Herbalists' Cache wooden doll

star eater’s eyes flickered to the gift, ears pricking as she took in the skull, the rich scent of ptarmigan eggs mingling with the warmth of caribou brain. her tail gave a small, eager wag—a treat.
without hesitation, she bent her head and ate, tearing into the meal with an appetite all-consuming. her hunger was a fire that could not be doused, and she cared little for appearances in the presence of her husband. he had brought this for her. he had thought of her.
when the skull was picked clean, she licked her lips, finally shifting her attention to the words that had accompanied the offering.
wolves of the moon? she echoed, lifting her gaze to him now, following the motion of his gesture. her eyes lingered on the place where his injury marked him, the maiming that had been done. his pride wounded with it.
the girl.
her expression darkened, and she exhaled sharply, licking a stray smear of blood from her muzzle.
she is timid. a pause, calculating. useful in many things, but not strong.
her tongue clicked against her teeth as she considered the weight of his words—the girl for the one who had done this.
her husband, avenged.
i would like to see it done, she admitted, voice smooth but edged. if she can be traded for the one who maimed you, then so be it.
her loyalty, unwavering. her decision, final.