Niamh quickly approached the fence, her teeth bared and face screwed up with fury. She launched herself over the posts and ran to stand over her sister protectively. Her eyes flash and her sharp canines make an appearance as she shouts at the man closest to her. 

“What did you do to Saoirse?!” She moved to position herself between both of the unknown men in the pasture as she noticed the second man approach slowly. 

Saoirse sat up and scooted herself out from underneath her sister's skirts, she gripped the grass below her in a fist as she tried desperately to get her breath back. She looked between the man and her sister as they shouted at each other. For a moment things go quiet and she watches as the man she helped earlier collapse into the grass. 

She rushed to her feet, ignoring the bruising pain in her ribs and she stumbled over to the injured stranger. She rolled him over, her now bruised ribs protested against the strain. The stranger was tall, and with all the clothing and armor he was wearing made him heavy. Saoirse wheezed as she slapped his cheeks trying to wake him. 

The amount of blood he lost earlier began to worry her, and the stress of her possibly poisoning must have finally taken its toll. His face was pale, and his breaths labored. She looked at the wounds on his side again, and the largest ones were still weeping blood with no signs of stopping. She doesn’t know when she started but Saoirses shouts alerted the other two and they stopped their bickering. 

“Callum!” Artair exclaimed and he quickly pushed Saoirse out of the way. With his strength Saoirse rolled across the grass about a foot. Niamh took the opportunity to run over to her. 

She pawed desperately at Saoirses’ face, looking her over and touching anywhere she might be hurt. Niamh opened her mouth and checked her teeth, pushed up her sleeves to check for developing bruises, and when she poked at her ribs Saoirse couldn’t help but flinch. Nothing was broken, that’s for sure, but it didn’t hurt any less at the moment. 

Niamh tried to pull Saoirse to her feet, but it proved to be a struggle for the comparatively slight woman. Saoirse laughed a little, and heaved herself up off the ground, still holding Niamhs hand. She is bent at the waist before her sister hauls her upright and throws her arm around her shoulder. Saoirses breath slowly returned to her, and now she was painfully aware of each breath she took. If she felt like this after being tackled, she can’t imagine how the man felt chasing her around earlier.

She looked at the two men, one laying amongst the grass and clover, and the other bent over his body inspecting the wound. Saoirse didn’t feel particularly interested in helping either of them, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if she knew she could have helped someone and they died. 

“Hey,” Saoirse called out, and her sister looked at her in warning. Like Niamh was suggesting that they leave them here to figure the situation out for themselves. But Saoirse continued on. 

“Follow us, our home isn’t far from here. I may not be the best with healing potions, but I can stitch up a wound better than anyone in my village.” She offered her help and Artair looked up at her suspiciously. 

He sat there a moment, seeming to weigh his options before nodding his head stiffly. Artair heaved Callum up onto his back and Saoirseextracated herself from Niamh and opened the gate she had tried to jump over earlier. They begin their walk back and the silence hangs heavily in the air between the fae. When they eventually reach the halfway mark, Saoirse clears her throat. 

“So, can I have your names? I’d like to know the name of the people who trespassed on my farm, and then attacked me.” She reaches out and runs her finger along a notch in a tree, one she made when she was younger as a landmark. 

She looks at the man trailing behind Niamh and herself, and he looks surprisingly contrite. She expected a little more bite from him, based on their earlier interaction. Niamh echoes Saoirses question with a harsh ‘yeah!’ But she quickly ducks behind Saoirse when the man shoots her a threatening look. 

“My name is Artair. The one on my back is Callum.” He replied, his tone short, but his glare faltered when Saoirse turned around and began to walk backwards through the trees. 

“Callum, huh? Isn’t that the name of the current Lord? It’s a bit of an uncommon name.” She tilts her head and ignores Niamh who protests behind her as Saoirse stepped on her toes. She noticed Artairs face froze for a moment, and he grunted in response instead of coming up with an explanation. 

