Whether or not it was on account of the argument, I cannot tell, but neither of us saw Aoife the following day, nor did we look for her. There was no telling how her meeting with Aódhan had gone, or whether they had met at all, for that matter. It should thus come as no surprise that our curiosities got the better of us, and that the argument was a matter of the past, now that my 'excursions' into Saol were the only way to get the answers she so desired. Yes, my companion had definitely taken an interest in little Aoife.

The girl in question, oblivious as she was to the entities invested in her everyday doings, seemed determined as ever to drain my everlasting patience. Why, the lass was incredibly susceptible to distraction—any and every non-human, crossing her path or otherwise, was deemed worthy of close inspection. Her tardy white gown, presumably something that was once a powdered blue, had stray twigs scattered close to the waistline; the wildflower that she spent a good three minutes staring at, she took with her. All in all, it took us no less than half an hour to finally arrive at the baker's when it should have taken just about fifteen. In all fairness, the things she wandered after had become scarce these days, but even so, she must have been heavily distracted even after she entered the shop if the man at the counter escaped her notice. She headed straight to her spot on the bench by the counter while the man attended to the customers. It was only when she rose to go talk to him that she realised he was far too young and rather tall to be Oisín. Well, it can't hurt to talk.

She had barely reached the counter where he was still settling accounts from purchases when he turned to look at her. The sound had startled him, and the set of his eyebrows gave away his displeasure at having missed the 'intruder'. When he spoke, though, his voice was not unkind.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," she said, getting on her toes to take a peek at the ledgers. "Is uncail Oisín away?"

"Yes. He should be back any time now. Why, was he expecting you? Or maybe your mother or father, hmm?"

"Not really. I come by everyday, whenever I can."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said, smiling brightly as she remembered the times Oisín had insisted on it. That is when she realised who she was speaking too; it was hard to miss the resemblance the brothers bore. If he noticed her sudden discomfort as she walked to the door, though, he said nothing of it.

"Well then, I shall tell him when he comes back. What name do I give him?"

This time, her hesitance was clear as she looked up to give him an answer before she fled. "Aoife."

I watched the warmth bleed out of Aódhan's eyes and into dawning realisation as he watched her go, running into another girl just across the street. The two girls were still talking when I joined them. They must have just gotten their respective apologies out of the way, for they were still rubbing at their foreheads and elbows, faces a mild shade of pink.

"Do you go to the bakers' often? I haven't been there in a while..." The other girl trailed off, eyeing the small loaf of soda bread Aoife still held.

"Would you like some?" Aoife was already breaking off a part of the bread, palm upturned with an unsure offer.

"Thank you...Aoife, look, I'm sorry about the other day. Ma always says that we'll get cursed too if I talk to you. And everyone else was being mean too, so..."

"But why would you get cursed?"The girl looked offended, rightfully so.

"No idea. But I didn't, did I? We were always saying things to you, even about you, most times, not keeping away like we were told to. I think, if you wanted to curse us, you would have done it when we started being mean to you. Yes, bad things are happening, but they are happening to everyone. It's... it's not because of you, is it?" The girl was looking at Aoife curiously, confused and ashamed all at once.

"No! I didn't do anything!"

"He said the same thing too. I asked ma, but she just gave out to me, again."

Aoife looked up, swallowing the bread she had bit into in a huff of anger. "He? Who said?"

"The baker's son. The younger one, methinks. Wait, you didn't go tattle?"

Aoife just shook her head. "No, he said he just saw. At least, that's what he told me when he came after me that day..."

"You know, 'tis why we all said sorry the day after. We like the treats there, and he said we wouldn't get any more if we kept being right maggots about all this."

"Oh. I don't know, Orla. Is that why no one wants to talk to me? Their ma tell them they'll be cursed?"

"Aye. But you seem nice. Would you like to come play with me tomorrow? Da lets us use the empty field."

Aoife considered the offer. She looked at the distant treeline once. The field wasn't too far from it. Besides, she could have a friend. There was still one thing to consider, though. "Won't your ma scold you for it?"

Orla grinned, leaning in to share what must surely be an important secret, should you ask the girl. "She be busy inside. There are no windows facing the field. She won't know!"

That did not not sound half as convincing as Orla thought it did, but Aoife nodded anyway."I'll have to tell my da, but ok."

When the two girls finally said their goodbyes and left for their respective homes, Aódhan turned away. With no customers around and Oisín still away, he had time to spare—time he spent stewing in his sense of betrayal. Of course that's where it had all gone, those wares unaccounted for. His temper only flared when his father walked in an hour later.

