Herbalists' Cache i do not know my part

@Black Hawk

the den was quiet save for the soft murmurs of sleeping children. their tiny bodies nestled against her, rising and falling with each steady breath, their warmth a steady presence against the cool morning air that drifted in from the entrance.
star eater had not moved for hours. she had bathed each of them, smoothed their downy fur with the press of her tongue, ensuring that they were clean, warm, and well-fed. even her littlest one, fa’liya, had not been neglected. if anything, she had been given the most attention, guided firmly but gently to nurse when her strength wavered.
but now, she needed something else. someone else.
her ears twitched at the den’s entrance, eyes narrowing slightly as she exhaled. then, lifting her muzzle, she let out a short, commanding howl—one that would reach black hawk and summon her without delay. there were matters to discuss. matters only a woman could hear.

black hawk had not gone far. as commanded by storm-woman, she had stayed near the entrance of the birthing den. guarding it, ensuring no men would come close. 

she stood resolute and unmoving, as the wind outside barely masked the voice of star-woman. her queen, as blackfell had revealed during that quarrel. not a chief but a queen. it made sense; chieftess was too simple a title. 

and when her queen beckoned her, the loyal knight would heed that call. she stood from her resting place, ears set forward, as she stepped toward the mouth of the den. she could hear the gentle coo of the cubs, their soft whines and suckling. 

she stood at the entrance, not permitting herself to step any closer. not unless star-woman invite her in. amber eyes softened as she admired the starlings her queen had brought into the world. 

"they are beautiful," came her husky murmur. "you called?"

star eater’s eyes softened at the sight of her. black hawk, steadfast as ever, loyal and unwavering. she had kept her post, just as she had sworn, and for that, morwenna was grateful. she smiled, a rare thing these days, though it did not reach the weariness in her bones.
thank you, she murmured, glancing down at the tiny bodies nestled against her. they were warm, safe, untouched by the war raging beyond this den. but for how long?
her gaze lifted again, more serious now. is there any news of... a pause, a flicker of something in her expression, unreadable. blackfell? sun eater? her voice was careful, as if the names themselves might summon them.
her ears twitched, as though straining for an answer before it was even given. what has come of it?

her ears flatten for a moment. star-woman had been secluded in the comfort and sanctity of this den. both she and her star-children knew nothing of the chaos that'd ensued. the chaos that had brought them into the world. 

hawk's eyes fell for a moment, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the words she wished not to burden her queen with. but, she had asked. she sat at the mouth of the den, her bulk blocking the bitter winds and leering eyes that might wish to make it inside. 

"your husband is fine. they did not fight." a small part of her wished they had; but then the children would be fatherless. and while her disdain toward her cousin was strong, children needed a father. 

"he waits your call. wishes to see his children." she hummed. the man had been posted in the timber, lingering in the shadows. and blackfell, her kill-brother...

she exhaled a sigh. "blackbird has left. further north, toward the glacier. i am...sorry, my queen." she knew the news would be met with heavy heart, and not even she could shield star-woman from it.

star eater listens, the fur along her spine bristling, though not from anger—no, it is something more resigned. her world is changed, split in two, yet she has barely stepped beyond the confines of the den. it is a prison of her own making, a necessary one, built of warmth and milk and the rhythmic breath of her children. she clings to it, to the sanctuary it offers, but the world outside does not wait. it never does.
her husband is fine. blackfell is gone.
at least there is no blood, she exhales, shaking her head. she had expected worse. prepared for it. she should feel relief, and yet... she wonders where he has gone. what force pulled him away, what tether was not strong enough to keep him here. gjalla.
her lips press into a firm line. she had always known this was a possibility. she had seen the way gjalla looked at him, the way she carried herself like a woman who had already made her choice. it complicates things. she would do anything to keep black hawk here—gjalla, too—but she could not hold back the tide.
her voice is quieter when she speaks again. what of you? her gaze sharpens, piercing, seeking. i will do anything i can to keep you here, as i would gjalla. but her heat... she trails off, knowing black hawk would understand. it will take her somewhere i cannot follow.
but hawk... hawk is here. and hawk is hers.

star-woman is wounded by this, and something twists inside black hawk. she could not fix that pain, as she had been apart of it. her kill-brother had whispered into her ears, beguiled her to walk along a war path. and her cousin? a bastard that knew nothing of the power not only women carried, but his wife. a queen. she had been a catalyst, just as blackfell had. and it wounds her with guilt.

but she stood with her decision and the words she had spat. she could not change what had happen, but only tailor the outcome. star-woman asked of where she stood. she wishes she could give a confident answer. her betrayal to cen would not be so easily disregarded. it was not something to be swept under the rug, never to be touched on again.

he would reveal his ire in time. and black hawk would have to face it alone. sun-eater did not scare her, but what he would decide to do with her did. if she was banished, she could not protect star-woman and the cubs suckling at her breast. a storm is hidden within hawk's gaze, her brows pinched with thought.

