Herbalists' Cache sleeping mist

death stalked the edge of their camp, and it came at the price of a dead man.

@Blackfell and @Black Hawk had torn apart the wolf, and of their strength he approved. but why had they attacked? for what purpose; what had he done?

dissent he did not order both dismayed and intrigued sun eater, and he called for his hunters, stepping around the churned and bloody snow with a questioning expression.

she headed his call, though not without hesitance. not because she was afraid of his disapproval—they had done right, snuffing that pest from their turf. but because of the information she'd been given. she had much to stew on, though she would keep her disapproval hidden.

coming to stand before him, she raised a brow in question. the corpse still flooded by blackfell's birds, who'd nearly picked all the entrails clean. good. 

"you call, cousin?" if he was seeking an explanation, she would oblige.

sun eater finds the body, and calls, before blackfell could return. he was interrupted and distracted by @Gjalla — and though it was not an unwelcome distraction, he was peeved.

but nothing outwardly displays this as he comes forward. emerging from the bare brush, pushing past with dark shoulders and letting his eyes first put upon black hawk. to her, a knowing glance and a dipped head.

to sun eater, he raises his eyes but not his head. it is his attempt at showing him respect; though it burned the symbolic crown upon his brow, which he felt even now. his jaw twitches. he waits for words, as the raven he calls companion hops from the carcass and flies to perch himself upon black bird’s scruff.

they came.

for his cousin the single eye softened, but only imperceptibly. blackbird man arrived next, and sun eater regarded them both with a pointed look.

chin jerked toward the ravaged man upon the ground, though he did not seek to disturb the carrionbirds. more of them were here, and it reminded the man of how he had found gjalla.

one alighted to blackfell. "why kill?" asked lanzadoii at last of his hunters.

"he stole from the cache. ate the food meant for saatsine." black hawk did not lie, did not embellish. she looked upon the carcass with scorn, a curled lip. "he posed a threat." 

it was simple, efficient. a threat to any all all was killed and made an example of, and should consequence falsely full upon them, so be it. 

"his body will be a message to other rodents."

she tells true.

he looks upon the body. still, he can feel the trumpets of war in his vein. a willingness to destroy, to maim, to kill—all stemming from a bloodline made for destruction. it has been so long since he was so cruel. so voracious. and it felt amazing. he tastes the man's blood still, fresh upon his tongue as if it had just happened, and he raises his head.

lips curl. it is what i wish i did to the tartok woman. cruel, bitter honesty as it was. blackfell did not fear. he told it how it was. that was who he was, who he was born as. he would not forget it again.

there was an ire burning in sun eater. he had not quite understood why nagruk and blackfell had fought at all. now he understood. "no cache," he growled, glancing between them both though it was the blackbird upon which his eye settled. "no need cache."

did they not understand? he found his peace, held it. "no stealing. he not steal. he eat. give him meat. see our strength. our kills," the chieftain went on. "we not keep this land,  uuts'taa. it why we leave river."

anger, voice raising; "we not need keep food! that weak, for pack who stay always and never walk. every day we kill first blood. caribou give all. we take all. not fight over meat."

"all land saatsine home. nagruk understand," he said pointedly, holding the hunter's stare. "man killed for nothing."

his tail lashed the air. "we kill if threat. if teeth lift to star eater. to young. we kill if attack. we kill when i say."

he glared between the sun clan wolves. "bury him."

brows once raised in question now furrowed with irritation. they were being scolded for this rats death? they were in the wrong for snuffing a strange that may have very well became a threat? 

black hawk bristles. her posture stiffens, her muzzle tipping upward with indignation. she thought her cousin would of had the sense to recognize they'd been proactive. 

she thought wrong. 

