Niamh—Sibling Rivalry

	Niamh had never been so glad to see the Oseille Road in her life.  The seat of her pants were soaked with horse sweat, and being so far off the ground made her dizzy.  Her arms ached, too, from having to fight him at every turn.  She didn’t know any of the right commands, and she hadn't mastered enough of the vulpine language to speak to him like Ciara did.  He knew her well enough to trust her on his back, but her ignorance confused him, and half the things she tried had been met with either stubborn immobility, or wild galloping.  After a while she had given up and clung on to him as best she could.
	Two armies had turned the road into a wide streak of mud. Most of the trees that had grown up along the side of the road had been cut down, and the bushes had been burned back.  The whole place stank of predators and smoke.  She urged Embarr closer to the side of the road, for the illusion of safety that it gave, and for once he didn’t object.  She could feel the tension in his muscles and she petted his neck to soothe him.
	When they got to the head of the path to the Sunward Warren, she was able to stop him with a light tug on his mane.  The trees had been cut back here, too, but the path was still hidden.  She was glad of that.  Forgetting her hunger, and the pain in her hip, she slid off of Embarr’s back and pushed into the trees.
	Embarr bumped the small of her back with his muzzle.  When she didn’t look at him, he grabbed her shirt in his teeth and tugged.
	“Don’t be a pest.  I just want to make sure everyone is all right, and then we'll go,” she said.
	He nudged her again, harder this time, and shoved her deeper into cover.  She barked at him, the way she'd heard Ciara do when she was annoyed with him, but she didn't get the tone right.  He just flicked an ear at her, and turned his head to look up the road towards Oseille.
	“What is it?” she said.
	She turned her ears in the direction he was looking, and when she held her breath, she could just hear footsteps getting closer.  In her haste to see her family she had forgotten about the soldiers all around them.  She led Embarr up a low hill, into a cluster of trees that she and her brother had planted as children.  The black stallion lay down, and she hid behind him.
	There was silence for a time.  When she listened again, the footsteps had stopped, and even the sound of Embarr's breathing was muted.  Then a stick prodded her arm.
	“Your fox has already left.  If you’ve come to ask me for help, you’re too late for that, too.  There are people here who are worse off than you,” said Saoirse.
	The old doe pulled Niamh up, and brushed the mud off of her with a few brisk strokes.  Niamh was startled to see that her grandmother was starting to show her age.  Days of worry, and her sixty-first birthday had hit Saorise all at once, and left her stooped and grey.
	“What is it you want?  I didn’t think I’d see you back here again so soon,” said Saoirse.
	“I came back to make sure you were okay,” said Niamh.
	“I’m not who you should be worried about.  You know what kind of trouble your girl can get herself into.”
	“I lost her,” said Niamh.
	“I know.  You thought I was joking when I suggested the leash,” said Saoirse.  She touched Embarr under his chin, and brought him to his feet with a gentle push with her fingertips.
	“Feargus said she was in Blackpool with her mother.  But she promised she'd come back to me,” said Niamh.
	Saoirse clucked her tongue, and led Embarr up the path to the Warren with a lock of his mane twined around her fingers.  Niamh followed them, and kept her own hand on Embarr's shoulder, afraid of losing him, too.
	“So you just ran off to find her, the very minute you found out.  Did you even pack anything to eat?” said Saoirse.
	“She could be hurt.”
	“Just like always.  The only one of you who could have been hurt was you.”
	At the top of the hill, Saoirse let Embarr into the big paddock where she kept her  prized horses.  He stuck his muzzle in the water trough and sucked greedily at it, while Saoirse combed briars out of his mane with her fingers.
	Fiachra met them at the door.  He was holding mugs of hot tea, and he looked as sleepless as Saoirse. 
	“What were you thinking, letting her run off by herself?” he said.
	“Why didn’t you stop her?  Connor said she got shot, too, and where were you when that happened?  You could have done something,” said Niamh.
	“I did,” he said.
	Saoirse grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck and shook them.
	“Neither of you are helping right now.  Bring Ciara home safely, then fight if you have to,” she said, and she shoved them inside.
	The big front room was empty.  All of the old chairs and antique furniture had been taken away, and all that was left was a worn table and three spindly stools.  The floor was badly scuffed in places, and deep scratches led to the top of the stairs going down to the private rooms.  Saoirse sat them down on two of the stools, the way she had done when they were little, and limped to the cupboard.
