The Sting of Denial

                                    

                                          
(artwork by teabirdy.tumblr.com)
                          


                          
Tell me again what I am supposed to be?" Sif asked the rustling leaves just above her.
                          
"You're a stag going to the river for a drink," whispered Ollerus. Sif nodded, a little uncertain.
                          
A  hunting game had led mother and son deep into Glasir Forest. Ollerus  had spent all morning showing off how stealthily he could travel by  tree, leaping from branch to branch, and now he was desperate to  demonstrate his skill with the bow and arrow.
                          
"You're not going to shoot me are you?" Sif reached for her shield.
                          
"Don't worry, Mother. These aren't actual hunting arrows. They only hurt a little."
                          
That wasn't very reassuring but Sif could weather a little sting on her son's behalf. He was always worth it.
                          
She  made antlers with her hands and ambled down to the river, even grunted a  couple of times to really feel the role. Thor and the warriors would  piss themselves laughing if they saw her.
                          
Sif's thoughts barely  began to picture how she could beat those grins from her battle mates'  faces before a sharp pain erupted on her backside. She yelped and  cursed. She then twisted around to see an arrow stuck with sap to her  left cheek.
                          
"Got you!" Ollerus dropped from the branch and proudly  slung his handcrafted yew bow over his shoulder. "Tonight I will feast  like a king."
                          
"A king?" Sif plucked the arrow from her rear.  "Surely you will feast only as a noble. My rump is not that meaty!" She  twisted more to inspect her body, nose crinkling at the sap still  clinging to her pants.
                          
"Whatever." Ollerus shook his head as he took his arrow back. "So, what do you think? I got good aim right?"
                          
"I  think," Sif fussed over her stained clothing a little more but still  flashed her boy an impressed smile, "the Valkyrie's had better keep a  close watch on Glasir's stag population." Ollerus smiled, satisfied with  the praise. "Now," Sif clapped him on the shoulder, "how about we break  for some lunch. Eir's students are learning how to cook with magic  today, so the food should be interesting at least."
                          
The boy's eyes  lit up. "That's right I forgot!" He sprang back into the tree. "Race me  back. I'll bet I—" Ollerus whipped his head in the direction of the  river, distracted by something. Sif followed his gaze but neither saw or  heard anything. Ollerus then shrugged and leapt into a neighboring  tree. "Bet I can beat you without even touching the ground."
                          
"I  sincerely doubt that," Sif challenged. "But how about next time? I need  to wash this sap off then I'll be right behind you." The boy was already  gone, leaves falling in his wake. Sif smiled proudly as she knelt at  the river to scrub her clothes clean, a task that was quickly proving to  be a futile with water alone.
                          
"You'll never get it off that way,"  came a familiar silken voice, accompanied by a swirl of green magic  that lifted the sap from her pants. Sif gasped. A long figure then  materialized in the river's reflection and Sif sprung to her feet,  instinctively reaching for her sword. However, she did not draw it upon  closer inspection of the figure's appearance.
                          
Loki stood before  her at the river's edge, cloaking spell dissipating from his body which  was absent of his protective leathers. His thin tunic draped freely from  his thin shoulders, collarbone peeking out at the loose neckline. To  the untrained eye, he appeared harmless but Sif knew exactly how many  blades could be hidden in his clothing. Plus, he was always armed with  magic. She kept her hand hovering over the hilt of her sword.
                          
"You  should not be here," Sif warned, her heart racing. She wasn't sure what  to expect but she also wasn't too surprised to see him.
                          
Loki  snorted dismissively. He cast a glance in the direction Ollerus had gone  and forced a smile. "What an impressive youth..." He turned to look at  Sif again. "And how lucky he was to inherit your golden locks."