Herbalists' Cache song of time

suliya says nothing at first. only flicks an ear, flattens them next. the wind bites through her fur, but the work warms her as she slips into the place sivaak left. digging deep. pulling snow and dirt with strong shoulders, hoarfrost clinging to her whiskers.

everdark, she finally says, voice low, more to the earth than to sivaak. mother told me stories. women make songs in glacier. drown weak pups for better keep.

she doesn’t pause the digging, only snorts through her nose, breath curling in silver ribbons. men swim to glacier. impress women. then leave.

the words taste bitter. not because she doesn't believe them, but because she does. because she's thought of them many times, wondering which side of the story her mother truly belonged to.

suliya lifts her chin toward sivaak then. what do you know? a sharp, sideways grin. you stay. didn’t swim. didn’t leave.

snow flies from her paw as she works, steady, tireless. the work is good. it distracts from the ache in her chest.