	“You’ve lost weight.  If you’re going to insist on chasing all around the island, you should at least eat properly.  When was the last time you had more than bread and wine to eat?” said Saoirse.
	She took a chipped wooden tray out of the cupboard and rooted in the back for a piece of hard cheese and a scattering of wilted vegetables.  A little more searching turned up half a loaf of bread as well.  She arranged these neatly around a small pot of jam.
	“I’ve already given away more than I can spare, but I won’t need much with the two of you gone,” she said.
	“Two?  I’m going by myself.  Somebody has to stay and look after you,” said Niamh.
	Saorise tossed the tray on the table so that it landed with a  bang.  A wrinkled radish bounced out off the tray and Fiachra caught it as it rolled toward him.  He split it with his claws, and held half of it out to Niamh, who took it.
	“Take your brother with you.  I don't need a pair of lovesick kittens to look after me,” said Saorise.
	“Why do you care?  I thought you would be happy she was gone,” said Niamh.
	“I thought I would be too, nine years ago.  But she's your friend,” said Fiachra.
	“And he's in love with her, too,” said Saoirse.
	Fiachra choked on his radish and looked down at his lap.  Half a dozen different emotions roiled around in Niamh's stomach, and she had to clutch the edge of the table to keep from falling off her seat.
	“What happened to all the lectures on how dangerous foxes were?  You always said she’d turn on me,” said Niamh.
	“I always thought she would.  You know what foxes are like,” he said.
	“Better than you do.  Ciara has always been very kind to me, and to you, too,” said Niamh.
	“Yes, but she’s different.  She’s—“
	“She’s mine.”
	The anger in her tone stung them both into silence, and this time it was Niamh who looked away.
	“You’re acting just like her.  Both of you are so damned stubborn, you won't let anybody help you,” said Fiachra.
	“I've seen the way people look at her.  Nine years, and they're still waiting for her to steal their children in the night.  You were, too,” said Niamh.
	“But I learned.  You don't have to believe me, but don't leave me behind,” he said.
	Niamh put some of the bread, and a few radishes in her pocket for the trip, and she took half a carrot for Embarr, as a reminder of more pleasant times.  She left the rest, because winter was coming, and she knew how hard it was for Saoirse to walk to town in the snow.
	“I can't stay,” she said “I shouldn't have stopped.”
	“You care too much.  I think you learned that from Ciara, too.  Both of you will have to learn that you can't fix everything,” said Saoirse.
	They both followed her out to the paddock where Embarr was grazing.  Fiachra sulked and dragged his feet, but Saoirse looked pleased with herself.  When Niamh opened the paddock gate, Embarr rushed over to her, prancing like a colt.  She had to grab one of his ears to get him to hold still long enough for her to mount.
	“That's no reason not to try,” she said.
	She barked at Embarr again, and this time she got close enough to get him moving.  He jumped over the paddock fence, and landed on the path leading back down to the road, already gathering speed.
She got him reined in at the bottom of the hill, and held him to a fast trot.  The predators around the city were going to be jumpy enough and they would shoot at a running horse, no matter who was on his back.  He didn’t fight her this time, but as they approached the clearing she could feel the tension running through him.  She could feel his heartbeat through her legs, and when he shied at a falling branch, she jumped too.
The two armies had set up their camps on opposite sides of the town, with little more than the width of Oseille's new gate between their borders.  The smoke from their fires made the afternoon sunlight look hazy, and the sky was filled with flags.  There were soldiers everywhere, scurrying through the muddy field in ones and twos, or marching around in tight clusters with weapons drawn.  From this distance they all looked the same, and Niamh wondered how any of them knew who their friends were.
It was quiet enough that she was able to hear the horse coming up behind her.  Embarr turned without prompting, and she wrapped both hands in his mane.  If they were going to be in trouble, the best they could do was run.
It was Fiachra, on the back of his little red gelding.  The pony was nervous in Embarr's shadow, and Fiachra still wore a bruised look around his eyes.  But they were determined.
“She’s yours.  You know better than to think I'd take that from you.  But you don’t know the way,” he said.
“Embarr knows how to get there,” she said.
“Do you really think so?  I know he’s bright, but he’s still just an animal,” said Fiachra.
“We'll just have to hope,” she said.
They sat together for a moment, watching the soldiers moving through the broken wall around their home.  Then Niamh urged Embarr into a fast trot, and Fiachra's gelding fell in beside them.