Herbalists' Cache ticking time

star eater hums, the sound low and pleasant as she lets the woman continue, letting her teeth sift through the thick fur at her nape. tartok. she turns the name over on her tongue, testing its weight. it is unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.
tartok, she echoes, a breath of consideration. is that where you come from? her voice is soft, inquisitive, but there is a knowing there, as if the answer is already clear.
her gaze follows nagruk’s own, drawn across the tundra to where her husband toils away, his form rigid and purposeful in the distance. there is no jealousy in her tone when she speaks again, only something amused, something indulgent.
he wouldn’t mind. she tilts her head back just enough to glance at nagruk from the corner of her eye. women of saatsine are supposed to be... close. her words are teasing, but they are not a lie. her people are warm, despite the ice in their veins. it is the way of things. and she is a woman who follows the way of things.