Herbalists' Cache hoof trap

star eater’s ears swept back, not from anger, but from something quieter. a disappointment that slid down her spine like cold water. she hums, a low sound curling in her throat as her gaze drifts from sun eater to the pale sky beyond.
you take gjalla? the question is soft, but there is weight to it. a frown ghosts at her lips, delicate but lingering. i thought... she would be here. her eyes narrow faintly, not from malice, but from the ache of expectation unmet. to help with the pups. women's work, no? it is spoken plainly, as one might recite fact. as if she had envisioned her star-sister standing beside her when the time came, her steady presence filling the space between labor and new life.
she breathes through it, steadying the quiet stir of grief rising in her chest. perhaps she had been foolish to assume gjalla would stay. perhaps her heart was always meant to wander.
her gaze slides back to him, steady, unreadable. i suppose you are right. satsine men and women should not fight. harmony keeps the caribou near. she presses a touch of warmth to her words, but it is distant, like a fire seen from far off.
but what of me, then? her head tips, curiosity laced in gold and silk. i do not want stranger women upon the babes. not in that first week. gjalla is... harmony is what they sought, wasn't it? she is my sister. what use could blackfell be?