Herbalists' Cache song of time

suliya pauses, ears flicking back at the sharpness, at the flash of teeth. the response stings more than she'd admit, but her face—her face remains still, unreadable as stone.

you are not contaminating, she says flatly, nose lifting just a touch. it is not defiance, but an assertion. a truth. the lanzadoii pups will breathe the same air as yours. the same snow will fall on their backs.

her gaze drops to the churned snow at sivaak's paws. after a beat, she moves closer, lowering herself without ceremony, starting to dig alongside the older woman. her own claws tear through the frost, swift and practiced.

let me help you. her voice softens, not from submission, but from practicality. the work would go faster together. the ground is hard today.

suliya does not look at her again, but works. silent, steady. proving herself in labor if not in words.