When he finally managed to steady himself on shaky legs and make his way down from the cairn, Apollo noticed the scents of his home were... different. Lacking. The birds still chirped and the wind still blew, but there was no distant chatter of wolves, no soft, sleepy voices or snoring newborns as he poked his head into stuffy old dens and made cursory laps around common areas.

Bragi? He called, catching a stray whiff of fresh scent and following it blindly, not even bothering to analyze who it belonged to. Sindri? Tyr? Cu—

The trail led him to the beach, a shrine, and the pale dove praying before it. He stopped short. Apollo knew he shouldn't interrupt, but Cupid was alone, and he wanted to know why.

He picked his way carefully across the shore, futilely flicking flecks of sand off his paws as he went. He made to stand beside Cupid, quiet, reverent, his head bowed respectfully to the shrine as he waited.

He wondered who it was for.