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Bragi hadn't left her den much at all since the trip. Call it culture shock, she supposed. The dizzying, overwhelming realization that there was an entire world out there past the boundaries of their little island, where highly intelligent wolves and other creatures knew how to ferment fruits for wine and organize community events.

She'd been flirting with the notion for months — or maybe years; she still didn't know long she'd been here — but having it sink in all at once like that kinda made her want to cry. She was never going back, was she? Did she even want to? Were the few flashes of memory she'd managed to retain even worth hanging on to? Some were nice, but others felt like dying. Wouldn't it be easier to just forget? Forget all of it and just let herself get swept up in the roaring tide of this strange world.

She laid curled in a tight little ball, her tail draped over her face, and listened to the rain drum lightly against the roof of the little alcove she'd carved for herself. She could just forget. Could just close her eyes and sink into the abyss and never have to worry about anything anymore.

Her legs prickled, like they were waking up after having just gone numb. She felt it spread, until it'd engulfed her entire body. The soft pitterpatter of the rain outside grew softer, still. Distant. She could barely feel the fur and nettles and fresh moss beneath her. Her stomach lurched, sickeningly. She felt like she was floating.

She hoped, quietly, that she wouldn't come back.


But then there was something... wet, soaking into the fur of her back, and a pressure that wasn't there before.

With effort, Bragi managed to peel her eyes open. Groggy, disoriented, she turned blearily to look over her shoulder.

A pair of puppy blue eyes stared back at her.

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There was a puppy. In her bed. Staring at her.

Who's puppy? How did it get here? There were only two parents left on the entire island and they were hers, so where did this one come from? Why was it wet?

The puppy giggled and she flinched, jerking upright and wheeling wildly out of the den. It followed her intently with its eyes, but wouldn't come outside.

What was she... supposed to do? She couldn't leave it here, but she hadn't a clue who it belonged to. She had to do something, but who in the world would know what to do with a strange puppy?

...Oh.

Blinking the rain out of her eyes, her gaze glued to the kid, Bragi raised her voice and called tentatively into the rain, Uh... Cupid?

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---

No one had disappeared or died on the journey, so Cupid was counting it as a resounding success. He thrived on socialization - he'd been a purveyor of parties for much of his eons of existence in his previous life. As much as he'd enjoyed it, he was also glad to be home - where he knew his children were safe, and on familiar ground he didn't have to discover underpaw for the first time.

The wings were perched on his ribcage where he was curled comfortably inside his own den - the children having dispersed to their own hidey holes, some more than others. They were all still close, thankfully - within earshot specifically, which eased Cupid's concerns for them quite a bit. He knew it was morning, but he could hear the rain outside the warm den, and the wings were carefully arranging the feathers usually tucked in the fallen god's fur.

Bragi was still his quietest child, but she had begun coming out of her shell somewhat lately. Still, it was an utter shock to hear her voice ring out clearly in the bleary morning air - not to mention that she was calling for him.

The wings garbled out a protest as the man swung himself to his paws swiftly, slinking out of his den and moving toward Bragi's before he'd even really processed anything else. The rain had just begun to mist upon the longer hairs of his pelt when he arrived by the girl's den. Cupid decided panicking outwardly wasn't helpful, so he came to a halt and took in the scene through his senses. What's wrong? He asked, taking an assessing inhale of the petrichor-heavy air.

Bragi's scent, wreathed with the rest of the pack - at first, Cupid didn't smell anything off. Then, he realized the sweet puppy-smell on the air was not nostalgia for a simpler time, but very real and present now.

There was an infant in his daughter's den.

Cupid sat down, purely because his limbs simply stopped functioning properly. He was quiet for a long, tense moment. Bragi... Where the hell had she gotten it? She wasn't even a yearling yet. ....please tell me you have a good explanation for this.

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The kid wasn't going anywhere. Which, unfortunately, meant it was still there when she blinked, hoping it was just some sleep deprived apparition.

