Herbalists' Cache patience and restraint

the snow outside whispered, wind curling like breath through the narrow mouth of her shelter. morwenna stirred quietly in the dimness, warmth of her children pressed against her belly. the scent of herbs still clung faintly to the walls, faded but familiar.
she shifted, muzzle lifting just enough to part the hush.
@Ridgeback, she called, low but clear, voice carried like smoke on winter air.
then she waited.

The fur along his spine lifted at the sound of his name, as if an invisible hand had stroked it from the base of his tail, up to the crown of his head. He shuddered, a motion that caused the fur along the flat of his back to rise, and then fall- bringing the ridge of fur back down with it. 

He answered the call, stepping quietly into the darkness where he paused for a moment. He still felt the chill along his spine, though the sensation had passed. To shed it, he spoke:

Call me Ksura.

morwenna raised her head slightly, regarding him with the quiet intensity of a queen long used to secrets. her brow lifted, a subtle arch that drew attention to the sharpness of her gaze.
ksura, she repeated, as though tasting the name. a slight pause. is that your true name? her voice was soft, velvet over steel. it is lovely. strong. a name, after all, was not a light thing—it was a root, a spine, a banner. and this one suited him.
she shifted, the furs around her rustling gently, the shadows of her snow shelter curling tighter in the low light. a breath passed from her tender lips.
is there any news? she asked then, the question smooth but weighted. there was always news. and she had learned long ago that peace was most often a quiet between storms.

No shudder. No icy fingers drifting up his spine. While it still evoked some feelings of guilt and grief, it seemed to fit better than the names he had been given in order to make himself fit in amongst the Saatsine. He felt some of his own authenticity return, in hearing his given name returned to him.

Yeah, He said with a sigh, as though a weight had been lifted. Her compliment provoked a light scoff. It’s short for Damnitksura, He joked dryly, with a light wince. He glanced briefly to the kids, and offered a light apology for swearing in front of by licking his lips and tilting his ears back. 

She wanted news, and his heart fluttered. He gave a barely noticeable nod, and licked his lips again, realizing that his mouth felt dry. I talked with Kekoa, He said, and nodded again. He’ll help. It all felt like some secret conspiracy, to be gathering allies. He shuffled his feet, trying to make himself a bit more comfortable, though he found himself struggling to approach the topic he’d discussed with the Ghost Talker. 

I….I had an idea. He confessed.

morwenna watched him in silence for a long moment, her expression unreadable but not unkind. the gentle flicker of firelight from a small ember bed caught the pale curve of her face, silver eyes locked upon ksura’s with the quiet scrutiny of a woman who had borne kingdoms and buried them, both.
his jest earned a faint lift at the corner of her mouth, a breath of amusement that did not quite rise to laughter. a noble house, then, she murmured wryly, tilting her head. house damnitksura. we shall stitch it onto a banner, red and gold.
but when he mentioned kekoa—when he said help—her gaze sharpened. not with suspicion, but with a buried hope, one that had grown heavy in the marrow of her bones. a rare thing to admit, much less indulge.
she inclined her head slightly. good, she said softly. he is wise. but then, ksura paused. hesitated. i had an idea.
that made her lean forward, if only slightly, enough for her voice to lower. what is your plan?
because she was no longer a girl who leapt blindly into war. not anymore. not with children sleeping just behind her.

Her sense of humour was a light, spilling down through heavy storm clouds. It cleansed him, albeit briefly, of his profound stress. He was in awe of her, for being so strong. A woman who had gone through such change in life- only to have life demand that she change once again, for the safety of her children.

He moved in close; the children would be the only ones aside from Morwenna herself who would hear words, whispered a hair’s breadth from her ear. Here, the air was hushed and warm. He could hear the beating of his heart, and he could feel the soft brush of her breath against his shoulder. 

He pulled back to search for her gaze in the aftermath. Could it work? He asked.

morwenna did not flinch at his closeness—her breath, steady and sure, matched the rhythm of his own. his plan had been whispered like a prayer, quiet as falling snow, but she had listened to every word.
when he pulled back, searching her gaze, he would find no fear in her eyes.
only fire.
it can be done, she said, voice low and certain, like a promise bound in blood. but we must move carefully. no one must suspect until it is time.
her eyes flitted briefly to where the children lay, and then back to him.
for them, i will burn every bridge. even saatsine.

