For dinner, one of the chickens that had been given to him was butchered and made into soup, along with barley and chopped vegetables.

Sif had the trimmings brought from the kitchen, and fed the kittens he'd been gifted little bits of fat and meat as the old woman looked on.

" Lady Hélna, shall I have the cook save back scraps to feed to your kittens?" she asked.

Sif thought on this for a moment, and nodded. Many cats lazed about the village; the people here clearly knew how to feed them properly. It was strange to hear them referred to as his, though. He had not birthed them. They were gifts.

Once they had eaten, he took to his own food, watching as they played on the floor. They followed him naturally, perhaps because he also had the scent of a cat, but had been given run of the house.

The house was a family compound, Sif had learned, and held many people. There was the old woman, the bowing man, and the boy- then the boy's mother and siblings, and the old woman's children, who were the bowing man's siblings. Each of them also had a partner, and children.

Sif didn't feel like learning the names and faces of so many people; he only really saw the old woman and the bowing man around anyway. As long as they deferred to Helna and treated the kittens properly, he could accept them.

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