Saoirse let it go, taking the information and reaction into the back of her mind. She turned back around and began to hum as she walked, hoping the distraction and the tune would lighten the mood a little. She catches a leaf or two when they fall from the trees above their heads, and tries to lift Niamhs spirits by tickling her neck with them. Eventually Niamh stopped glaring and let out a small laugh, and shoved her sisters’ shoulders. Saoirse laughed in response, feigning shock at her sisters ‘cruel’ actions. 

Saoirse continued to hum, and eventually her sister joined her. Niamh grabs her hand and swings their entwined fingers as they walk, forgetting about the two men behind them. Like if they tried hard enough to ignore them, they would disappear. Just as the sun disappears from the sky the cottage comes into view. Niamh gasps and breaks off into a sprint. 

“Dinner! I forgot to take it off the fire!” She shouts as she ducks through the round door of their home. 

Saoirse turned and looked at Artair when Niamh left, he was taking in their humble home. It wasn’t a small home, but it wasn’t a large one either. Niamh and Saoirse shared a bedroom, and they had two spare rooms on the second floor. The door to their root cellar stood on a hill behind the home, and their garden in the front was in constant bloom with fall vegetables and flowers. It was rustic, probably more so than he was used to. 

To Artairs credit, he didn’t wrinkle his nose in disgust, or scoff as he walked through the door. Not like other high fae who have come to visit their home. Saoirse moved a spinning wheel from its resting position near the dining table and motioned for Artair to drop his friend onto it. He followed her unspoken orders obediently, and unceremoniously dropped his friend onto the table. Callum groaned as his head hit the wood, but he didn’t wake. 

“I don’t think that’s going to help him any. He’s already half dead.” Saoirse declares, eyeing Artair incredulously. 

“He deserves it, he got too cocky. That’s why he’s hurt in the first place.” Artair grunted with a frown, before stepping back and standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. 

He didn’t fit. Much like his shifted form Artair was tall, amazingly tall. His broad shoulders hunched to make sure his head didn’t hit the ceiling. His dark braided hair hung over his shoulder, and his leather armor was in immaculate condition. In short he looked silly standing in the middle of the common room. 

Saoirse pulled out a chair and swung it in his direction. It hit the ground at his feet with a thud. 

“Go on and have a seat, I’m going to go get the first aid kit.” Saoirse said as she disappeared through a door. She passed by the kitchen and judging by the smell, dinner was safe. She stopped for a moment and went back, peeking her head through the door into the kitchen. 

“Niamh, is there enough to share with our guests?” Saoirse asked and Niamh looked up at her and frowned. 

“I guess, I was hoping to have leftovers tomorrow.” Niamh replied, cutting into a loaf of bread with more force than necessary, and pouring the lamb stew into bowls. She frowned and looked at Saoirse who gave her a look. 

“Behave. Bring that out and I’ll be right in.” Saoirse said lightly as she moved away from the doorway. 

She entered the bathroom and opened the vanity drawers, pulling out a large bag. It smelled of herbs and medicine. She rummaged around, pulling out sachets of various ‘potions’ and found her suture kit. She grabbed a sachet from a bag clumsily labeled ‘for numbing’ and left the bathroom after putting the bag back in the drawer. 

She entered back into the common room and saw Artair holding a bowl in his palm, though it doesn’t look like he’s eaten anything from it. 

“Niamh makes good food, the bread is fresh today too, so enjoy it.” Saoirse says as she passes him. 

Artair looks up, startled as she passes him by. He took a bite of the food, and quickly dipped the bread in his stew. He watched Saoirse as he chewed slowly. She put a sachet into a ceramic cup, and poured a little water on it. Slowly a paste begins to form at the bottom of the cup. She began to undress Callum, but struggled trying to remove his shirt. She settled with shoving it up underneath his armpits. 

“I’ve got a numbing paste here,” she announced, feeling Artair staring at her back. She picked up the cup and brought it over to him and rubbed it on her own arm. “He’s not awake, but I doubt he’s not in pain. This should help.” She held it out, offering for him to try it himself. 

Artair put down his food on the floor, and removed his gloves and bracers, taking the cup and shoving a finger into it before rubbing the paste onto his own arm. He nodded when he felt the light tingle of the medicine taking effect. Saoirse snatched the cup back from his hand before he could comment on the smell, or the consistency, like Callum had. She went back to the table, resting the cup between Callums head and shoulder. 

