Sun Mote Copse It's called a lance, hello!

Niamh shrugged when Phox mentioned her parents. She'd failed, until that point, to see things from their point of view- and as Phox assumed, Niamh had not asked permission to leave. She and Ambrose had set out together though, so it was obviously a matter of them wanting to be on their own, rather than a child being abducted, as Nellie might have been. She frowned. At least she'd had a partner, and they hadn't left so close to winter time, either. All she could do was hope that Nellie had found somewhere to live that was safe, and far from the famine. 

She couldn't help but roll her eyes when he made an honest attempt to make her feel better- but it fell flat. "I'm a basket-case widow who couldn't even keep track of just two kids, who has triggers out the wazoo and no fuse." She said. "But it wasn't their fault. I think I just kinda was born to be like this." She admitted. Her parents hadn't been absent, nor had they bickered or deserved any sort of resentment. "Maybe it's all futile anyway, if perfect parents can have such imperfect children."