Sindri's small chest heaved with each labored breath, but she perked as she was acknowledged by one of the strangers, urging her paws to carry her forward. Everyone seemed.... riled, stirring like a hive of bees, unsure what was happening or what to do. Many of them smelled the same, as if they must've been packmates, but it was clear this was just a congregation of those who didn't know why they were here. The bold little godling was not so cowed by the unknown, not even with uncertainty tucked against her heart. She forged onwards until a scent stalled her from joining the others -- no, it couldn't be, wouldn't be?
But it was. Tyr himself was bearing down on her as she glanced over her shoulder, and with one strong paw he spun her 'round to.... hug her?
She didn't expect him at all, but now that he was here, she would've expected .... anger, questions, 'do you know how worried your father has been' sort of scolding. The sharp tongue of a teacher, the disappointment of a leader. And though she was sure she'd be faced with it all, Sindri was touched that his first instinct was that of that of parental panic. Some jealous wave of spite reared it's head and insisted Cupid was all she needed, all she'd ever needed, all she ever HAD, and Sindri was stiff at first as Tyr embraced her.
But nobody had ever been worried for her, other than Cupid. Certainly not Loki, even before he'd been gone. Nobody but Cupid had held her like this, had offered such sweet words, had openly displayed a connection she suddenly felt bad for snubbing.

Was this what it was like, having two parents? Her heart ached harder.

I'm okay, she offered in comfort, thawing to return the embrace, I thought it'd be closer.

She knew she had to admit why she was out here. Maybe it would assuage their wrath, but mostly, she hoped it would put Tyr and Cupids hearts at ease. Truly, she'd never meant to worry anyone; she didn't think she'd needed a babysitter for what was supposed to have been a quick trip. Just, y'know, to the mountain in the distance.

I'm sorry. I was... called. Called to help.

Who? Why? With what? She didn't know that part yet, and she hung her head guiltily.

It was then she noticed the snow. She furrowed her brows and leaned down to sniff it, but didn't dare lap at it as she might a fresh drift. She sneezed instead, confused, panting, and turned her charcoal gaze upwards to the king. But he looked puzzled as well, and she wasn't sure he had an answer.

Then, a voice. No -- the voice, the one from her dream. She heard him, offering instruction, and Sindri stood from the hug to peer into the cave with a soft Do you hear it? before plunging into the cave to find what was in store. She had come this far, and no spark of connection or fear of anger from Tyr would halt Sindri in her mission. She wove into the depths unflinchingly, and when there came a fork, it was only the divine drive that kept her from delving into the comfort of the nothingness.
But Sindri made it to the cavern, stalking forward with head low tongue lolling and tail flagged, unsure, but confident, driving head-first into her mission with all her heart and admiring the runes glow as more instructions filtered into her mind.

'Reach safety so I may come to you tonight. Do not fall victim to the tunnel’s pull.'

She stood and waited, too, hoping for some other word, more instruction -- but it seemed none would come, for the moment. Like many others, she turned to leave, blinking rapidly to bring herself back to her senses and turning to see if Tyr had followed, if he had witnessed.