Qeya River brother's blood

star eater inhaled, the weight of gjalla’s presence grounding her. she pressed her muzzle into the crook of her sister’s neck, silent for a moment, as if committing the scent of her to memory.
good, she murmured. stay.
it was a command wrapped in something softer. something she would not name.
when she pulled away, er paws found the familiar furs beneath her as she exhaled, willing the last remnants of grief from her chest. she needed to move, to do something with her hands.
would you like to help me? she asked, casting a glance toward the scattered bundles of herbs that lay near the den’s entrance. dried stalks, fresh leaves, roots half-sorted. we need to collect more before the freeze sets in, and i could use another set of eyes.
her tone was light, but there was something in the way she looked at gjalla—an unspoken offering. something to keep their hands busy. something to keep them both here.