Herbalists' Cache white flag

why she not fight beside?

hmph. he grunts. i ask myself the same thing.

blackfell's eyes seem to narrow. he is just as confused by it, his mind had fought relentlessly to figure it out. when he could not, he gave up—resigned himself to anger. a residual pattern that did not stop, only continued to twist. twisting like a blade in his gut.

who was woman?

blackbird's lips set into a firm line. before, there was no reason to unveil he knew who she was. but being directly asked, he could think of no reason to hide her identity. to protect her? he'd scoff—he had no reason to protect her. his bitterness emboldens him as he grumbles in response: svalla. she comes from far, far north, past where i hail from. it is months of traveling.

his tail lashes once, as he is consumed by putrid thoughts. he would lay it all out for sun eater, some act of placing faith in the man, and hearing morwenna's words in his head. i would visit her clan often as a cub. it is where darukaal's chieftain comes from—my cousin. she came to find him—but she found me. he laughs sardonically, feeling his muscle twitch; he gnashes his teeth, tsking before imparting a breath to continue his tale.

she says that i abandoned her. i say that i became a man and no longer wanted to play chase. it was fucking childish! gjalla has never met the woman in her life. he leaves out the detail of gjalla escorting svalla to darukaal, like some premium taxi service—instead of defending the man who she was meant to marry!