Niamh—The Sunward Warren

	The Sunward Warren was only a couple of miles east of Oseille, but it was cut off from the town by a narrow finger of the surrounding forest, which forced visitors to go a half an hour out of their way or get lost in the trees.  The Warren was a low, round house, like the ones in town but twice as wide, and that part of it that was above ground was covered over with bricks.  It had been built on the top of a ridge overlooking the river, and the only way to reach it was by going over a narrow footbridge and up a stony path through the trees.  Two years ago Saoirse had built a tall wooden fence around it to keep people away from the house.  It had even worked on Ciara until Niamh had given her a key to the back gate.
	When Embarr stopped at the bridge, Niamh nuzzled the back of Ciara's neck, burying her face in the scent of her vixen's fur.  Ciara hadn't said a word since they'd left the tavern, and she had spent the whole trip back staring off at something only she could see.  She didn't stir at Niamh's touch, except to lean back a little into her embrace.
	“It will have to be tomorrow,” she said.
	“You aren't really going to go to Cearnach are you?” said Niamh.
	“If I don't, then what?  Do you think I should just sit here and watch my home get torn apart?” said Ciara.
	“They've always left us alone before.”
	“You didn' t have anything they wanted before.  I don't want to believe that my father would do what that cat was suggesting  But if he gets the idea that holding on to Oseille would keep Blackpool from having it, well... he can be pretty stupid sometimes.”
	“I’ll meet you at the pond then, as early as I can,” said Niamh.
	She felt Ciara stiffen and felt her raise her head, mouth opening to offer foolish arguments.  If her friend had any failing, it was a tendency to fall back into an old way of thinking.
	“There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind.  If you're going, then so am I,” said Niamh.
	“Can you be ready that soon?” said Ciara.
	“I'll have to be,” she said.
	“It’s a long way, and I don’t know if Connor will listen to me or not.  I’m not really certain what’s going to happen when we get there.”
	“Don’t defeat yourself before you’ve gotten started.  We’ll be okay.  Everything is going to work out fine,” she said.
	Embarr walked carefully up the path, moving slowly so his hooves wouldn’t make any noise.  But Saorise was leaning on the back gate, waiting for them.  When she saw them she straightened and pushed the gate open.
	“You chose a bad day to wander off, Niamh.  Fiachra was his usual loyal self and he didn’t tell me anything, but I’m not blind.  Why did you sneak off this time?” she said.
	“I ran out of pills for my leg.  It still hurts, so I went to get some more,” said Niamh.  
	She pulled a bottle of pills out of her pocket and shook it.  She had stopped taking them weeks ago, because they made her drowsy, so the bottle was still mostly full.
	“I see.  I suppose you just happened to run into Ms. Lohan, too, and she offered to bring you home out of kindness,” said Saorise.  
	The very tip of Ciara’s tail twitched back and forth twice, before Niamh could get a hand clamped down on it.
	“She was limping.  I’ve been told that there are Blackpool soldiers in the area, so I thought it might be best if she got home quickly,” said Ciara.
	Saoirse snorted and pushed the gate a little wider.  Niamh slid down off of Embarr’s back and when she landed, Saoirse darted out, pulled her through the gate and
slammed it shut.
	“Thank you for bringing her home.  I’m sure it wasn’t necessary, but it was a kind gesture.  Now, please.  I’m sure you have things to do elsewhere,” said Saoirse.  
	Ciara stayed where she was for a moment, looking down at them.  Then she touched Embarr on the shoulder, and said something to him that made him stamp a hoof and whicker.  She turned him around, and they started down the hill at a slow walk.  When they passed by the gate again, Saoirse tightened her grip on Niamh’s arm and didn’t let go until Embarr broke into a gallop at the end of the bridge, heading back towards town.
	“You haven’t taken any pills in a month,” she said, and she pushed Niamh towards the house.
	The front two rooms of the house wer filled up with clutter.  A hundred years ago Niamh's family had actually ruled Oseille in the same way the Ciara's father still ruled the City of Foxes.  They had finally lost their power, along with most of their money, because her great-great-grandfather had been more fond of does than the welfare of the town.  But they had been left with a lot of the family antiques, some of which were quite valuable.  Every bedroom had an ancient four-poster  bed and a marble-topped washstand.  There was a three-hundred year old chandelier hanging over the kitchen table, and Niamh had grown up with a collection of broken swords on her bedroom wall.
	The living room was filled with chairs, benches and stools to the point where it was nearly impossible to walk through the room without banging into corners with every step.  Saoirse sat down on a bench close to the door and folded her hands in her lap.  Niamh picked her way through the tangle, bruising her shin only slightly on a box full of cushions and took refuge in a musty-smelling armchair.
	“You know what I think of foxes.  But I’ve never actually stopped you from seeing Ciara Lohan because she doesn’t seem that bad for what she is.  She hasn’t hurt you, and I could almost believe that she never would,” said Saoirse.
	“She’s won't.  Ciara has always been very kind to me.  She’s even polite to you, for all the good that does her,” said Niamh.
