Herbalists' Cache into the unknown

open to my babies: @Ghe'naya @Cede @Caan @Faliya

the snow shelter is warm, a cocoon of furs and bodies, filled only with the soft murmurs of women and the delicate whimpers of her newborns. the world outside is frigid, but here, beneath the weight of pelts and the press of her own body, they are safe. they are hers.
she grooms them incessantly, smoothing down tufts of damp fur, licking along their spines, the crowns of their tiny heads. each stroke of her tongue is a vow, a prayer, a whispered promise: i will not fail you. they wriggle blindly, paws kneading against her belly, seeking the warmth of her milk, of her presence. she shifts only when necessary, curling around them like a mother wolf should—no, like a queen.
the women remain near, watchful and reverent, but they know better than to intrude upon the sacred moment. they understand. this is not for men. not for @Sun Eater, who lingers outside, barred from her sanctuary. a punishment. a lesson. a reminder that it is she who commands this space, that it is she who wields the power of life and death within these walls. he has no place here. not yet. not until she allows it.
she exhales slowly, pressing her nose to the smallest of them—the dark one, the mirror of her father. she lingers there, her breath warming his tiny frame, before moving to the others, one by one, counting them with every sweep of her tongue.
four.
four lives.
four stars, burning bright in the cradle of her arms.
and she will not let them go.

sun eater in time out