Grief echoed in the silence around them as her anguished note fell away. Asgeir joined them, rigid, and they all moved the rocky pile with all the strength they could muster. It might've been hours or seconds, all she knew was the frantic thunder of her heart, the gentle patter of the rain, and the gods forsaken clack of the rocks.

But eventually, her sisters golden ward. Sindri’s little self felt bruised, and her claws were broken and frayed, pads bleeding, but she had never let her size stop her from keeping up and she couldn't let it keep her from helping Apollo now. She wouldn't.

It felt even quieter as they stared at the boy, hoping; relief flooded her as Sindri, too, caught the movement of a breath. He wasn't gushing from anywhere, but he wasn't conscious, either. For one panicked moment, she debated telling Astraios to go find the healer, but she didn't know if Lilja would appreciate the owl waking her even if he understood and could find her on his own.

He'll be okay, she uttered to Bragi, urgent and desperate, I'm going to find Lilja. Don't move him!

The tiny evening rose turned and sped off, Astaios fluttering to the sky and soaring after her hastily with a squawk.