Herbalists' Cache wooden doll

she does not argue, though her heart yearns to have him closer when the time comes. but this is the way. the lanzadoii way. the saatsine way. the way of men who are made to survive, and women who are made to bear the weight of life and death alike.
star eater leans into him, brushing her muzzle against his jaw, lingering there as if trying to memorize the shape of him beneath the coarse black fur. then we will do it as it has always been done, she murmurs, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. you will stay near enough to hear their cries, and when you see their faces... you will give them names strong enough to shake the bones of the mountain.
her tail sweeps gently over the snow as she pulls back to study him. the man who had put her back together. the man who would never watch her break. and i will make sure they know their father is the fiercest thing the tundra has ever birthed.
she inhales, slow and deep, and the wind carries their mingled scents over the snow. her belly shifts with the life inside her, a reminder of how near the time has come.
rest when you can, husband, she says, voice softer than it had been all day. your work begins when mine is finished.
and with one last kiss pressed into the curve of his neck, she turns toward the snow shelter, leaving behind only the softest glance over her shoulder, as if to say—
we will be waiting for you.