So death came in the night, and lifted the old woman away.

Sif had been sleeping at her side, and was struck awake suddenly; he felt, rather than saw, the life leave her body. Her last breath was in her sleep.

It was expected, and unceremonious.

Not knowing what else to do, Sif got up and went down the hall, knocking every door, until the entire family was awake and gathered.

There was soft weeping, and tears streamed freely down Sif's face.

He had spent years together with the old woman; she was the one who had collected him after Helna's death and given him a reason to live, a goal to work towards.

What could he possibly do without her?

He had known from the moment he had met her that he shouldn't grow to care about her; everyone he cared for died. He should've stayed distant from her and closed his heart off from the start.

But he couldn't do such a thing. No one had ever taught him how.

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