"you would have a threat walk amongst your people? to stalk, to plot?" her voice is calm as she speaks, but a fury burns within. "you would have your children put at risk, so we may feed some stray?"

she sucked at the back of her teeth. she is disappointed, and it's scrawled across her expression. "what if that man was not satisfied with food?" what if he'd wanted his wife? his unborn cubs?

how could her cousin not see the bigger picture? 

he had one eye, but he may as well be truly blind.

sun eater is unhappy. how did blackfell know? was it the comment about nagruk? or was it a power thing? he searches the man's face, looks upon his one eye that may as well be dead, and then his face contorts into something angry.

it is the comment of nagruk that drives it home.

black hawk refutes, and blackfell finds himself standing taller, jutting his chin out, feeling his flanks heave faster with the furious breaths he gulps down.

we kill when i say.

no! he shouts. saliva bubbling at the corners of his mouth, red eyes growing bloodshot with a rage that unfurls, consumes. i kill when i kill. that is his way. that is his truth. this allegiance—fraying as it was—meant nothing. he was his own man. and now, he was beginning to realize.

beginning to grow disdain. you are a fool. it comes as a hiss, and he stalks a foot closer, guard hairs rising; hackles bristling, flame coming to roar within his chest up from his gut. an insecure fool. his tongue flicks out, across his teeth that turn orange at the root, across his nose that still tastes of the man's blood.

he feels the raven at his shoulders spook, wings flapping as it takes to the sky, cawing loudly.

insolence.

a long smile split the chieftain's face, but it was not one of warmth; it held the satisfaction of one who has always known rot. black hawk was ignored, a woman forgiven for ignorance in the face of her family's death. it was blackfell to whom he turned now. his stare burned, focus moving next.

"but he did not," he said to black hawk in a measured tone of utter calm. "war chief ice diver and bloodhunter ridgeback first fought me. i showed strength, killed their leader, and they submitted. they became saatsine. this man had only hunger, and you did not wait. you killed. mine is the thinking of a leader. but how could you know? you had no one to teach you."

his teeth glinted toward the blackbird. "you not your own man. not since you captive to star eater council. you prove self to me, then break it," crowding close, tail a jet flag. "you fight me here? for what? for land i not keep? for what?"

and i oop—

he talked to her as if she was a child. as if she knew nothing of being a chief. he had founded his leadership on a murder. the wolves he spoke of? they did not follow him out of admiration or strength. 

they followed him out of fear. that was no true chieftain. not in her eyes.

"do not speak with me as if i am child." she warned. her patience wears dangerously thin, her ire hardly contained. her tail raises too; a challenge. she would not bow to him, not over something that she knew was right. "to be proactive is to be wise. he was stealing food to provide for your cubs, cousin. does that mean nothing to you?"

was it not better as a leader to assume every stranger that comes to your home—permanent or not—was a threat? especially if there were children to be born here soon? 

she does not understand him. and she does not care to. when the two men square up with one another, she stands on the side lines, her shoulders tense. if her cousin could not see reason, she would not defend him. 

and if a fight were to erupt, she'd made her decision on which side she would choose.

since he arrived in saatsine, he has been a bomb ticking.

tick.

tick.

tick.

now, he erupts. an explosion, one of fury. of emotions pent up. of anger he has fought to swallow in the name of peace. hours ago, he had resigned himself. but now, standing before this man, as he spews his delusions, blackfell can no longer delude himself.

he hears the roar of his amounting anger. he can see the wrath of his kin looking out into
the world from him. blackfell’s teeth clench; lips curling, vibrating with the depth of the snarl that shakes his bones. do you loathe it? he asks, unflinching as sun eater invades his space. if a fight is to come, so be it.

itching, he had been, to flay sun eater’s hide from him while he still drew breath. does it bother you that your wife, his voice does not rise but lowers, a menacing croak, a woman, he spits, holds more respect than you? in the heart of your own clan? his laughter is bitter, and then he snaps his jaws. he dares. he dares sun eater.

attack. bite. let them come to blows. does it grate upon what is left of your tattered ego?

he breathes air.

you are a small man, sun eater. he looks down, past a scarred snout, with burning ruby eyes, upon the eyeless, arrogant scum. you cannot even properly protect your children. so they will not need you.

aahhhhh

each word a barb.

he thought of star eater as the blows to ego fell, as his shoulders grew more and more tense. like the brother who had come and who had died, he wished to rend blackfell, to tear him with as much imagery as surely grew in the man's mind.