Uh, yeah. Cupid, she said, carefully enunciating the cherub's name. He's my... well. He'll know what to do with you. Probably. She glanced back, mercifully catching Cupid's pale, distant form approaching through the thin sheet of rain.

What's wrong, he said. God, where did she even begin? Uh, well, I don't know that it's a good explanation, per say, she murmured, fumblingly. It just... showed up. Yeah, that would hold up in court for sure. It was like that when I got there, Your Honor, I swear.

Jesus.

It looks really young. I don't know where it came from and I— I didn't know what else to do, she admitted helplessly.

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---

She didn't have much of an explanation at all. But there was no way she'd taken the child from some other wolf's side - they lived on a remote island and no one else here had any recent litters. Could it be an instance of Mythris' strange summoning powers at work again, something to do with Sindri's alarming involvement in some kind of prophecy? Cupid was quiet once again.

It seemed unlikely Bragi was the sort to do something nefarious. Or, rather, this specific type of nefarious, anyway. Cupid knew he'd failed in countless ways during the rearing of his children, but he did pride himself on imparting to his daughters what he hoped was a balance of subtle cunning, and compassion. A love for the wolves around them and an understanding of the cruelty they could inflict on one another.

The results were a double-edged sword, as evidenced in the case of Sindri lying to his face and scampering off into the wilderness.

Cupid's shoulders drooped slightly. You made the right call, calling me, Bragi. It'll be alright. Cupid hummed, attempting to reassure his daughter. It may be that the gods saw fit to send us a soul in need of shelter. The method of arrival was certainly strange, though. He lowered himself to the grass, sweeping his tail across it.

Hello, little one. The cherub cooed to the puppy, hoping to coax him closer so he could assess the child's health and age without frightening him.

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Cupid was good at that: reassuring people. She could feel the anxiety slipping, even as she stared at the puppy, wide-eyed and innocent, dripping rain water on her bed. The gods, huh? She felt the rush of bitterness in her throat, and released it with a sigh. No use getting angry with them, now. Unless the kid was raptured as well, he was here for the long haul.

Cupid cooed to the kid, but he only backed further into the den, his eyes flicking rapidly between them. It... reminded her a little of herself, when she first arrived. Though, she supposed anyone would be more than a little hesitant and probably scared suddenly waking up somewhere completely unfamiliar surrounded by strangers. She could relate, at least.

He backed away, she murmured, the corner of her lip tugging in a frown. She wouldn't be as good at this as Cupid was, but as one of the only working pair of eyes around here, it would have to do.

He's... damp, she began to describe, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes as she examined the kid. Like he came in from the rain. Well yeah, no shit. It wasn't like he had just popped into existence directly on top of her, though that had been what it'd felt like and certainly stranger things have happened.

Anyway. He's really small — not like baby-baby, it looks like he can walk pretty well — but probably around the age right before we all left the den. He's pretty skinny, too. He probably hasn't had a good meal in a while.

That... seemed like everything? Everything relevant, at least. She thought about describing the color of his fur, but. Was that important? Maybe later. After they got the kid dry and fed. She looked into his eyes, wide and blue and shining, and asked gently, You hungry, little guy?

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---

Bragi relayed the boy's movements. Cupid's heartstrings tugged at the idea of the sopping infant backed into the corner of the den. It, too, reminded him of his daughter. She'd found a bit more confidence in these later months, thankfully, but he remembered the early days - wondering if she'd even speak or leave the den, ever. Hm. He mused. The age of the puppy was difficult to estimate, but...Cupid felt concern. Was the child even old enough to be weaned? They had no nursing wolves in the territory, and if he was already malnourished he might survive the time it'd take to search for a suitable wetnurse.

He didn't hesitate to bring it up. He would shield his children from dangers that approached them, but the realities of life and death were not threats. Only facts, that must be reconciled with. He may be too young, Bragi. If he's not old enough to eat anything but milk... He murmured quietly, before shuffling back slightly as Bragi attempted to coax the child into replying. He would let her take point on this; she seemed to be doing well with the orphan, and he was delighted to see his daughter willing to take the little one under her wing.