In which we go to a wedding reception.

I’m not sure this is an auspicious beginning to the day.

Another typical inn breakfast. It appears that everything on offer today is…yellow. And is that supposed to be an egg? What do you have to do to an egg to make it look like that?


The wedding is being held at a small church. Not this one, the one next to it. This one has a fence and notices all around it. The wall was just falling away from the rest of the building, and they’ve had to prop it up.


And before you ask, No, I did not do it. It was like that when we got here.

Well, that was not fair. I was not allowed to go to the actual ceremony. (The human female says I can’t be trusted in a house of worship. I don’t know why… I am a GOD, after all!) But Sigyn and I have been invited to the reception, which is being held in the parish hall. I’m given to understand that is a casual “country” reception–pit-roasted sausages in a spicy sauce, twangy local music, the bride and groom wearing pointy-toed boots. Interesting. The table decorations are small trees…


… which Sigyn has of course climbed. She will no doubt smell like rosemary for a week. (Which is not a bad thing.)

Rather than the traditional cake, the bride and groom have elected to serve multiple kinds of pie. I approve! Sigyn has chosen apple, while I am intrigued by this confection which includes nuts, butter, eggs, whiskey, and an alarming but delectable amount of sugar.


Oh, by Sleipnir’s monstrous farrier bill! The human female has scarfed down half our pies and now she is dancing. Eye bleach! I believe I need some eye bleach.

>|: [

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