There was a violent tempest, the valley flooding; its people bade assistance, praying endlessly to the weakened Helna, and she in turn struggled, battering her body against the rain.

" Sif," she implored, " you must save the people."

He wondered what good the people even were; they were the reason she was sick, and they still begged her for more.

" Sif," she implored, " Go to the bog; in the center, there, wrest free that single stake of birch."

Sif jumped down from her, and bounded across the valley, becoming soaked; but he did not sink into the mud, nor the peat, nor even the water. She kept his paws dry as she did her own when she danced.

In the bog, dark trees rising like skeletons from the primordial depths, he saw the birch stake. He had seen it before, and knew it well, for it was the only trace of birch in entire valley.

But he did not stop to question what he was doing; he was afraid that his master Helna would drown, trying to save her ungrateful humans, and so he took the stick in his mouth, teeth digging into it, and used all his strength to yank at it, claws digging into the bog's surface.

He pulled, pulled some more; became afraid it was all for naught, that Helna would die terribly as his first master did, that the humans would drown, that he'd be left alone again. He felt his teeth crack with the effort.

And at last he was suddenly bowled over, the stake snapping free.

Something floated to the surface, the peat parting as though giving birth to it.

It was the body of his master-

Leathered, skeletal, the hair red, the painted flowers-

And in the next moment, it was coming to life, becoming supple, as Helna herself sank into it, and made it her own again.

" Thank you, Relnsif!" she cried.

With one wave of her hand, the rain stopped; with another, the sky became blue. She jumped and floated through the air and laughed, and Relnsif found he could fly with her, and they glided all over the valley, with her waving her arms, making buildings whole out of wreckage, twirling around as she pulled her people out of the mud, healed their broken bodies, laughing even as the people held each other and wept.

Warm air breezed through the sky, Helna darted back and forth like a bird. Under the brightly shining sun, it seemed there had been no flood at all, that there had been no tragedy at all; and he was really, truly happy, up in the skies with his Helna.

But as the day turned to night, she slowed.

She stopped in front of the full moon as it rose, and she picked Sif out of the air like he was a kitten. She held him out, regarding him fondly.

" Sif, you are a very special cat," she said. "You are really the best I've ever met."

He tipped his head at her, not understanding.

She smiled serenely at him.

" You have a name now, and people to protect," she said. " Not only did you become my companion, saving me from loneliness, you freed me from the ritual that bound me to the land. For this, I will give you that reward I promised so many years ago."

He did not understand, and there was something in her voice that was so tender it spoke to him only of finality.

He knew this feeling.

He knew she was going to die.

And he wanted to protest it, but he was just a little cat; he could do nothing but mew at her pitifully.

" Perhaps we shall teach you to speak next...?" she said, her voice growing ever softer.

She wrapped her arms around Sif in an embrace, slowly falling down, and he found himself in darkness once more.

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