Herbalists' Cache prayer of the stars

her ear flicks toward black hawk, curiosity piqued as the name falls from her tongue. cen? she repeats softly, tasting it as if to commit it to memory. ah. so that is his name. a slight smile ghosts across her muzzle, pleased to have a piece of the man who had brought black hawk into their fold. i did not know. only sun eater.
the admission makes her feel almost small, in a way she rarely does—humble, touched that black hawk would share such a piece of herself so easily. her ribs swell with quiet pride as their sides brush, the contact sending a ripple of warmth through her. i do not think myself much of a hunter these days, she murmurs, voice tinted with mirth. two moons now since i felt the chase beneath my paws. i fear i may grow soft.
but it feels good to walk beside her. safe. comfortable in a way star eater has not known with another woman in some time. the vow black hawk makes is met with a soft, almost reverent hum, and star eater’s gaze lowers as she murmurs, thank you.
the words feel heavier than they should, as though they are pulled from somewhere deep, deep within her chest. it eases me. knowing someone as strong as you will stay. her eyes lift, seeking the woman’s face as they walk, admiration there like a gentle tide. they will be glad to have you near. as will i.