Herbalists' Cache the promise

dated for midnight march 6. puppies will not post yet— i'd like to call all the ladies of saatsine: @Gjalla @Black Hawk @Nagruk @Other Shore @Nutuyikruk @Ishmira @Meleeys to post once before hand; optional, you don't have to!

the snow rages outside. thick, blinding, endless. the sky has fallen upon them. night has drawn its heavy curtain, sealing the world in shadow, and still the flakes come, hissing as they pile against the shelter’s walls.
star eater stumbles inside, breath tearing ragged from her throat. her belly, swollen with the chieftain's harem, aches with every step—tightening, burning. her legs shake beneath her, and when the caribou furs finally catch her, she collapses into them with a sound that is not pain, not quite—rage.
the day’s ruin spins behind her closed eyes. the argument, the insults, the snapping teeth of men who thought themselves gods and kings while her body became the battlefield for life itself. how dare they? how dare they?
her lips peel back, a snarl, a sob, all at once. and then—she throws her head back, drawing in the coldest breath the night has to offer, and howls.
a sound long and raw, shaking the very marrow of the snow shelter. desperate. commanding. a summons meant for women alone.
she calls for them. for the ones with steady paws and sharper minds. the ones who know what it is to be torn apart and still rise from the bloodied earth.
gjalla is already there. of course she is.
gjalla, star eater pants, pushing herself halfway upright, clutching at the swell of her belly as another ripple of pain carves through her. bring them. all of them. anyone who can stand. i need their hands.
the wind howls back at her from outside, battering the shelter with icy fists, but the fire inside her burns hotter still.
we will do this without them, she spits, venom for the men who warred while the children turned within her. as women always have.
the night is long, the storm unforgiving. but star eater steels herself, jaw set, ears pressed back against her skull.
blood of my blood,
she will not face it alone.