Herbalists' Cache futurama

a wound she cannot see tears open inside her, raw and aching. 

gjalla does not break easily—she had weathered storms, stood against death and lived still, had stood unshaken beneath the weight of loss. but this? it is a grief she cannot explain, and she hates it. hates how morwenna was the only wolf to find it. it strikes something deep, something tender and fiercely guarded. 

morwenna’s words sit heavy in her chest, pressing against her ribs, threatening to steal the air from her lungs. she does not look away, cannot look away from the hurt in her friend’s eyes. it is a quiet thing, but gjalla has always known how to read between the silences. after living in them, it became easy.

"wenna…" the name is an exhale, unsteady. "i would." that was the plan! she would be there. she should be there!

and yet, when she was swelling with heat, she had chosen differently. she clenches her jaw, teeth grinding as she looks away, staring into the pale horizon as if it might offer her answers. it does not. 

"forgive me, i—" a pause to collect herself, "you know i would never leave you alone, mo." her voice is hoarse, ragged around the edges. "i am with you, always. your mother, your elders, they lend you their strength." surely, after all she shared with the woman, there was some faith shared there.

her breath shudders, and for a moment, she wishes she had never answered sun eater's call. wishes she could undo the distance, the choice, the aching space between them. "tell me what you want, you know i will do it."