The older grandson was Rágn, and the younger was Rán. Sif had begrudged himself to learn their names as it had become too difficult to tell them apart otherwise.

He had already grown used to Rán's presence; the child was prone to squeak and run off when seeing him, but also saved back bits of his dinner to share with the cats, so Sif approved of him.

Rágn moving back into the house deeply aggrieved Sif, however. Too many things were changed, and Rágn himself did not treat Sif with the easy, casual admiration the other villagers did. Even the other soldiers brought Sif tribute now; why not this one?

The simple answer, Sif suspected, was that Rágn still refused to accept him as Lady Hélna. That much was fine, but he should be still be accepted as a god! It was annoying.

" Grandmother, why doesn't Lady Hélna go out to help Mother and Sister Edda with the laundry?" Rágn questioned one day.

" A god! Doing laundry! Go apologize, for she surely heard you!" the old woman scolded- and she was right, as Sif was on the roof of the breezeway sunning.

" Grandmother, why don't you have Lady Hélna tend the grain or mend the fences?" Rágn questioned one morning, a week or so after.

" A god! Working in the yard! Go apologize, for she surely head you!" the old woman scolded once again- once more correct, as Sif was in the kitchen hunting a mouse with one of his cats.

Seeing that his grandmother was fully recalcitrant, the man now went to questioning Sif, following him out as he went to wander.

" Where do you go after your so-called blessing?" he asked, keeping pace. Sif quickened his step a bit. " Do you do any work around the village at all, or do you just take tribute from the people?"

Sif flicked his ear in annoyance, trying to ignore him.

" When I helped Calsar to battle the tyrant Caedwghe, I did battle with magicians and evil spirits," the man continued arrogantly. " I don't know why such things would be out here, or what your intents may be, but if you are swindling the village, I won't let you off easily-"

All this time he had been crunching through the undergrowth so loudly and clumsily that half the small things in the brush were disturbed by him. Sif sensed ill intent among them, and turned quickly, pushing Rágn away and seizing upon the creature in the bushes.

" What are you doing-?!" Rágn exclaimed angrily, his voice catching when Sif stood, holding an angrily writhing viper.

Satisfied that he had sufficiently immobilized it so that it could not strike either of them, he killed it and stowed it in his bag to feed the cats later. As long as the head was cut off, they could eat the flesh.

Rágn's face was pale as he collected himself from the ground. He seemed to finally realize he was being a hindrance.

" Lady Hélna," he said, sounding a bit scared. " Are you alright? Did it bite you?"

Sif told him no, and then gestured for him to leave. He was pleased that the man actually did so, scurrying away quickly with a regretful look.

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