Herbalists' Cache prayer of the stars

star eater smiles, warm and slow, as if the very mention of her children stirs the heat beneath her ribs. yes… excited. and tired, she admits with a breathy laugh, her tail giving a lazy sway behind her. the days feel long now. but soon, they’ll be here. and then the real work begins.
she glances sidelong at black hawk, studying her in that quiet, thoughtful way star eater often does—curious about the woman who has come so far to stand among them. it is good to have you. the lanzadoii feel stronger with your steps among us. and she means it, too. there’s a steadiness to black hawk, a weight that seems to anchor the air around her.
when the woman draws to her side, ready to match her slow, careful pace, star eater leans gently into her for a moment—just enough to show she welcomes the company, appreciates it more than words might convey. you’ll stay for the birth? she asks, softly, a flicker of something hopeful in her voice. it’s... good luck, you know. to have a hawk watching over newborns.
a playful glint finds her eyes, but the truth sits beneath it, calm and steady as the snow underfoot. come, she murmurs, motioning ahead with a nod. walk with me. tell me of the others you left behind.