Herbalists' Cache hoof cache

blackfell lifts his head, chin high, eyes like garnet shards in the winter light. voice a candlelight against the dark of his anger: i told her it was none of her fucking business—and it was not.

he stalks, pacing, his movements sharp, restless. a habit he has never been able to break, one that has haunted him since childhood—an outlet for his anxieties, his frustrations, his fucking rage. every few steps, his head snaps to her. he exhales sharply through his nose, a sharp huff of breath curling in the cold, and continues.

a girl i was friends with long ago came. she attacked me. accused me of abandoning her. a wildling from the northern clans. his teeth click as his jaw tenses, his voice rough with disbelief, with scorn. she was gone to her insanity. and gjalla— his breath shudders, his shoulders coil with frustration, the memory of it sparking fresh resentment in his chest. she tackled me!

the words leave him like a growl, his hackles bristling with the force of his fury.

as if i was the insane one! i could have killed them both!