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

gjalla stiffens like a bowstring, recoiling so sharply that her hackles bristle in an instant. the touch is unwelcome—unfamiliar—and she snaps her head back with a warning snarl and the snap of teeth.

"get off,"

the words are carved from ice, laced with the brittle edge of sleepless irritation. she does not know this woman, does not care for her proximity, and certainly does not fucking appreciate the insinuation. 

her glare is flint and fire, daring Nagruk to try again. "my sleep is my own concern." her voice is lower now, still edged, but tempered by exhaustion rather than outright hostility. "if you’re looking for someone to whine to about blackfell, find another."