" Lady Hélna, I've come to help you dress," the old woman said, entering the room. Weak light began to stream in through a back window as she opened the shutter.

Sif did not want to move. Sif did not want to do anything. The more he thought of how he had killed Helna and stolen her body, the more depressed he became.

Perhaps he was the ungrateful one. He had looked down on the people for making Helna weaker, knocking down trees in her valley and clearing the soil. Yet they still wept for her, made her food, and gave her a warm place to sleep.

What had he ever done for her?

He had dredged her body up and caused her to die.

But now that he was in this body, he couldn't let harm befall it. It was Helna's. She entrusted it to him, and entrusted these people to him.

The old woman once more tried to pull a dress over Sif, and this time, he resisted it a bit. It was fine when it was really Helna, she had chosen to begin wearing a dress when they began depicting her in one; but Sif knew that men dressed differently from women, had known so since he was young.

" Is something wrong?" the old woman asked him. " This is a different dress from yesterday, my lady."

Sif tried vaguely to gesture at his waist, holding his arms out, but she didn't seem to understand what he was asking for. His voice didn't work at all, either; he had given up hope on that matter.

" You want the waist drawn in?" the old woman asked.

He shook his head no, tried to think of how else he could show he wanted it shorter.

A boy opened the door, calling in through the crack.

" Grandmother, is Lady Hélna dressed yet? The people are anxious to see her!" his voice squeaked in.

A boy! Good enough. Perhaps if he gestured to his clothes, the old woman would understand what he wanted to wear?

Sif jumped from the bed and opened the door; a boy fell back from it with a surprised cry, and Sif grabbed him by the collar, gesturing at his clothes as emphatically as he could.

The old woman blinked dumbly at him, while the boy covered his face and began apologizing for reasons that Sif could not understand. While he understood that men and women dressed differently, he had never caught on to the fact that they only undressed in private; why would he notice such a thing? He had spent most of his time with Helna, who preferred being nude.

" I understand, I understand, Lady Hélna wants to wear a tunic!" the old woman said, at last, taking the child back from him. " I'll fetch one!"

She bustled out, the redfaced child in tow.

On his part, Sif felt quite accomplished.

<- .....->