At the sound of a rooster crowing, Frigga and Sif's expressions darkened further. Even their horses seemed to sense their riders' moods, quickening their pace as they kicked up black snow in every direction.
Yet Greatwood Daksu, who could keep pace with them on foot, remained utterly unfazed, his honest smile still on his face. His breath froze into frost upon his long brown beard, making him look rather comical.
"You truly are a warrior. Even in the face of Ragnarök, the destined end of us all, you remain so composed." The woods were too dense for riding, so the two women dismounted at the edge of the forest and continued on foot.
Sif could barely keep up with the man's stride. Running through black snow deep enough to cover her calves left her gasping for breath, yet the man had not shed a single drop of sweat.
The hulking man, as tall as a Half-Giant, smiled and revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth. Only then did the heavy smell of alcohol spread through the air.
"If you danced often, you could be like me too. You see, dancing can solve every problem. Nothing beats dancing."
Sif, who had been somewhat worried, was amused. What Asgardian men called dancing was nothing more than drinking around a bonfire, wrestling and fighting with their companions, then sleeping with women once night fell.
Over the past few centuries, whenever Loki wanted to take Thor and the Warriors Three off to do something bad, he would mysteriously claim they were sneaking off to Midgard to dance, while forbidding Sif from coming along.
Then, one time, she secretly followed them and saw exactly what they did: drinking, wrestling, and sleeping with women.
That day, Thor had played a multiplayer game with ten strong Scandinavian women.