---

Backdated to when Tyr brought Sindri home

Sindri knew whatever was in store.... wasn't good. She'd been gone too long, Cupid must've figured out by now nobody had initially gone with her, and there weren't enough excuses in any world to keep her from the Grecian asswhupping she was about to be gifted. She'd have to tell him about the bird early, that way if he started swinging, her poor companion wasn't caught in the crossfire.
She slunk up to the den with shameful steps, purposely heavy-stepped to announce her not-so-triumphant return. A soft whine keened from her throat, head dipping low as she paused outside and waited for her Father.

Hopefully she wasn't really rousing him, though she didn't think he would mind being awoken by his daughters return either.

Papa, she crooned softly, tail swishing nervously and ears on a swivel, Papa, I know I have apologies to make, but I'd like you to meet someone first.

Good news first, right? It wouldn't soften his anger, but at least it wasn't all dour curses and misbehaving children that'd made its way back home.

---

Cupid was in his den, stealing a nap while the pack was still waking up. The loamy scent of the packed earth and leaf litter filled his nose, blotting out the return of his daughter until her voice reached his ears.

Papa, and his ear twitched, head lifting off his paws as he processed the voice and who it belonged to. It didn't take long - he knew his children by their sounds and scents. Cupid lunged to his paws, scrambling to get out of the den. Sindri - He gasped, slamming the top of his skull into the roof of the den in his blind haste. A furious curse slipped past his lips, but he crawled the rest of the way into the open air and shook off the ache now blossoming across the top of his head.

He truly didn't care. She was here, and alive. I know I have some apologies to make, Cupid shook his head once again, attempting to rid himself of the throbbing across his brow. He wanted to rush and embrace her, but her words eventually filtered through his aching head. Sindri - who?

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.

---

The fallen cherub held steady, ears straining to catch every word, but only just. He wanted to throw himself forward, gather her to his bosom like when she'd been the tiny runt of the litter. Once, they had all been small enough for him to hold all six wriggling, precious fledglings within the nest of his body. Now, they all found their flight feathers, and he was left here: grounded.

His daughter had found an owlet, it seemed; rescued the creature like so many of the ill-fated things she'd tried to save when she was small and learning to hunt. Cupid had never known how to handle the habit - it was such a strange one for a wolf to have, and so at odds with the seemingly inherent brutality of her bloodline. He had entertained her antics, and it had turned out this: an adventurous young woman with a little companion of her own. Fresh eyes, he hoped to keep watch when he couldn't, and when her Watchman father was long gone. Oh, He breathed a sigh of relief, thank the gods you're alright.

Cupid's breath clouded on the cool morning air as he exhaled with a heavy sigh. With care to where her shoulders were, he met her halfway to rest his cheek atop his child's crown. Her apology came soon, but Cupid lingered in the embrace a moment longer before taking a step back.

The mountain, farther than she'd expected, she said - as if that was all there was to his worry. A miscalculation is just a mistake - Sindri, it is alright to make mistakes. He paused. But it wasn't a mistake to forgo the agreement we came to, when I gave you my blessing to venture to the mainland. You were meant to have an escort. He let the pause, paternal disapproval tense within the air between them, stretch a little longer. αγαπητέ μου, if you are going to break your promises to others, you should consider what you stand to gain - and what you stand to lose: my trust, your credibility, even your life, if Tyr had not found you in time.

Cupid fell upon her; first with the adoration of a relieved Father... and then the heat of a thousand suns. The introduction to the owlet didn't seem to soothe Cupid any, as she didn't really think it would -- but he was careful not to squash the downy little critter either, so it was still a win in some way, at least.
She smiled at his comment.

Just one, she offered quietly at the comment of thanking the gods, giving credit to Tyr even though it was more of a rhetorical; it was the god of war --of justice-- who'd helped her, not whoever else may or may not have been watching.

Sindri stood quietly for the verbal lashing, listening, learning, allowing her Father to work it all out of his system without another peep. She was old enough to know the difference and she was sure that was precisely the crux of Cupid's wrath, and she knew she was wrong in not taking someone with her as she'd been instructed. In his pause, she very nearly argued that she could hunt, and that he was too overprotective -- but why work that blade between his ribs when there was nothing wrong with her parent being so worried about her? When it came from a place of love, and light, and all things good?
She understood most of the points he was trying to make, though, and she only nodded along as if Cupid could see her subdued countenance and guilt-pinched features.

There was one part that stood out to her, and her brow furrowed.

No, it wasn't a mistake, and I'm so sorry, Papa, especially for worrying you. I understand now, and I won't do it again, she allowed a short pause, the curiosity thick in her voice already, I know what could've been lost, but what could I possibly have gained? Tyr is already teaching me to hunt, and fight, and survive.

Did he just mean that Sindri could've had a guide, help to quickly and more efficiently get to the mountain? Or was Sindri really missing something? She knew Tyr had experience, that he was well-versed in travel and confident in his abilities to take care of himself and others -- unlike her. But she knew all that, and it felt like Cupid was teasing her with some other treasure she'd missed out on.
Well. It's not like Tyr would've been the one guaranteed to take her out, anyway. Maybe Cupid just meant in general.

She was still focusing much too hard on the adventure, and not the broken promise.