complicated,” Fiachra said.
	Bleu helped Niamh up, and the two of them leaned against each other for a moment, while Niamh visibly pulled herself together.  The two of them had grown close as sisters since Bleu and Fiachra had started dating, and now Fiachra was glad of it.
	“Is it permanent?” Niamh said.
	“If I'm lucky,” Fiachra said.
	Fiachra took as many of Niamh's bags as she could carry, on top of her own, and Blue gave Niamh a little nudge to turn her around toward Oseille.
	“Who else knows?” Niamh said.
	“Just the three of us, so far.  At least, nobody else has said anything where I could hear it,” Fiachra said.
	“Come have a drink with us,” Bleu said.
	“I think I will,” Niamh said.
	Fiachra led the girls back to her house, where she found three clean glasses lurking at the back of the cupboard.  She poured a good measure of whiskey for each of them and they drank in silence for a while.  Fiachra could see the thoughts going 'round in Niamh's head.  Their family was at least used to magic.  The amethyst pendant Niamh wore was proof against injuries, and Grandmother Saorise could do amazing things with even the simplest medicines.  It was just that none of them had encountered anything quite so dramatic as what had happened to Fiachra before.
	“You never said you wanted to be a girl,” Niamh said.
	“It wasn't your burden.  We always had plenty of other things to worry about,” Fiachra said.
	“But it means you've spent your whole life trying to be someone you're not.  And you're my brother.  Or sister, I mean.  Did you think you couldn't talk to me?” Niamh said.
	“It wasn't anything like that.  I didn't think it was anything I could fix, so why worry anyone else?  Besides, you were happy, and that was all I ever wanted.  Why spoil it?” Fiachra said.
	Niamh blushed and she looked down into her whiskey glass.  Before Fiachra could say another word, there was a knocking at the front door.  Bleu rose at once, with her teeth bared, but Fiachra put a hand on her arm.
	“Stay still.  We don't need any trouble,” Fiachra said.
	“If you say so,” Bleu said, but she didn't sit back down.
	Fiachra finished her drink in a swallow and stood, a little uncertainly, to answer the door herself.
	Instead of the angry mob she expected, there was only the kitten from the Market.  She stood on the very edge of Fiachra's porch and though she smiled when Fiachra came out, she held herself as if she was ready to bolt.
	“Please excuse me, but... you're very pretty.  I know who you are Miss... Miss Fiachra, and I know what people will say.  You're not the first, you know, and they've said it all to me, too. And I'm sorry,” the girl said.
	“You've been following me around all day.  I saw you watching me at the Market.  Who are you?” Fiachra said.
	She didn't dare get any closer to the child, for fear of scaring her away completely, but she knelt down so they were level with each.  The girl turned her head away, with a blush coloring the insides of her ears, but she took a small step closer.
	“My brother is coming to see you.  He's angry, like he always is, like he has any right to be.  Just remember you're not the only one,” the girl said.
	She gave Fiachra a quick, shy glance, then she turned and ran off into the city.  Fiachra stayed where she was for a time, while she tried to put her thoughts in order.  She had a pretty good idea of who was coming to see her.  Most of the rabbits were pretty tolerant of people who were different. If they could live peacefully alongside foxes and wolves, then they weren't going to be bothered much by Fiachra's transformation.  There were always hotheads, though, and those who couldn't move with the times, and even Oseille had its share.
	As Fiachra waited, they came in ones and twos, creeping through the woods in front of her house or walking boldly up the road to gather around her porch.  They weren't quite threatening, but only one of them had the decency to look right at her.  That one was a large white-furred buck, who had his fists clenched and a sneer of anger on his face.  Fiachra recognized him as Bran, a well-known local troublemaker who spent his life living off his family's wealth while he did his best to make life uncomfortable for anyone he thought was beneath him.  He stepped forward when Fiachra stepped out onto her porch, and he raised his fists.
	“So, you have changed yourself, somehow.  I thought Brian was just making up stories again.  Just what do you think you're doing here, O'Malley?  What sort of perversity are you trying to bring to this city?” Bran said.
	“My life is none of your business.  All you need to know is I've finally managed to become who I really am at heart.  Call it what you like, but I don't see how it gives you any right to come to my door like this,” Fiachra said.
	“It is my business, because my little brother saw you in the Market this morning.  You know he's only fourteen, still just a baby, and there you were flaunting yourself for all the world to see,” Bran said.
	“He's seen girls before, hasn't he?  I was buying my dinner, the same as anyone else.  You make it sound like I was walking through the city stark naked,” Fiachra said.
	Bran raised his fists a little higher and took another step forward.  The crowd stirred uneasily behind him, and Fiachra wondered how they might react if Bran attacked her.  Whatever any of them might think of her, she knew Bran was even less popular.
	“You aren't really female.  I don't know what you've done to yourself, but you're nothing but a fool,” Bran said.
	“Is that all you came to say?  Only I have better things to do with my time than stand out here all day,” Fiachra said.
	“We want you out of the city,” Bran said.
	This time, the uneasiness in the crowd was even more noticeable and Fiachra saw several people at the back of the group turn and slink quietly away.  The rest moved back away from Bran so that he and Fiachra were alone in a wide circle of empty space.
	“You want me to leave.  I'm not sure your friends back there are quite as adamant, and in any case I'm certainly not going anywhere.  This is my home, too,” Fiachra said.
	Bran shot forward, and before Fiachra could move away he punched her in the mouth.  Fiachra yelped and stumbled back, and Bran hit her again.
	“If you won't go, we'll make you leave.  You won't get any peace until you go far away and never come back,” Bran said.
	Bran struck her again, and Fiachra tasted blood from the cut on her lip.
	That was when Niamh came outside.  She had Bleu's sword in one hand, and she stepped neatly in between Bran and Fiachra.  She didn't have her weapon raised, but the look of anger on her face made Bran draw back sharply.
	“You will not hit my sister again,” Niamh said.
	Bran sneered, and for a moment Fiachra thought he might actually try to hit Niamh, but he let his hands drop to his sides.  Nobody had ever seen Niamh strike someone else in anger before, but everybody in the city knew Ciara had taught her how to fight.
	“You would defend this sickness.  Your whole damned family is nothing but trouble,” Bran said.
	“That's what people say, until they need our help again.  We've earned our place here, and if Fiachra has found what she needs to be happy then she's earned that, too, and nobody has any right to deny it to her,” Niamh said.
	Niamh took hold of Fiachra's arm and, without taking her eyes off of Bran, she pulled Fiachra back inside the house.  Fiachra's last sight of Bran, before the door shut, was of him turning back to what was left of his friends.  She noticed, too, that none of them would look at Bran, either.  She knew he'd come back.  People like Bran never gave up, and he'd probably find some new allies soon enough, but Fiachra wasn't scared of him anymore.  She took the sword out of Niamh's unresisting hand and leaned it against the wall.
	“I thought I told you to stay put,” she said.
	“You told me to,” Bleu said, as she came in and put her arms around Fiachra's waist, “Thank goodness your sister is as stubborn as you are.”
	Niamh gave her an embarrassed smile and the three of them turned to watch the last of the crowd disappear into the city.
	“You aren't in this alone,” Niamh said.