"i am not going anywhere." she promised. even if she had to fight tooth and claw, spill her own blood or cen's...nothing would tear her away. not without a fight, at least. "cen is angry. i do not know what he wishes of me, or my standing in saatsine." she exhaled a weary sigh. "but i will not leave easily. i serve you, my queen. not he."

her eyes fall to the bundles of fur at her queen's belly. "i serve them." if gjalla were to leave, star-woman would not be alone.

star eater's jaw tightened.
black hawk had always been steadfast, a warrior carved from ice and stone, but this—this was a wound that ran deep. not only for her, but for star eater as well. betrayal had come in many forms, had twisted its claws through the very foundation of what they had built.
and black hawk had played her part.
i must believe he would, too.
the words were measured, but something raw lingered beneath them, an ache she had not yet allowed herself to name. sun eater was not a man of softness, of forgiveness, but he was a man of duty. he would not cast aside his own flesh without reason. he would not let his kingdom crumble beneath the weight of vengeance.
but she could not afford to assume.
i cannot afford false choices, black hawk. this you must understand.
her gaze was unyielding, holding the weight of the decision she had already made. her voice was firm, though laced with the quiet grief of what had been lost. she did not speak of the choices black hawk had made, the paths she had walked, the loyalties she had wavered between.
but she did not have to.
black hawk knew.
the storm in her eyes, the tension in her frame—it was all there, bare, exposed. she feared not the man, but the consequences of his wrath. not for herself, but for what she would leave unguarded.
star eater exhaled slowly, the words settling between them like the first snowfall of winter—cold, certain, unshaken by the winds that would follow.
good.
she did not offer comfort, nor did she offer condemnation. black hawk had made her choice, and so had she.
her gaze fell to the small, helpless figures curled against her belly.
serve them well, then.

her heart swelled and ached. a pain she had not felt since the loss of her band. a loss she thought put to rest, when she had buried them one by one. and in a way, this feels worse. because star-woman is still here. 

breathing life into her children. the spawn hawk's kin, the one she'd betrayed. she hadn't meant to betray star eater, too. her head hung heavily, her shoulders slumping with a grief she wishes she could mask better. 

there is no softness in star-womans voice. not as she'd once spoken with. black hawk despises it. 

but she cannot hide. the damage has been done, and now...now she feels like she's losing the woman she had just gotten. had just sworn to stand beside, through storm and war. 

"if he lets me stay..." came her voice. dull, quiet, hoping. "i will be yours to command. if you will have me." and if she wished to rid of her? 

that would be another loss she would mourn in silence. but she would hold through with her pledges and her promises. and if needed, she would bend the knee to the man undeserving. 

"i will be theirs, too. always."

star eater did not hesitate.
he will let you stay.
her voice was steady, firm—a statement, not a hope. she had not fought to bring this world into being only to see it shattered by the weight of old wounds. sun eater was a man of duty. of legacy. he would not throw away a warrior so loyal to his blood.
but her cause had been betrayed.
black hawk had not meant to wound her, but she had. and star eater was not the woman she had once been. the softness black hawk searched for had been stripped from her like flesh from bone.
her gaze swept over the tawny and dark-furred woman, reading every line of sorrow etched into her form. regret. shame. an unyielding devotion, even now.
black hawk would follow her. serve her. bend the knee if it came to that.
star eater did not want her knee. she wanted her spine.
she stepped forward, slow, deliberate, until their breaths mingled in the cold. then be mine.
the words were not spoken in gentleness, but in command. she would not carry a weak heart in her ranks.
be theirs. her gaze flicked to where the children lay nestled in the warmth of the den. stand beside me, as you swore you would.
or do not stand at all.

star-womans words were not spoken with the warmth, but with conviction. spoken like a queen would. a command that her soldier, her knight in black hawk would obey. 

had she not the power over her to demand such? hawk was at her will, her mercy. her loyalty had always been her greatest strength. 

but now, it may be her folly. 

she gathers herself, expression of hurt and shame morphing into a soldiers determination. reset, falling back into the role she had originally taken. star-woman's warmth would be missed, but she could not afford to dwell on niceties. 

she'd been given a job, a purpose. "as you command, my queen." came her reverent, resolute response. she would not fail her again.

fade?