"What?" Unlike her, I never know when someone is going to die. Even with her, it may be hours, days, or even months, unless they saw her, in which case, it wouldn't be over a day or two. With me, however, the time to our next meeting is never of consequence, and of course, everyone and everything must meet me before the end. Even so, the girl yet looked hale, if a little underfed, last I saw her. Admittedly, it was months ago, but even so, this was unexpected.

"She heard me." This time, it was an accusation loud and clear.

"You cannot be certain?"

"I saw her when I was out today...crying. That's when she heard me."

It's not that I didn't trust my companion, but you must admit, in a town where so many people are in some form of mourning or the other, it would have been hard to tell who the girl heard for certain. "But she could have heard anyone cry."

"No! I am sure, why won't you trust me?" She sighed. "I was the only one around apart from those kids. And she followed in my general direction. She even asked her friends if they heard, but they didn't. Not one of them, and there were three."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Not that I could truly mean it when her death is inevitable, as is everyone's, but I did mean to offer what little comfort I could. I'm not all that certain I succeeded. Perhaps you could ask her, and maybe she will deign to tell.

"You spoke of guardian angels. What use is an angel if she's dead?"

"You speak although she is dead already; she is not."

"But she will be! We should have left her alone. You should have left her alone." It was entirely possible this did not portend the girl's death, but I attempted to offer her a hug nonetheless, hoping it might comfort her as it had a few days prior; she turned away. The silence engulfed us once more; for a while, it was clear she had nothing more to say, and that she would listen to nothing I said either. Nightmares are hardly anything of consequence to the dead when their entire existence was the substance of one, but both of us greeted the morning with a lighter heart nonetheless, and it was nearly dawn when she spoke again. "I thought about what you said... about Aoife and guardian angels. Do you think I should talk to her?"

"I will not point you either way, child, but do you remember what we spoke of when you first came with me?" Children like my companion, or more accurately, the ones who die young but play a role like mine thereafter, are not ones I take into my service out of cruelty or boredom; I offer them a choice, one far kinder than the circumstances that led them to me.

"To speak the truth, not really. The years are a haze, as you well know. I do not know if I would prefer it otherwise. What is it you refer to?" A little wren fluttered its way past us, trilling a merry tune.

"You wished to warn the others, should the time of their death draw near, so they may find the closure you wished for yourself." The alternative, of course, was a peaceful rest before another life, if they chose to have one. You would think that a peaceful rest would be the best choice, though perhaps some may call the former the more noble of the two. I, though, can tell you this choice is made more often from gut-wrenching pain and anger; nobility is hardly the foremost thought when one is dying. After all, I bring the inevitability of truth, and few indeed are of noble make in this world.

"It might have been easier had I not, but that was a promise, wasn't it?" She looked back at me ruefully.

"It was," I said. "But holding a conversation was never a part of the deal. Your wail is considered warning enough, as it has been for all those before you, and so it will be for those that follow. Should you choose to speak, however, I will not stop you."

"No, you will not," she agreed. "You never have, but will you encourage it?"

Anyone else, and I would have asked her what answer she expected of me. Not my companion, though. I encouraged her to take an interest in Aoife. To turn her away now would be folly indeed. "I do."

"Even after our meddling has caused her to hear me once already?" We were already halfway to Saol; my companion only needed to believe what we already knew.

"You know as well as I that our being there did not cause anything, child. Aoife has always been meant to hear you, though neither of us expected it to happen as quickly as it did. Come now, let us see what your little friend is up to."

We found Aoife with her little group of friends–two girls, and a boy. She watched, her face still flushed from exertion and glistening with sweat, as the others played a game of catch.

"Hello," my companion began, her fingers playing with the edges of her blood-red hair, glowing eyes trained at her feet. I watched, leaning against a small shop. My companion was right; Aoife's reaction was almost instantaneous. "Hi," she grinned, still looking around for whoever had greeted her. She frowned slightly, finding no one. My companion looked back at me; I nodded. "Don't look for me, please," she said. "I don't think the others can hear me."

"Oh. Hey!" Aoife called to her friends, who were still chasing after the boy. My companion quickly moved to shush her, trying to grab her shoulder in vain.

"No," she said, quickly shaking her head, just as one of the girls complained "Aoife! We almost had him!"

"Sorry!" Aoife yelled back. "I thought..."

