But through the spring, even as the weather warmed, the old woman grew weaker.

Sif knew there was nothing he could do for her, as limited as his power was; she was old, already, and it wasn't as if he could keep her alive forever just because he liked her.

He still felt terrible about it, eating less and sleeping more, staying inside to be near her instead of greeting the unfurling forest. The other members of the household noticed his change, and seemed to understand.

The coven, who often shied away from Sif in fear of somehow offending him, now came to him, wringing his hands.

" Lady Hélna, oh honorable one, I know you have favored my mother," he whinged. " When she passes, shall I appoint my daughter as your next aide-?"

Sif gave him a hard look, a bit angry that he had been reminded of her infirmity, and he backed off.

" Forgive me my trespass," he sputtered, hastily leaving.

The kitchen became quiet again; it was just Sif and a few of his cats.

<- .....->