Herbalists' Cache prayer of the stars

star eater hums, the sound low and velvety, something only meant for them. her eyes, half-lidded and drowsy from the weight of exhaustion, still find black hawk’s face with startling clarity. there is something... terribly easy in the way she looks at her. terribly dangerous, too. the way her tail flicks softly at her side. the way her shoulders lean, just a fraction, into the warmth of her companion.
you are warm, she whispers, as if the words are secret. as if saying them aloud might ruin them. a truth spoken like a prayer. star eater had not known the tenderness of another woman in a long time. not like this, not steady and enduring, not without expectation. and for the first time in many moons, she finds no desire to raise her guard.
when black hawk’s nose grazes her shoulder, star eater's ears flick once, betraying her pleasure. she exhales softly through her nose, capturing the scent of her in the same, quiet moment. her touch is fleeting, but star eater already feels the loss as keenly as if she'd been abandoned to the cold.
she rises then, slow and careful of her belly. snow brushes her ankles as she moves ahead, but not too far.
come, she says, gentle as dawn. we’ll sit where the wind can’t find us. her gaze lingers over her shoulder, inviting, knowing black hawk will follow. tonight, they need no titles. only warmth, only company.

fade?