the information freely given by blackbird man and dark snow were weapons. he was able to tamp himself only for he now knew that blackfell had lost all dear to him, had been trampled. and it was from this humiliation that he spoke now. he wished to prove himself again, but he faced a man who had never once been captive.

chieftain's breath was fetid, his breath quick, nostrils flared as he struggled to rein himself. a muscle leapt along his jawline, but it was the starwife gathering resentment in the corners of his mind. and suspicion, yes. she had urged him to go to this man, to speak as if they might be companions. had she foreseen this?

had star eater meant for blackfell to attack?

it was a supreme effort not to rip into blackbird. it was an effort which cost him intensely; it was an effort for which his wife would pay.

the disgraced gave himself away, confirming what the saatsine man had suspected but not known. and now at last he did glance to black hawk. "we will not be here forever. if you understood more than a girl's thought, then you would know he stole nothing from any mouth."

a step back; another an effort.

morwenna. why did you tell me to seek him?

he gave to blackfell a hardened look. "not if the woman is mine." for that was something more he had which talon man did not; the promise of a future. a sharp call then, for @Star Eater and for @Gjalla.

"remember when you complain of gjalla, that i told you to take lanzadoii woman," he said loudly when they had come. a shoulder jerked toward black hawk. "you have one."

gjalla had been watching long before sun eater called for her. had been watching since the first bite of tension, since the first challenge slithered into their voices, coiling tight and hot and inevitable. she was waiting like a vulture waited for its prey to die.

she steps forward now, parting from slowly-rejuvenating brush to join the trio. she does not stand beside him, and she would sooner die than stand behind him. she had seen it from the earliest, he had always hinted at it. his view of women. and yet, when his life is threatened, who does he call to?

funny man. foolish man.

when gjalla moves, it is to blackfell’s side. her gaze is cold and cutting, pale as the ice beneath their feet. "do not invoke my name as if i stand with you, chieftain." the word is deliberate, mocking, laced with venom, for he is unfit. she saw it before, his uncertainty and insecurity, and she sees it now. her tail is high, the set of her ears forward, unflinching in the face of whatever storm he might summon. they would weather, and it would take nothing out of them. "you embarrass yourself."

---

forgive me ebony... twas fun while it lasted..

a girl's thought.

a girl's fucking thought. 

she should have expected such misogyny of a man lesser. her cousin invited her into his clan, had given her refuge and new purpose. and for this she was grateful...but she would not sit there and allow him to spit in her face and demean her. she laughed, something cold and humorless. "a girl's thought?" she repeated. the words sank into her skin like a venom. searing and aching. she was a lanzadoii, and she thought she would always advocate for her people.

but not him. to know their bloodline was tainted with someone so egotistical, a leader who only cared for himself...

"is this how you talk to your wife, cousin? is this the treatment she gets when we are not around?" she muses. her tone pitched lower, taunting. "it is a marvel how she has not ran into the arms of another. i was told she was a chief once..." steps taken closer until she is by blackfell's side. bristling with an ire she long thought put to rest. "and yet i've heard you treat her like a common whore."

her jaws snap, teeth just inches away from his muzzle in which he preaches filth. "you are a disgrace to lanzadoii. you are not a man, but a shadow of one." her chin tilted, staring down upon him with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. "and i fear for your daughters, when they realize their father thinks of them with such disgust."

