"þegja."  Ronin grumbled at Bryn's retreating back playfully.  "Anyway, you lot, off with you.  I've other things to do."  She waved and walked away from the younglings in search of her half-siblings.

Rory was sitting underneath a tree, reading a book, his undead guardian by his side.  He had learned that his guardian was a warrior of another time, but had not made it into Valhalla.  Even if Sigmund - the undead - had not been there, he knew that no one would willingly approach him.