Herbalists' Cache i work so much, can't be reminded

backdated to march 1st!

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the sun has barely crested the horizon, and gjalla is already moving. she hasn’t stopped—not really—not since the fight. the exhaustion clings to her bones, but she grits her teeth and keeps pushing. the more she works, the less she has to think. the less she has to feel.

she moves with a singular purpose, and that in itself still feels undefined. her stride is dragging, tired from exertion, but she does not slow. not even when the exhaustion starts to bite.