the call beckons, and star eater comes.
her gait is slow, trembling, heavy with the swell of children, with the weight of something unsettled that prickles her spine long before the words reach her ears. her gaze dances across the gathering—black hawk, blackfell, gjalla, sun eater, a storm held barely at bay.
she has barely opened her mouth before the current catches her.
what is the meaning— her voice begins, firm but uncertain, ears pinning as the air crackles.
and then black hawk speaks.
and morwenna hears.
the words fall like stones into her chest, sharp and cruel and unforgiving. how she has not run into the arms of another... star eater’s breath becomes shallow, tight, a frost that slips between her ribs. they do not know the ache their barbs stir. or perhaps they do.
her eyes, pale and unreadable, sweep over the scene as if to measure its pieces. black hawk bristling. gjalla resolute. blackfell alight with fury. and her husband—her husband, held together by threads she once wove herself. now fraying.
her tongue presses to the roof of her mouth. words line up, but she does not loose them easily. not here. not yet. not where the whole of saatsine could taste the rot spilling from the heart of their leaders.
she exhales slowly, as if to gather them all beneath a thin veil of calm.
this is lanzadoii? she murmurs at last, voice gentle as snowfall, but every word carries the bite of ice. this. here. now. men barking. women biting. her gaze sharpens, flicking between them as she takes a single step forward, her head lifting high despite the burden of her body. who are we without one another? do you seek to tear this into blood and ruin before my children ever see the sky?
and then, quieter, to black hawk, the one whose words had sunk deepest. what is it you are saying of me? not angry. not accusing. but steady, wanting the truth laid bare.
her ears sweep back. her breath is heavy.
if you are determined to divide the sun clan, she says to all of them now, voice rising just enough to be heard over the growing tension, then do so where the babes cannot hear. please!

2 sec from rolling the dice for an early stress induced birth

gjalla's rejection was twofold. of the three who now stood aligned before him, he was most sorry to see her go. and yet the man was grateful it had come to this, that he had not made her war chief.

his anger was kindled anew, but he did not budge. gjalla was addled by her connection to blackfell, and black hawk did not know how to be proper lanzadoii. all she had ever known where the shadows of men, ghosts whose teachings had been lost. 

what, would they share the man who had destroyed his place among the sun clan? sun eater might have enjoyed seeing that. 

he wanted to gain the upper hand with words again, but forced his ire into the future hours that would come. his wife did not soften him, though his ears were attentive as she spoke.

yet there could be no unity, not after what he had heard today. "blackfell think his mind more than mine. has insulted saatsine. chieftain. children. kill in my name with no honor. kill for self. gjalla not have loyalty. only collect status," he said to his wife. "and black hawk, she will fight gjalla for him." baiting. baiting. 

he fair shook with the effort of control, but this moment demanded it. the loss of hunters would strike any band, yet to capitulate meant also his own end.

"so. you choose, star eater. they throw dirt on name of my wife. they have made choice to leave," he decided for the others. her sister, whose presence she had just pleaded. the man who served her. his own cousin, whose loss he would process alone.

now the choice was her own. to be lanzadoii. to be a throne wolf. choose now. he would not have her maintain alliance with those who spat upon his pride.

star-woman's voice cracks like a whip. commanding, firm—not loud, but they hit just the same. she is what makes hawk hesitate. she is the one who keeps her from lunging for her husbands throat. 

she is the one she's loyal to. not cen, not saatsine. her and the life growing in her belly. 

her eyes meet those of the woman that stood between the trio and her cousin. within them, she sees the hurt hawk caused with a comment misinterpreted. her lips tug into a scowl—at herself, for having been so loose-lipped to speak so harshly of the woman. and then she frowns. 

"those words were not meant to hurt you." her voice softened nearly imperceptibly; a hint of a pleasing note for star-woman to understand. it is not what hawk thought of her; it is how her husband thinks of her. a warm body and nothing more. 

"your husband speaks foul of you. of women, of the daughters in your womb. he thinks of us lesser. tell me—were you not a chief?" sun eater could ink into the background now; her focus only on his wife. 

"do you not deserve respect you earned? respect you fought for. respect you deserve." she spits with venom. his disdain toward not only women, but his own wife, makes her blood curdle and sour. it makes her wish to see him fucking bleed. 

her tail lashes with pent up energy she dare not expend, not in front of star-woman. "it sickens me. you mean nothing more to him than the cubs inside of you. this misogyny of his will be your ruin."

sun eater does not stand. he does not fight, only backs away. backs away, one step, two steps, putting distance between himself and blackfell. his eyes flash for this, with knowing, it is a salve that licks smooth at his burning pride, his burning arrogance. coward. he tests, finding he likes how the word fits on his tongue when wielded to sun eater's throat. yes.

