Herbalists' Cache gloom days

he rumbles with approval, past the squelching of guts and gore. blackfell savages, until there is not much more to do. the throat is taken from the man and his body collapses when he is dead weight and no longer able to hold himself up.

death takes him. blackfell watches the life flood from his eyes until they are nothing but gummy life matter, useless now to the dead. black bird is driven, driven with bloodlust, driven with the glory of a sucessful battle. later, he would return to drag this body to the center of the three territories: of winsook, of darukaal, and of the sun clan. they would see. they would know. and it was not any loyalty to sun eater that drove this, but a warning to all who would creep closer. there were women, there were children. star eater was heavily pregnant, and any outsider was now a threat in his eyes. there were even those within that he did not trust—the tartok woman.

his eyes swivel to black hawk, resting upon her as he gasps for air. it is cool, cold air that fills his lungs and nourishes his spent energy. then, a bloody grin, and a paw that outstretches; he bid her to shake, to greet. in her tongue, i am blackfell. but then, or uuts'taa. blackbird. and he turns his gaze to the steaming body, feels his hot blood lap at his paws where he stands and he steps over it. teeth tearing open the sack of his belly and pouring out the sopping, undigested contents.

his raven feasts, and blackbird jerks his head for black hawk to follow as he begins to walk. he must move, the adrenaline that still shakes his muscle demands it.

his voice is heavy now, whispered: i not waste my breath so hear me well. he says. i smell her on you. he gestures to her with his nose, as nostrils flare and he inhales a thick gulp of her scent. there, morwenna. there are threats in this clan. threats that sun eater ignores, and does not see. the woman: nagruk. he stops. turning burning red eyes onto the lanzadoii woman. she is a weasel. she wishes to become war chief, and more. she try strike alliance with me. his lip curls and he scoffs, blowing a bubble of blood from his nostril where it had ringed wet. i do not like sun eater. he do not like me. but i am loyal to his wife, so i am loyal to him. she asks. any threat to sun eater is threat to her.

he turns his head so that only one beady, red orb of malice rests upon her. you have killed with me now. kill with me again. he was firm in his knowledge that he could best the tartok woman himself, on his own, but with an ally in black hawk, perhaps it would be less frowned upon.