Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 3: Rain

It came down hard, having soaked through her clothes nearly an hour earlier, but still she kept at it. The tree was littered with holes, the knives held tightly in her hands as Sif pulled her arm back and let one of them fly. She swore under her breath, having missed the mark completely, sending the blade soaring off into the wet foliage. Planting the others with the blades down in the dirt, she wiped sweat and rain off her forehead and went after it. She gave one of the bushes a kick with a boot, thinking to herself that it couldn't have gone far. She'd seen it go just past the tree, through the bushes. It must have been buried in the dirt somewhere nearby.

Even through the pour of the rain, Sif flinched, a sound from behind having caught her by surprise. She turned, reaching for the knife that hung at her hip and drew it, eyes wide as a doe stepped through the trees, staring at her a moment before speeding off on its thin legs. Sif sighed, leaned back and allowed herself to fall into the mud. Being forced to stand on her toes all the time, there was never a moment when she was not on guard. And, at times, it became tiring.

The warrior woman made a face, sat up on her haunches and reached back behind her. In the wet dirt where she had let herself fall was the blade, and it had seen fit to stick her in the backside. Sif muttered to herself, not knowing how she could have missed seeing it. She tromped back through the grime and found her horse again, having settled itself beneath the wide branches of a pine tree. Sif gathered up what little she had brought along and loaded it onto the animal's back, taking the reins and leading it through the woods, gaze turning to the wide lake that sat along the east side of the palace.

As children, they would go swimming when it rained, try to jump off the balcony overlooking the water and end up being caught by servants and even the queen. There was a hill out by the fields and stables where they'd run, fall down and make a wet slide of grass that would drop them into the lake, call up to the others and see if they could come down faster. They would play on teams, take a ball and see how long they could keep it off the surface of the water, see who could balance it on the tip of a finger or hold their breath the longest. It had been their play place, and they had not used it in quite some time.

Sif's boots sank into the soft earth of the main trail and kept walking, remembering all the times they'd kicked rocks all the way to the palace steps, tried to see who could send theirs furthest. Of all their games, she had been the best at that, the best at climbing to the top of the trees and jumping to the adjacent one. Volstagg had, at one point, dared to challenge her, managed to get to the treetop first and jumped, missing the branch by a wide margin and coming to strike the ground and break his elbow. She was still ashamed, but Sif had secretly laughed once the others had gone.

"You'll catch cold," came a voice, and she smiled, turned to see Thor walking alongside her, his hand on the horse's muzzle. He carried a small pack with him, reached inside and offered up a towel. "You should dry off."

Sif laughed aloud, shaking her head. "It's already soaked through," she said. "Cloth will retain much more water than my hair will, you know."

Thor gave her a blank look, as though he hadn't thought to consider that. They walked a ways, mud sticking to their boots and being left behind as the road turned to stone beneath their feet. Thunder began to rage, and Sif had a mind to tell him that he might want to do something with that, try to quiet his mind. It seemed that the storms were more violent when Thor was eager or angry. And, as she could see by the way he looked back at the mountain, he was more than just impatient.

"You'll last," she said, following the winding pathway that would take them to the stables. "Two days have already passed us by now. I think you can manage two more."

He made a face, as though time was not moving quickly enough, and Sif wanted to tell him that, if he wasn't careful, life would pass him by, make changes that he wouldn't be pleased with. But she held her tongue and said nothing, simply smiled at his obvious discontentment.

"Do you think I'll win?"

The question caught Sif by surprise and she stopped, dropped the reins and turned to face him fully. "What?"

Wet hair stuck to his forehead as Thor's blue eyes narrowed slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek and pushed a heavy breath out his nose. "Do you think it was wise to make a wager with Loki?"

Sif nearly laughed in his face, but clapped a hand over her mouth. If they had learned one thing about Loki over the years, it was that his revenge was foul, and that he'd do anything to win a bet. Particularly with Thor. There had been one instance not three years back on Hogun's birthday where they had surprised the Grim with a dinner. Thor had set to challenging his brother to drinking a pitcher of ale amid the festivities, to which Loki had, surprisingly, complied. Sif had seen the lie on his lips, the spell on his silver tongue as he had quietly bewitched Thor's pitcher, forced the elder prince to drink from a container that never emptied. In the end, the thunderer had become violently ill and vomited across the floor from intoxication.

She had hoped that her friend would have learned from such an event.

The warrior said nothing, took the reins in her hand again and started walking. There was a slight incline that led up to the stables, the grass sticking to their boots as she handed the horse off to the stable boy, reached into her pouch and tossed him a bit of candy and leaving a smile on his face.

Thor took her by the arm then, led her over to the side of the stable and shook her.

"Do you think me foolish, Sif? Have I made a mistake?"

The look of urgency on his face was laughable, the knowledge that he hadn't thought things through suddenly dawning upon him. Sif smiled and touched his hand.

"Yes, you are foolish," she said with a smile. "And you've made a terrible mistake that will, undoubtedly, come back to haunt you. But you'll have fun with it. You always do."