he was a coward.

he calls—for gjalla, for star eater. blackfell says nothing, does nothing, while this transpires. only fixes a cold, cruel stare on the man, feeling the hatred as it flows into his veins, mixing with the hot blood that circulates through out him. poison is adrenaline and adrenaline has become addiction as it settles within him, lighting a fire beneath every nerve home to the onyx man.

words. there are many words, words that blackfell does not care for. he does not talk; this much, can be seen. sun eater plys his trade, speaking, insulting, digging his grave deeper, all the while blackfell dons the cloak of a reaper. sun eater will not go far—he will ensure this, and does so by taking a step. another step. taking back the distance he had created by wrenching the chain in his grip, the stare that burns seeking to scorch straight through the scum's good eye.

perhaps blackfell would not kill him. perhaps he would just take his remaining eye. an offering to his god.

morwenna's words do not lance, do not strike. he hears them and ignores them, ears rotating outwards, the clipped things twitching with an anger that does not wish to be contained any longer. you, he spits. capturing sun eater's stare, blowing heavy, hot breaths from his jaws and nostrils. you will address her as my queen. nothing more. this is punctuated with the click of his teeth, nothing less. then, the snap of jaws.

bow. not to him.

to her.

gjalla remains where she stands, unmoved and unwavering. sun eater tried—tried to lie—but they do not touch her. not after she wed herself to blackfell only hours before. he speaks of loyalty, of status, as if she is some scavenger seeking scraps of power from the table of men, and it is laughable. she has no interest in his little throne, nor in whatever pitiful legacy he believes himself building.

sun eater, for all his bluster, shrinks before them. backs away. how telling.

there is distress is woven into morwenna's features. gjalla sees it, and her aggression dissipates for a brief moment to press her shoulder to her sister's. it is protective, instinctual. oh, sweet girl. a difficult man she'd chosen, indeed. now, blackfell moves, stepping closer, seething with a fury that mirrors her own.

he stands before sun eater with a demand that resounds like thunder. bow. she knows what he intends. she knows he will not do it. they all know it. he is too proud, too steeped in his own delusions of power to kneel before anyone—least of all a woman. it would be his greatest folly. the only thing holding sun eater together is the woman he does not deserve.

for all his posturing, all his words, sun eater has already lost. she turns to morwenna once more, voice hushed with finality. "you asked who we are without one another. but what is he without you?" a brute. a fool, a man playing at cunning.

her ears ring.
the words flung around her blur—black hawk’s sharp tongue, blackfell’s simmering demand, gjalla’s steady ice. star eater stands in the heart of it, wrapped in caribou hide and the ghosts of her own reign, listening as her name is thrown back and forth like a bone between dogs. the seven...
her breath is thin.
there had been strain for days, but the moment rips through her now like a clawed hand. sharp, squeezing. her belly tightens hard enough to make her grimace, lips pulling back from her teeth. not now.
her voice is meant to be strong when she lifts it, meant to quell the heat rising between them. she steps forward, chin high—enough of this. all of you!—but as the words leave her mouth, her body betrays her.
a trickle, warm and unwelcome, slides down her thigh.
her eyes widen. ears slick back. oh.
and then louder, rasping and almost laughing for the absurdity of it, how comely of your queen.
the anger, the stress, the tension—her womb is fed up. the babes are coming.
her gaze scrapes across them: sun eater, full of smoke and wounded pride; gjalla at her flank, ever her shield; black hawk, fierce and righteous; blackfell, all venom and flame. this is not how it was supposed to happen. not here, not now, with the air still thick with violence and unspoken declarations.
the seven curse us all, she hisses, more at the moment than them, before sucking in a sharp breath, curling slightly around the searing cramp. fuck.
the words drop like stones in the snow.
her belly clenches again. her legs are unsteady. gjalla... her gaze finds her first, pleading. help me to the shelter.
there is no time left for choosing sides. no time for crowns or titles or who bows to who. only this.
the children come now.

for her he witheld.

for her he did not strike. 

