Herbalists' Cache hoof cache

his mind is elsewhere. gnawing at the marrow of his thoughts: gjalla. svalla. the fight that still burns in his bones. the words she spat like venom, the way he turned away. pride and anger battle within him, neither willing to yield.

and then—morwenna against the snow.

blackfell keeps his course, but his ruby red eyes flick to her briefly. his raven, perched on his shoulder, lifts its wings and lets out a shrill, rasping caw as they pass.

blackfell does not acknowledge her. not with words. not with anything more than the briefest glance. he just keeps walking.