The children resumed their game without further thought, just as my companion spoke again. "It's alright. I did not come to play. Can I walk home with you?"

Aoife looked back at her friends who were bent double, laughing, wheezing, and hands braced against their knees as they caught their breath. They seemed to be in the midst of a discussion. "Sure, I guess. I'm going home now," she called to her three friends, who responded with their own goodbyes and a reminder to come back to play ball after lunch. "So," she said, looking back towards the shop with her hands on her hips. "Are you going to come out now?"

"I am not hiding. You just cannot see me," my companion said in a matter-of-fact manner.

Aoife frowned, crossing her arms. "Are you one of the faerie folk that cousin Nolan warned me about?"

"If I was, would you still let me walk with you?"

"But why?" she asked, eyes searching our general direction. "What do you want?" A passerby gave her an odd look, before shaking his head and walking away. "Fine," she said. "I will come with you, but only if you answer me."

"Thank you," my companion said softly.

We walked back in silence, for the most part. My companion was busy thinking of what to say, while Aoife looked thoughtful, suspicious, and wary all at once. For my part, I was content to follow; a mere observer, and nothing more. It was thus something of a surprise when she walked straight past her home. Still, we followed, not a word spoken until she stopped at the edge of our forest. For a long moment, she waited. "Is it dangerous in there?" she asked.

"Yes," my companion said. "But you are safe with..." Us, she meant. "Me."

The girl nodded once, straightened herself, and continued walking, eyes never straying from the 'path', until we reached the very clearing where we'd first seen her.

"What do you want?" She asked, facing the river.

"I want you to be well," my companion said, "But if you mean to ask why I came to you, it was to deliver a warning."

"Oh! I am sorry about coming here. Da told me faeries aren't real. I didn't mean to intrude. I can leave now. Cousin Nolan made me promise I wouldn't come back anyway," she rushed out, turning to face my companion.

"Aoife," my companion said slowly. "Do you know what I am?"

The girl frowned, tilting her head in confusion. "You said you were of the faerie folk. Are you not?"

"I am. But there are different kinds among us. What do you know about us?"

Aoife sat down, dipping the edges of her fingers in the Shannon. "Da told me about some. Some of the stories he tells me are about leprechauns and púcas, but he says faeries are not real... but I suppose he was wrong. My friends speak of banshees and dullahans too, but those are scarier. Are they real too?" She asked, looking up.

I was unsure if I should have been amused, concerned, or filled with pity for my companion, who had agreed to answer the girl's questions. By Aoife's own admission, she found banshees to be scary beings, and there was no telling how she would take the revelation my companion no doubt intended to make. It seemed quite unlikely that she would run away after having walked into these woods herself, but it was entirely possible that she would become upset or angry, something that would likely set off my companion as well.

"We are. Do you fear us?"

"Yes."

"Good," my companion said gravely.

"You said we?" Aoife asked.

"You asked me what I am. I am one you call the banshee. Do you understand what this means? That you can hear me?"

"I do not," the girl admitted. "Da never talks about them... or you, I suppose, and the others were loath to speak of it. I don't think they know much either, but I did not ask."

"Aoife," my companion said gently, "To hear me only means one thing." There was a sorrowful note in her voice, no doubt bracing herself to tell the girl she believed her time was up. "Someone in your household will not be of this world for much longer."

My companion looked back at me, eyes wide; I shook my head. It wasn't until she'd spoken that she realised there was a chance Aoife would live to adulthood after all. It did not help that the girl would be distraught either way, but I suppose it would have been a small relief. Alas, such hope was not mine to give.

"No, that can't be true. Da says it isn't real. You must be mistaken!"

"I truly wish I was, Aoife, but I am not."

"Is it because I came here even though I wasn't supposed to? I said I was sorry!" She pleaded. "Can't you forgive me just this once? I promise I won't come back!" She was almost on the verge of tears now.

I could almost hear my companion's heart shatter at the guilt and anguish in Aoife's voice.

"No, Aoife. I did not come to warn you away from this place, or to punish you because you came here. You may come here as often as you like if I am around, though I understand if you never wish to. I came to tell you what I wished someone had told me before my time was up. Tell your friends and family you love them. Make the confessions you haven't had the heart to make. Spend your days to the fullest. Time is ticking, Aoife. Have no doubt about it, for as much as I wish otherwise, this is the truth: to hear me is to hear death."