It didn’t quite make the front page, but the abduction of a terminal cancer patient wasn’t completely buried either.

Nobody had managed to get an accurate description of the perpetrators.

Which all meant that we’d got away with it. Except there were her parents. I wished I could tell them. Without lying through my teeth in ways that made even a trickster’s daughter uncomfortable. I wished I could say something that would help them understand.

But they thought we were demons. I certainly wasn’t going to seek them out.

I wasn’t the one who would kill Surtur. And I was supposed to remember that Ragnarok was no true ending. Maybe that part was just to make me feel better. It didn’t seem enough.

Enough in exchange for losing her. But then it wasn’t like that, and I wasn’t even sure she’d left.

Not completely.

I sat curled on my futon and stared into space. Too much to think about, stuff I wanted to try and get straight in my mind before I talked to anyone about it.

Especially ravens.

At least they hadn’t done anything disgusting like pluck her eyes out. I was sure they were responsible for the disappearing body, though.

I was grateful for that.

Find allies in Jotunheim. I was sure that meant Angrboda.
And better weapons. I knew who was always there when Aesir got better weapons, too. Yeah, that would be my dad. He was the best negotiator, the best haggler.

I needed to talk to him. I liked the sword I had, the one Thruor had found for me, but if a Norn said it wasn’t enough, then it wasn’t enough.

So, maybe I needed to talk to my dad. And maybe I needed to think about…no.

She hadn’t mentioned the horn. I hadn’t needed it in forever. I figured it was probably time to give it back to Tyr.

And maybe he too might have an idea for a better weapon. I knew I didn’t want an axe or a hammer, mind. I wanted a sword. More elegant. Lighter, too. I might have all the strength I needed, but I…wasn’t the clodhopping type.

No offense to Thor. Mjolnir simply wasn’t my style.

I stretched. If I was going to talk to Tyr…would he be mad with me? He was always mad with my father, but…

I was going to give him the horn back. I found where I’d put it, carefully wrapped, and set out into the evening. I didn’t need it any more. It had been useful, but I’d kept it way too long.

Way too long.