Herbalists' Cache song of time

suliya’s hackles flare, heat spiking sharp beneath her pale fur. the words bite—traitor—and yet she stands her ground, jaw tightening as she watches the elder woman tear at the earth.

i want to be muradoii, she repeats, firmer now, like stone laid upon stone. her voice does not waver. her blood burns for it. why else would she be here? why else would she stay by sivaak’s side, scraping out the frozen dirt, braving the weight of that sharp tongue?

her tail flicks, ears pinning.

i am not my mother.

it’s the only defense she gives. the only one she feels she needs.

then, with a grunt, she stoops and begins to dig beside sivaak. rough, strong sweeps of her forelimbs, claws carving deep into the snow-packed soil. they work in tandem.

your pups will have me. like sister, she adds after a long silence, quieter, but with the same iron behind her voice. i prove it.