It’s a far more satisfying task for Vidar to have a knowledgeable person along to help, letting him return home with a pack full of plants whose uses are known instead of dozens upon dozens that would require extensive testing or research to understand. As they search, and uncover more and more useful herbs, the downcast air around the Asgardian lightens a bit, and he smiles a little when she shows him the chamomile. “Where one grows, so do many,” he agrees, using his knife to carefully cut some of the stems. “I will remember this spot when it comes time for seeds to spread.”

Though now that he is thinking of seeds, perhaps it’d be wise to stop at the greenhouse on the way into the village, to see if there are any herbs among them. The little glass-walled building is newly built, set quite near the road as it enters the main island, its panes fogged with moisture. Inside, rich dark earth blooms green with potato plants and onion greens, and beanstalks climbing chicken wire frames. More seedling crops are too young yet to be identified at a glance, just barely poking up from the soil, and in the center of it all, Thor is kneeling with his eye closed, his real hand buried in the dirt. He doesn’t seem to notice that he is no longer alone, at first.