Herbalists' Cache sleeping mist

gjalla had been watching long before sun eater called for her. had been watching since the first bite of tension, since the first challenge slithered into their voices, coiling tight and hot and inevitable. she was waiting like a vulture waited for its prey to die.

she steps forward now, parting from slowly-rejuvenating brush to join the trio. she does not stand beside him, and she would sooner die than stand behind him. she had seen it from the earliest, he had always hinted at it. his view of women. and yet, when his life is threatened, who does he call to?

funny man. foolish man.

when gjalla moves, it is to blackfell’s side. her gaze is cold and cutting, pale as the ice beneath their feet. "do not invoke my name as if i stand with you, chieftain." the word is deliberate, mocking, laced with venom, for he is unfit. she saw it before, his uncertainty and insecurity, and she sees it now. her tail is high, the set of her ears forward, unflinching in the face of whatever storm he might summon. they would weather, and it would take nothing out of them. "you embarrass yourself."

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forgive me ebony... twas fun while it lasted..