Herbalists' Cache futurama

star eater hums softly, leaning into the warmth of gjalla’s hold as if she might steal some of her steadiness for herself. the thought of gjalla's loyalty, her love, burrows deep—settling somewhere tender that had long been left hollow.
her gaze drifts over the snow, over the shelter she built with trembling paws and too many dreams, before finally tipping back to her sister with a soft smile.
anything, she says, the word falling easily, honestly. her tail curls around her side as she rests her chin atop gjalla's shoulder, as though to anchor herself to the moment. ask me anything, and i will answer.
she waits, patient and unafraid, voice quiet but certain as the wind through the pines.
what sits on your tongue, gjalla? ask it.