Herbalists' Cache homecoming

he spoke of her people as if they were nothing but the dirt beneath his feet. she laughed, humorless and cruel. "do you forget, blackfell, that those wildlings invited you into our fucking home?" she spat. venomous, biting. "as if you were our own!"

he was allowed to play in their wilds, allowed to convene with their children. allowed to fucking march around as if he owned the place, too. and the sickest part? 

she'd considered him family, once. a brother she'd never had, but always wanted. and now he treats her as if she's a stranger. her stomach coils and churns with bile, with betrayal. she will never forget and she will never fucking forgive, not like this. 

not if he was bull-headed enough, just like his father, to run from what he'd done wrong. from the "friend" he hurt. from the little girl he left alone, wishing for him to return so they could play as kids once again. 

before she could snap at his mangled face once more, his weight from her had been lifted. he was barreled by another woman—strong in her own right, looking as if she'd stepped from a storm cloud. 

svalla doesn't hesitate to spring to her feet, hackles raised, lips curled into an ugly snarl. tail risen and shoulders squared, readying to lunge at his fucking throat. but that woman is what stopped her. she spat, ivory claws digging into the earth. 

they reeked of one another. she knew then, that they were lovers. is that why he'd left? to chase a woman? 

the beast has been muzzled by his lover. she almost laughed at how stern of a chain this woman had on blackfell. 

"tell me where to find him." she snapped again. her patience, practically nonexistent, wearing oh so thin.