Maja doesn't know the plans of the gods.

She's barely even a fully fledged member of the pack, honestly, a pudgy thing on the peripheries of the others. But Tyr is gone. Cupid is busy. Everyone she was close to is gone, and Lilja and Ragnhildr would be busy right now, wouldn't they. She hears the call, waits for someone to respond, and decides that long enough is long enough.

It's understandable that the call would need to be returned. Not a welcome, but an acknowledgment. She doesn't have the authority to let anyone onto the island. Granted, she doesn't know if she doesn't have that authority, either. It's a strange situation, this entire mess, and for it to happen while Tyr's away?

A bad omen indeed.

It takes her a half hour to cross the channel, giving Wardruna and Sheauga plenty of time to second-guess themselves. If there's a time to leave, it would have been then. But finally, she pulls herself from the waves. Her floral scent is gone now, left only in a soaking pelt and a girl that hardly looks frail-- though the quiet glance in her eyes shows she'd rather Ragnhildr be here.

"You stand before Skjǫldrheim." Her voice is soft, perhaps a little hesitant. "Do you need something?"