Many things changed as the year bled on, the village becoming hackled by war. The rounds of blessing fields turned to blessing weapons, of armor. The men who had once soldiered for Calsar now taught the other men what they had learned, and Sif watched alongside them.

In short, he was discontent.

The woman Oébfinn made for good company; her wellbeing was equal to their promised alliance with Cwge, so she was guarded, and only let to roam when Sif stood beside her.

" Lord Hélna, shall I tell you a secret?" she asked one day, as he watched her wade in the creek, holding up her skirt. She shimmied her feet to chase the minnows around.

" What sort of secret?" he asked in turn, feeling a bit lazy.

" Far back in the wood behind the tíam's house, there is a bog," she said. " We cut peat from it our first winter. But the chieftain ordered us stop, as we caught sight of a birch stake. It has been forbidden to us since."

" That is interesting," Sif said. " I take it you would rather me keep it from the coven?"

" I don't know," she said, appearing troubled. " Caedwghe found that mortal hands cannot remove the stakes, and all of our spirits have gone. But if there is a chance that Lord Hélna could remove it..."

She trailed off, and splashed a little.

Her meaning was obvious. Sif's arrival had done much for his people, as grievous as it was for him emotionally, and he had seen wonder in her eyes when she beheld the riches of his land.

Somehow, he doubted that returning a god to life would be so easy; if there was one there, across the river, why had it not interfered already? Helna had fussed with the village just as much in spirit as Sif had done while possessing her physical body. It would be impossible to explain this to an outsider.

They played a little bit more; and then returned to the village before dark could set in, Sif guarding the woman with his cloak.

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