On the next day, he was surprised to presented with a box of deer jerky by Rágn, who thrust it at him unceremoniously while he lounged by the hearth.

" Pray Lady Hélna forgive me my trespass," he muttered, redfaced, and then scurried away quickly.

Sif didn't really understand why he had done so; it used to be that old woman sent him to apologize for speaking out of turn quite often, but that hadn't happened in a while. He shrugged it off as one of Rágn's unknowable moods, pleased that he had at least gotten a present out of it; he beckoned one of his cats over to share a piece of jerky with.

The younger grandson wandered through a moment later, peeking at Sif as he ate.

Sif flicked his ear, and then gestures for the boy to come closer. He gave him a piece of the jerky, and then sent him off.

His cat, at least, seemed to sympathize with him. She was old enough now that many of the other village strays were bothering her for company.

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