He felt validated to learn that his plan wasn't just a pipe dream. It was flattering, to have an idea passed and agreed to, by two wolves now; it gave him reason to think perhaps he did have some value that hadn't been assigned to him simply because he'd been Ice Diver's mate. He wasn't keen to rush into brainstorming more ideas- just having the one was enough for now, and it was not guaranteed to succeed even if everything fell into place. 

Morwenna had every right to be fearful that the plot might fall through. He nodded, though he was reluctant to agree. You're right, He said. So...I'll...I won't be around to visit, after this, He said. He had to commit to the bit- and as someone who was both a man and unrelated to Morwenna, he had no reason to visit her. 

She was fierce, committed to the welfare of her children. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at them, knowing that they would be bigger by the time he set eyes on them again. Even a couple of days would make a difference- and he had no way of knowing when their plan might be put into action. He tried to summon a slight smile. Hey, careful what you say around them, he said. One of 'em'll turn out to be obsessed with fire, and then you'll have a little pyromanic on your hands. That one, I bet, he decreed, pointing at random to Fa'liya.

morwenna blinked, the weight of his words settling slow, like ash on snow.
you are not staying with me? she asked, voice soft but not without edge—more surprise than hurt, though both lived behind her eyes.
she swallowed it back. all of it. the ache that always came when those she loved walked away, even when it was necessary. especially when it was necessary. still, her gaze drifted to the children, bundled in sleep, innocent and untouched by the schemes of adults.
i understand, she said at last. it was not an accusation. not yet.
when he joked—about fire, about fa’liya—she allowed her lips to twitch into something small and fond, glancing at the child he pointed to. then may the gods keep us all, she murmured. because if she’s the one, the world will burn pretty.
morwenna turned back to him, a moment passing before she added, quietly, just come back. if you can. if it’s safe. that’s all i ask.

Just- He blurted, but he halted when he saw the look in her eyes, that he thought was a mix of hurt and disappointment. He felt it too- though likely only a fraction of the insecurity she might have felt. She came to terms with it, or so she said. He felt the urge to mansplain the hell out of it- but he held back. 

A little bit of distance between them might be for the best. It was a sacrifice he hoped he could make up for, in a peaceful future.

Humour was a relief, but a temporary one. As soon as he’d drawn a smile from her, it faded into a look of worry that he wished she did not have to bear.

Of course, He response came as a reflex. Of course, He said again, with more intention. Sun Eater knows I won’t fight, but that I’ll help with the children. I’m hoping he’ll believe that I’m doing it for him, so that he doesn’t… He grimaced and winced. The man had torn Gjalla’s throat out- what was to stop him from killing another?

he will,
her voice was quiet, but firm—like stone worn smooth by the sea.
morwenna did not look at him as she said it, but instead let her gaze drift toward the sky, where smoke and snow blurred the horizon. whatever weight ridgeback bore, she carried it with him now, wordlessly.
he knows who you are, ksura, she said gently, the old name slipping from her tongue like a thread tying him back to something truer. he knows what you are not.
a pause, then, softer.
you are not a man who turns away from children.
her eyes finally found his. unwavering.
you’ll find your way back to us. when it’s time.

She had more faith in him, and his ability to act, than he did- but the vote of confidence gave him just enough reason to hope that she might be right, and that he could pull it off. He might have had a better chance, had he not allowed his heart to soften at the sight of the children. He’d have to harden himself a little, if he hoped to watch them grow.

She looked as if he was praying for a moment. He’d never asked her if she had any beliefs, but he left her to her silence, dropping his gaze to watch the pups at her side. 

The sound of his name was warm, welcome, but his faint smile faded when doubt reached for his conviction. What did Sun Eater know of him, after all of it? Twice now he’d proven himself to be a coward by choosing not to fight- would that reputation keep him safe, or make him a target?

Her next words, meant to reassure him, instead reopened a wound she wouldn’t have ever seen, like a scar hidden beneath fur. He wouldn’t likely recognize the faces of his own children, now- had he turned his back on them, or had he done the right thing by sending them away? That question would haunt him forever. 

He felt as if he aged and grew weary from the weight of it all. Morwenna, and her shining gaze, was the only light at the end of this. Again, he would be giving up everything he’d had, with the chance to start over- but if anyone could convince him it was possible, it was her. 

I’ll be back. When the time comes, He said. When their plan could be fulfilled, they would be reunited again.