She rose, slightly unsteadily, and knelt by her door to examine the lock. She would have to leave the key in at all times for fear of anyone watching when she went to remove the diary. The lock was sturdy, as was the door frame, but if they really wanted to, a large buck like Timmot could probably bust it open.

She exhaled slowly, rubbing her skirt absentmindedly between two fingers.

Of course. Her skirt.

She pushed herself up, and went to her closet where her other dresses—all in the same tone of grey—hung. Retrieving some scissors and a needle and thread from a box in the closet she took out two of her dresses and began to cut a square piece of fabric out of one to make a pocket on the other that would not, she hoped, be noticeable. Genna could not steal it if it was on her constantly.

It was long past midnight before she finished the job, and her thoughts barely settled down during that time.

If she had not collected these secrets, this would not be forced upon her. The unpleasantness of it all was…undesirable, to say the least.

She was certain that Genna would not give up. Undoubtedly, she would be the center of their attentions.

It would be hard to avoid them, however. Especially if Lorena—

Her busy hands stilled for a moment.

Lorena.

What to do about her?

Depending on how desperate the Renthills were, Lorena could become caught in the crossfire and even threatened by them. That could not happen.

Not only was Lorena her sister, who she had to protect, she was too young to become mixed up in such a thing. She would not know how to navigate it.

Early tomorrow morning she would talk to Lorena. Both to admonish and warm her.

When she finally finished the pocket, she laid the dress out on the chair which hid the diary's cupboard, and got herself ready to sleep.

She didn't truly go to sleep for a long time, though, despite all of her best efforts.

The next morning when she woke, the room was perfectly silent. She didn't know why she'd expected anything different, but somehow she had.

She pushed herself out of bed and slipped on the dress she'd sewn a pocket into last night, and then removed the diary from it's hiding place. It fit into the pouch perfectly.

After smoothing her fur, she exited the room, locking it carefully behind her.

The hallways were empty and void of any movement. She walked briskly through them, fur prickling at the back of her neck. She should not be unnerved. It was nothing unusual for the halls to be quiet. Afterall, she was up earlier than most other rabbits.

But after her thoughts of the night, it felt eery and expectant of some sort of action. Bad action.

She reached Lorena's room door without incident and knocked sharply. "Lorena?"

She heard nothing from inside the room, and rapped again, slightly louder. "Lorena!"

Still nothing.

Fighting to keep her face looking like a perfect mask of calm, Breelia reached into her pocket and took out a spare key she carried—the spare key to Lorena's room. She didn't even know if Lorena knew she had it. Softly, she unlocked the door and stepped in, closing it behind her.

Lorena wasn't in the room. She was almost never up this early. Breelia frowned and turned to leave. The Mess Hall was the next place her sister would be—and knowing Lorena's appetite she was probably there—but it unnerved Breelia to not find her sister in her usual routines.

Once in the Mess Hall, she didn't see Lorena anywhere. She bit her lip hard. Where, where, where.

She turned to leave, but a firm hand on her arm made her pause.

Genna stood there, face tight. "Breelia. We just want to talk."

Breelia's eyes narrowed as she pulled away from the doe, the extra weight in her dress seeming very heavy suddenly. "And you have my answer." She turned and continued her path away before Genna could say anything more.

She hurried down various halls, to all of Lorena's favorite rooms.

She was nowhere.

After several more minutes, she ran into Devert, who was going the opposite direction as she.

He only gave her a cordial nod, but she stopped with the clear intention to speak to him.

"Devert."

"Miss Wilder." His face remained straight as he said the words, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Is there something I could assist you with?"

"Yes. I was hoping you'd seen my sister?"

After a moment he replied. "I have, actually. She was in the archery common with a buck visiting the citadel."

Breelia's lips pinched tighter. "Thank you." She made to hurry on, but Devbert continued to speak.

"Is something wrong?"

She gave him a tight smile. "I will tell you when it is time. Until then, please carry on."

He nodded, dipping his head slightly once more, and continuing on his path down the hallway.

She hurried on hers, her steps growing longer and faster. Lorena wasn't smart like she was. Lorena was artistic, optimistic, and with her head in a world of happiness and color. She didn't understand.

If the Renthills got her to tell them anything more about the diary, it would most certainly go poorly for Breelia, but they—especially Timmot—could also hurt Lorena as proof of what they could do if provoked.

Her heart hurt suddenly, just at the thought.

She would prevent that from happening. She had to.