"A real tool, that Conor! He— Aódhan, lad, you alright there?"

The man was hunched over, his head held between his hands. He looked up, face carefully blank. "Does ma know?"

" 'Bout Conor? Escapes me, why?"

"About Aoife. Does she know you've been mingling with that family behind her back? Does Liam come around as often too?"

"About Aoife. Does she know you've been mingling with that family behind her back? Does Liam come around as often too?"

"I've seen neither face nor hide of Liam since the day, but Aoife? She's just a child," Oisín admonished. "Besides, she is family!"

"Family!" Aódhan's tone tread the fine line between incredulity and derision. "Being family didn't mean enough to him when he let aintín Aine die. He is no family of ours."

"And Aoife?"

Aódhan looked back at the cookie he'd had half a mind to offer the girl before she left– before he realised who she was. "She is still her father's daughter." He shook his head. "He made a right mess of things back then, and now he's done it again. I think times have nothing to do with the misfortunes that fall upon that family. She deserved better than him. They both do."

Oisín's brow had furrowed with every word, almost into his nose, but he heaved a long-suffering sigh at that. "Aye. You're not wrong. They deserve better."

"So what's Conor done now?"

I didn't stay to listen about whatever Conor had done to offend the baker. I am beyond such gossip, after all, and there were three more people to collect before sundown. Besides, I had enough to tell for the day.

The walk across town was the same as it had been these last two days. The same stillness, and the same stale air, disturbed by little save the cries of bereaved households. Not much seemed greatly amiss yet, I suppose, apart from the dead fields and emptier than usual pantries. There was some time for that yet–for word of sickness and the fear of it to spread. Business had not yet brought me to the heart of the village. Until then, children would yet roam untainted by the burdens of their elders. Indeed I could make out the figures of the few young boys from the other day, though they seemed to be missing one or two of their number. Another childhood come to an end, then, as it often does during such times.

My return to the glade was just as uneventful. What was meant to die on that path was gone already. Time wouldn't touch it till the time I left. At least, not visibly. The rains, after all, were just as they had always been, and few are the birds and rodents that feed on potatoes. Rarer still are mice and voles in a forest, especially one like mine. If there was any difference at all, it was perhaps in the fact that the river song rang louder than wails, and that when my companion returned, it was but to a few sniffles, and even then, with a face not as deeply lined with grief. A child she was again, and by the not so subtle looks she was giving me from the base of her tree, a very curious one.

"Tell me!" She said finally. The sombre mood had not yet lifted enough for her to get any closer, but her patience had worn thin.

"About what?" I asked, straight-faced. Should anyone ask, after all, I am not much for gossip.

"The girl! I know you watch her when you're in town. Tell me about her already!"

"Do I, hmm? I did have more to do today... oh, very well, I will tell you." And there she was, on her knees, leaning towards me with all the appearance of one listening to a tale from far-off lands. In a way, perhaps this was no different.

"You'll be happy to know she's made a friend her age. One of those I caught apologising to her yesterday, in fact."

"Well, how did that happen?" She lay on her stomach now, settled with her chin held in her palms that cupped either side of her face. "I can't imagine wanting to play with anyone who was being mean to me not even a day ago."

"To be fair, Aoife ran into her just outside the bakery. Maybe a knock on the head and the promise of sweet treats is all they needed to put their differences aside," I shrugged.

"Oh." She sounded deep in thought, her head cocked to the side. "That sounds a little silly. Speaking of the bakery though, did she meet the other one today?"

"Oh yes. Briefly, and it went more or less the same way."

"She ran home?"

I almost smiled at that. "She ran home. Matter of fact, that's when she ran into her new friend."

"Oh! She should have stayed though!" She whined. "How will she know if he likes her otherwise?"

Interesting question, given I'm fairly certain she would have done much the same, should she be faced with a similar conundrum. "Simple. She won't."

"Oh." A pout this time. "Do you think she'll go back again? She went back for the other one."

She went back because she wanted to see her uncle, would be the more accurate deduction, but it was a trivial correction to bother making.

"I guess you'll have to wait to find out."

"What do you mean wait," she asked then, pushing herself back up in haste. "Aren't you going back tomorrow?"

I looked back at her then. "Do you want me to?"

She sobered up rather quickly after that, the years catching up to her. However briefly she had forgotten, the thought of me being around anyone would never be a comfort.

"No, I suppose not."