Herbalists' Cache dewclaw mountain

star eater's smile warmed like sunlight through frost. she tilted her head, watching other shore with a glint of approval, charmed by the girl's carefulness—her reverence. yes, she said softly. they protect. keep the bad omens away. and bring strength to those inside. her gaze shifted to the den, to the hollow where soon her children would take their first breaths. they are the warriors that guard us when we sleep.
she nosed one of the dewclaws toward other shore, inviting her to place it as she pleased. there is no great ritual. no chanting or bleeding. only the work of our paws and the intention we carry. if you place them with care, they will serve. that is enough.
then, almost teasing, her tail flicked. you and i will make this the most sacred den saatsine has ever seen.
her gaze lingered fondly. perhaps, when her time came, this girl would be more than a helper. perhaps other shore would stay at her side when the birthing began. there was something steady about her, something good.
come, she murmured, motioning her forward. we will line the entrance first. the rest will follow.