Herbalists' Cache hoof trap

her breath trembles beneath his touch, soft and steadying, as though his warmth alone might anchor the frayed edges of her heart. sun eater had been the constant where so little else had endured. and though his hands, his voice, his rule could sometimes weigh heavy, star eater had always been loyal to a fault—if nothing else.
her gaze softens as he speaks of gjalla, of the blood she had spilled in her name. her tail gives a faint flick. reassuring not just him, but herself. and i would see her lead, if the spirits will it. she has earned the right to try.
but she does not press further. it soothes him to hear she wanted only women near, and so she lets him believe that. lets him have his peace in the notion that her circle, tight and small, held no threat to him.
her gaze falls fondly to where his nose brushes her belly, to the tender press of his lips. a breath leaves her, slow and quiet, threading through the chill. they will know loyalty, she agrees, voice little more than a whisper. because i have known it. because we have built it.
her head tilts, the faintest smile ghosting over her tired features as she studies him. a clan of blood. a clan of spirit. a clan of name, she hums. but first, a clan of loyalty.
and it is for him. for them. for these small, unseen lives shifting beneath her ribs.
and still, as her gaze lingers on him, there is something unspoken in her eyes—a question unasked.
would loyalty be enough?