She slathered the paste on his open wounds and double checked her thread and needle. Once she’s ready she began to stitch. 

“Where’s Niamh?” She asked, tying a knot before starting another stitch.

“She took her food outside. She said we smell and it was ruining her appetite.” Artair answered with a scoff. Saoirse sighed. 

“I see. I told her to be nice, but she’s pretty mad about what you did in the pasture.” Saoirse replied as she moved a candle closer to her work space. “She’s pretty sensitive when it comes to family. But she’s fairly harmless, so don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried about her, she couldn’t touch me if she tried.” Artair announced arrogantly before he spooned more stew into his mouth. “I’m more surprised you’re not just as angry. You were the one being apprehended.” Artair muttered, looking at Saoirses’ back hesitantly.

“I am mad, though?” Saoirse replied, her face pulled into a confused expression, though she didn’t turn around when she said it. 

Of course she was mad, but she learned early on in life that showing her anger to those above her rarely got the results she wanted. A fantastic example of that was the altercation in the pasture earlier. All it got her was bruised ribs and nearly scalped. Artair grunts behind her.

“I…… apologize.” It sounded like he was being strangled, like he was in pain having to apologize to someone lower than him. Saoirse rolled her eyes and didn’t respond, it’s not like she asked him to apologize. She didn’t expect one. Typical high fae.

She let silence stretch and fill the space between them as she worked. She can tell Artair wants her to forgive him, but she wasn’t in a forgiving mood. Far from it, in fact. Her sore neck and scalp were enough to ruin any sympathy she had for the duo, not to mention the large bruise she could feel forming on her rib cage. She was only doing them this courtesy for her own conscience, and in the hopes they wouldn’t come back with guards to arrest her and her sister. 

Niamh had entered the house at some point in the middle of her work, giving her a kiss on the head as she passed by with her dishes. Saoirse turned her head and asked Niamh to show their guest to the bath and give him fresh clothes. Niamh has been uncharacteristically quiet this evening. She would usually be singing as she worked, or chatting loudly about anything that might have happened in town. But she barely made a sound after she came back inside. Though Saoirse can tell it’s out of irritation and discomfort rather than shyness. Though their companions are nothing to sniff at in terms of looks, their credibility had been shattered in Niamhs’ eyes when she found them standing over Saoirse. 

 She quietly finished up the stitching, tying up the last knot and let out a sigh. Just as the sigh left her mouth, Artair reappeared and mumbled a ‘thank you’ as he looked over her shoulder at her handiwork. He was freshly bathed, and his hair was still wet and dripping on the floor.

“It’s not much, and nothing compared to an actual doctor, but it should get him home.” She replied as she quickly  packed the needle and thread back into their pouch. She stepped away from the towering figure and rushed back to the bathroom to put her supplies away. When she returned Artair was sitting in the same chair she had given him earlier, very much looking like a scolded child. 

“If you leave your dirty clothes in the hamper over there, Niamh will wash them when she gets up in the morning. The same goes for your friend, once you change him.” She stretched out her back and winced as her ribs protested. She was  trying to usher the men away so she could actually relax. She didn't really want to sit around the fire sharing stories with tall, dark, and handsome while his friend groaned on the dining table. 

“Are you-“ Artair began to ask, but he was quickly cut off by Saoirse. 

“I’ll show you to a room upstairs. Could you carry Callum?” She asked. Artair looked at her, eyes wide and mouth still open when she interrupted him. Niamh looked up from her work, knitting a shawl for the chilly mornings, and huffed loudly. Saoirse gave her a look that said ‘we’ll talk later.’ 

“Sure.” Artair finally replied, as he stood up and slung his fiend onto his back again. 

Saoirse showed Artair to the guest rooms on the second floor, and brought him a tub with water to wash up his friend. She wished him goodnight, and moved towards the stairs. She caught his eye as he closed the door, and he looked down quickly. Saoirse shrugged and continued her descent down the creaking stairs.