In the spring, one of Sif's cats had kittens, a bundle of three. He checked them over, finding them satisfactory, and congratulated his cat on a good job. He made a mental note to catch her an especially fat dove.

It was as he was wandering, looking for a suitable bird, that Rágn called for him, appearing from the wood.

" Lady Hélna," he called. " Come quickly, it's grandmother!"

A few birds were frightened by him, and burst from cover, but Sif paid them no mind. He went to Rágn's side quickly, and followed him back to the house.

Sif was terrified; what could have happened to the old woman? He didn't know what he would do if she was injured, or worse; she was the only one who he trusted to interpret his actions.

When he entered the room, the old woman was laid out on his blanket by the hearth, fussing with one of the healer women.

" I'm fine now, I'm fine now," she complained. " You young people worry too much- And ah, Rágn, look how you've terrified Lady Hélna!"

One of the women helped her to stand, and she came forward.

" Don't worry so for me, Lady Hélna," she said.

" But grandmother-" Rágn protested.

" It's just that cough getting me again," the old woman said strongly. " You know it's of no great harm."

Sif placed his hands upon her, and she did not feel any different than usual. Her life was weak, but she was old, and had always felt weak. While he worried, she put her hands on top of his.

" I thank Lady Hélna for her blessing," she said. " But I really am alright. Return to your godly matters, dear, and put me from your mind."

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