Herbalists' Cache change my mind so much I can't find it

gjalla did not like the way he pressed. 

she knew it was his right—of course it was—but that did not mean she had to fucking like it. the muscle in her jaw flexed, grinding her teeth. nothing happens in sun clan is personal. yeah, okay.

she could have argued. could have told him that it was personal, that it had nothing to do with saatsine, that he should fuck off—but she swallowed it down. she knew better than to fight where there was no ground to win. 

instead, she sat stiffly, watching the herds. the fawns were new to the earth, their legs unsteady, their coats still holding the softness of birth.

Then he spoke again. offered her a place at his side when saatsine left to rake through their enemy. an opportunity to sink her teeth into something real, to tear through something that was not the fragile remnants of her pride. it was like a gift. it was not a decision he had to give her. he could have simply commanded her path, and yet.

she knows she should not go, not without fixing things—or attempting to—with blackfell, to repair whatever bond they had. and yet.

sun eater served her an outlet for everything she bottled on a silver platter. "i go with you," she said at last, voice firm. there was no hesitation now, no doubt. the call of war was a balm to a wounded pride, and she was not yet so foolish as to let it slip through her grasp.