blackfell's demand simmered a new suspicion under his flaring hackles. he shoved away the talk of the women and focused instead on his wife, waiting for her to speak. she must choose. saatsine or what she had been. the hunters must answer to him, not to her. she had submitted herself to his hierarchy; blackfell and gjalla sought to go against her word.

a scathing look was flung to black hawk. it would be better if she departed with the —

the children come now.

his eye widened; a flare of his nostrils telegraphed his unease, shock, worry. 

he could kill them all for bringing her here.

sun eater thought of forbidding gjalla, but that would pit him exactly against his mate. "enough!" he snarled to blackfell's foolish posturing. there were no queens here, only a stupid man and the women who wished to bed him.

star eater; he supported her swiftly with the heft of his shoulder. "you care?" he flung toward his cousin, toward dark snow. "then help her."

they should not be allowed.

for her! for her! he would give them into her care, trying to meet her eye with all the reassurance he could muster.

"men are forbidden." and blackfell was not welcome again within the cache. the truce of the women would hold so long as the children came. there was no peace between the chieftain and the blackbird, and he barred the way so that star eater could not be followed.

blackfell laughs! he laughs, lowly, a tense and loud sound. sun eater tries to bar the way for him, but blackfell seeks to do the same for him. so they are at an impasse, except, blackfell does not seek an impasse. he snarls. he comes forwards, seeking to invade his space, to provoke him.

yes. he says, red eyes settling. they are. pointed words. words made of swords, aimed for sun eater's throat. hackles raising, guard hairs twitching to the thrum of war drums. they are loud, thunderous, and he hears the call of the wild in his chest. in his heart of hearts.

it is black, calloused, scarred. but it beats still. he jabs. breath coming in deep bursts.

a smile comes, crooked and taunting, upon his scarred face. sun eater was a bigger coward, a bigger fool, than what blackfell had prior assumed if he thought blackfell would just leave. now, he would fight. he would fight, whether sun eater wished to come to blows or not. it was the way of men, it was the way of their world.

morwenna would be queen again. blackfell would ensure this.

fight. he demands. or do you fear?

watching star eater lean heavily upon her women, some rage escaped her mate. worry took its place, worry mingled with a goodly amount of pride.

blackfell's demand to fight incensed him for its irony; he loudly scoffed. "you say she your queen? now she in pain. fear," he snapped. "you want her worry too?" a mind split, torn between worry for their fighting and the focus she must have in childbirth.

he was to be a father, and blackfell had nothing. he had this piece of ground and its bloodied stand, but he fought for nothing. even his earlier wolf-kill had been for naught; he had thrown aside saatsine. a murderer, killing hungry men for no reason save his own ego.

he was to be a father! blackfell had no wife, no clan, no lineage. nothing. sun eater felt himself more masculine, stronger, hale, virile; the beautiful starwoven had chosen him and chosen to bear his young. 

the fire in sun chieftain's remaining eye warned the blackbird not to misuse him. bad luck to spill more blood on the eve of his children's birth, but he would do it, and a hackle-raised snarl said it so. "she choose me, blackfell. she choose saatsine." and none of the other's harsh words, his accusations, his falsehoods, and his anger would ever change that truth.

he took no more steps in an attempt at peace. if the fool wished to harp about his queen before and attack her chosen now behind that blessed back, so be it.

this!

this!

madness!

still, he does not fight. blackfell wished not to be the first to spill blood; he thought, if he was not, that morwenna could forgive him for killing the father of her unborn pups. they raged inside her now, demanding to be free and he stood here, trembling with anger.

she did not get to choose! she did not get to choose because his parasites sucked and demanded passage! they would both be lucky if they did not kill her. blackfell raises his scornful eyes, from sun eater to watch as the women flee in the distance, towards the snow shelter, and he swallows his bile.

this.

this.

this is the hardest thing he must do in his life. he takes a step back, paw trembling, mustering the strength it took to not raise teeth to sun eater. another, and he turns, but his smoldering eye does not leave the bastard. this was not the end.

when it did end, it would be in blood.

exit blackfell <3