Herbalists' Cache hoof trap

her heart softened beneath the weight of him, his gaze, his praise, though her eyes flitted down as if shy of it. the caribou hide settled heavy across her back, but his words heavier still, draping her in something warmer than any fur.
no man has deserved it more, she returned, voice quiet but firm, shaped by the crisp air between them. loyalty, yes—but more than that. reverence. devotion. not just for him, but for what they built, for what they would leave behind.
his kiss lingered on her lips long after he’d pulled away, and star eater searched his face with something tender in her own, as if memorizing the way the snow lit his features, the way the wilderness bowed around them as witness.
they will be lanzadoii, she said, almost in a whisper. of the ice, of the hunt. but they will be ours first.
she leaned into him then, pressing her muzzle briefly to the curve of his throat, breathing him in like she might never get the chance again.
and what greater gift is there, she murmured, than to be taught by the sun himself?