"Good." His answer might be a little blunt, but death is something Thor does not like to think much of these days. Not after the decimation of his people and the universe thereafter. He can't help it sometimes, of course.

The baby birds begin calling out again for food, drawing his attention. They care not who looms over them, only that they be fed and warm. Simple creatures, helpless and dependent, and Thor wonders what they may someday think of her in turn.