Sindri was glad of a reason to leave home, as guilty as it made her feel. She didn’t want to leave the island for long, and she didn’t want to leave Cupid at all. But she’d been the darling daughter for long enough; the one who remained when all else had left, the one who studiously kept to her lessons, who threw her efforts into keeping Skjoldrheim strong.

Steeped in returning memories and realizing who -what- she was hadn’t been allowed to matter. Not when the world had been torn apart by fissures and icy cold rattled their very bones. Not when the pack needed her to stay focused, to do her job, to learn as much as she could.
She wasn’t so foolish as to think she was done training, but she was fortunate enough to have a sudden excuse. Cupid wanted people to go out and spread word of the coming festival later in the spring, and Sindri had been among the first to volunteer. Just a short jaunt, a week or two -- hit the string of packs that lived along the mountain ranges, maybe explore just a little. At this point, as long as she came back, she’d still be gone a shorter amount of time than literally anybody else. She’d still be the golden child.

Across the tundra she went; the plan was to start at one end of Mythris and work her way around in a circle until she came across the point to turn north and head directly upshore till she hit home again. Easy! She moved across the chilly plains with wild vigor, strides long, ignoring the sharp ache in her ribcage from the leftover wounds of Judgement. Astraios soared happily above her, whistling happy little notes and occasionally swooping to tousle her fur. It was their way; the peaks of Northfall came into view, and they were closing in when night fell.

A purple, eerie glow caught her attention, and despite her mission… Sindri swerved to head north, instead. The detour had set her days behind, and it would be days still till she reached their far neighbors….
But she had to know.
And she would.

She and Astraios found it by night; a tall, tame fire, violet in hue, one that burned nothing at all and stayed in place. It was a wondrous thing, one that reminded her of the great hearth of Hestia’s.
She wished Cupid were here to feel the warmth coursing off of it in a continuous wave. When she returned home, she wondered if he might not come to witness it. Her Father didn’t really leave the island, but with a capable escort, she thought it possible to convince him. Perhaps Tyr could come, too! The two of them could certainly keep him safe; in all her lessons with Lilja, Sindri had not shirked learning how to fight.

The young woman circled the fire excitedly, tail high and steps higher, her colorless gaze glittering.

Glorious.

Sindri tipped her head to the sky of strange stars and sang a song, light and happy. She couldn't help it; the night was warm, no clouds covered the inky sky, and even the moon was but a scratch along the specks of distant starlight.