Herbalists' Cache white flag

blackfell laughs.

again.

this time, it is more hollow. i asked her this not too long ago. he says, voice still warm with the bubble of his angry laughter. she says it is because men will never follow the word of a woman. and perhaps that is true. it certainly was not true for blackfell, but for a man like sun eater? he looks at his face, trying to gauge his reaction.

he does not like this: recounting memories he did not wish to dredge up, all in name of loyalty. but it was not loyalty to morwenna with which he now spoke. no, he betrayed her now. perhaps it was revenge—ill-timed, but revenge all the same.

she had not chosen him, once. then she had let him be uprooted. did he still harbor ill-feelings for her? yes... they were not so easily forgotten, nor forgiven. but he told himself it was just this: she asked he get to know her husband. a loyal hound, he listened. he abides. the first step to any sort of kinship was honesty and sun eater asked the truth of him.

it was how he justified this letting of truth.

i did not come for your wife. and that is the cold truth as he knew it. i came for gjalla. i stayed for gjalla. he pauses, and stops entirely in his tracks. but now i speak your tongue. now i hunt your caribou. i have spilled blood in your name. i do not stay just for her anymore. and it is just now he realizes this.