	“I will admit that she has proven to be a far better person than I ever thought any fox could be.  This is why I haven’t tried to stop you from seeing her.  But you may not follow her to Cearnach.”
	“I can’t let her go back there by herself.  She's going to need my help.”
	“The City of Foxes is no place for a rabbit.”
	“No, it isn't.  So how can you sit here and watch Ciara go there all by herself?”
	“Why shouldn't I?  She's a fox.  She'll probably be happier among her own kind,” said Saoirse.
	“But she's not really a fox in her heart.  Not anymore,” said Niamh.
	Saoirse put her hands over her face, and pulled them down with a low moan.  She was an old rabbit, closing in on sixty, and she had always been set in her ways.  Sometimes it seemed to Niamh that it was actually physically painful for her grandmother to try to change the way she thought.
	“Never trust a fox,” said Saoirse.  It had been her oldest mantra since Niamh was a kitten.
	“What about rabbits?  She's fine when you need her, when she's shoeing your horses or fixing your plow.  Which she didn't even charge you for.  But when she needs help--”
	“What can you do?  You're just a fat little rabbit who has never been anywhere.  What do you know about anything?” said Saoirse.
	Niamh jumped to her feet, and Saoirse did the same, but they were too far apart. Niamh bolted down the narrow steps that led underground before Saoirse could get around the tangle of chair to catch her.
	Her room was the smallest in the house.  It had been a closet before she had been born, and it had never been properly finished.  The walls were red brick, and the floor was stone, but she’d put down carpet and hung a few cheap paintings to brighten it up.  Her bed was made of a heap of blankets and a thin mattress on the floor, but it was comfortable.  Saoirse had offered to give her a real bed, but she had been too stubborn to take it.  Her room was her only private space, and she wouldn’t put anything it it that didn’t belong to her.  All of the old furniture stank too much of the past, anyway, and of ground-in dust that made her sneeze.
	She took an old backpack she’d saved down from its place on the shelf above her bed, and started stuffing clothes into it.  Most of them came unfolded, so that eventually she was left cramming things into corners as best she could.  But the back was army surplus, and bigger than she needed, so it didn't matter.  She left her paintings, because they were too fragile to go with her, and her books which were too heavy.  It hurt her to leave them, since she didn't know if she was ever coming back.  But too much would slow her down.
	After a while, there was a knock on her door, and it opened just enough for Fiachra to stick his head through.
	“Will you give me a minute?” he said.
	“I’m not listening.  Go away,” she said.
	She stuffed one last shirt into her pack, and tied it closed.  He came the rest of the way into her room, without waiting to be invited, and shut the door.
	“Everything has already been decided.  I'm going, and that's it,” she said.
	“I know,” he said.
	“Then why are you wasting my time?”
	“The City of Foxes is a dangerous place, and you’ll only get yourself into trouble if you go there.  I know you think Ciara can protect you there, and she probably thinks she can, too, but what if she can’t?  She lived a pretty sheltered life while she was there.”
	“So it’s a dangerous city, I know.  But if this war starts, and we have soldiers from both sides trying to take control of Oseille, I won’t be any safer here, will I?”
	He came over and put a hand on her shoulder.  She shrugged away from him, but he put it back again and squeezed a little.
	“Just slow down and think about this,” he said.
	“I am thinking.”
	She got up and started pacing as much as the cramped room would allow, unsure of what to do next.  If she stopped, she’d have to recognize that she was afraid, and she refused to admit that, even to herself.  Being afraid was what a rabbit was expected to be.
	“I don’t have any other choice.  I have to do it because I love Ciara too much not to,” she said.
	She picked up her pack with one hand, and with the other, she shoved Fiachra back against the wall.  He was bigger than she was, and he could have stopped her if he had tried.  But he only made a token effort to grab her when she ran up the stairs, and she slipped out of his grasp easily enough.
	The sun had already set, but Saoirse had only lit a single lantern, which she’d set on the table by her chair.  She sat slumped down in the cushions of her chair, the way Niamh had left her, and the darkness made her look old.   Niamh stopped in front of the chair, and let the old doe put a hand on her wrist.
	“Love can make you stupid, girl.  And the worst part is that everyone has to find this out for themselves.  You love her, she loves you, and you don’t want to think about anything else,” said Saoirse.
	“Everyone gets to make their own mistakes,” said Niamh.
	“I've always let you, haven't I?  But if I let you go now, I'll never see you again.”
	“You will.  I won’t be gone forever.  If Ciara can get her father to listen, this might not take any time at all.”
	“He won't.  He threw her away.  He isn't going to want to see her now,” said Saoirse.
	Niamh went out and tucked her key under the doormat, where she always hid it when she went out.  She walked down the old footpath to the main road without looking back, and she ran all the way to Oseille, without much pain in her bad leg.  She climbed up over the wall at a point close to Ciara’s home and ran through the town to her front door.  
	The lights in Ciara’s kitchen were still on and she knocked repeatedly at the door until Ciara opened it.  Her clothes were lightly dusted with flour, and she was still holding a metal spatula in one hand.  She smelled of sweet spices, and she smiled and pushed the door open to let Niamh in without saying a word.