Thump.

Sindri winced, hoping whatever he'd hit hadn't been too hard.

She heard her name, and some mutter, too, and then his sweet, pale face was emerging from the depths of the den. She thought she must've woken him; he looked so groggy, and the fur on one cheek was flattened where he must've laid it against a paw. Joy flooded her at seeing him, followed closely by the guilt of leaving him behind.

Who, indeed.

Wings of my own, I suppose you could say. He doesn't have a name yet, she explained in lieu of introductions, But he's a dark barn owl fledgling, likes to rest between my shoulders. Tyr and I found him and saved him.

She gulped, stepping forward with a whine to press into her Father's chest for a hug. She couldn't hold off her explanation; remorse absolutely swamped her now that she'd come home and saw for herself the worried creases in Cupid's soft features. She worried less that he would think her crazy than he just plain wouldn't care about what some dream visitor had to say at this point, knowing it was important for her to go out there again.

I'm so sorry, the piebald girl whispered, ears laying flat, I didn't realize how far the mountain was.