Herbalists' Cache into the unknown

a hush falls over the snow shelter, broken only by the gentle breaths of the newborns nestled close, the soft shifting of bodies in the warmth of their mother’s embrace. yet, among them, one falters.
her smallest. her frailest.
a pitiful cry, high and thin, barely a whisper against the storm outside, barely more than a breath of life. but she hears it. feels it in her very soul. something fragile, something failing. star eater’s body tightens around her children, instinct lancing through her veins like fire—she will not lose her. she will not.
her paw, careful but firm, presses the tiny child to her belly, cradling her against the swell of warmth and sustenance. the runt writhes, weak and cold, limbs trembling against the weight of the world. she does not have the strength to fight for her place among the others. but she does not need to.
mama is here.
her muzzle dips, breath washing over the damp fur of her daughter’s nape. you will live. the words are not spoken aloud, but they are a vow, an unbreakable force, something carved into the marrow of her bones.
her tongue sweeps across the fragile body, over the trembling spine, over the ribs that feel too sharp beneath her touch. too small. too fragile. but not beyond saving. no, never beyond saving. she curls tighter, protective, demanding. the others will not trample her. will not take what she needs.
the little one whimpers, her mouth blindly seeking, too feeble to latch. star eater does not waver. she holds her daughter there, coaxes her, murmurs in the tongue of her ancestors, a whisper of something ancient and powerful.
ñuha ēlītsos, my darling,
ābrar jāhor, ēza. little nova,
bē issa ñuha jorrāelagon, ñuha gōntan.
her paw shifts, securing the child as she forces her gently but firmly to the teat, another sweep of her tongue urging her to try again. and this time, she does. weak, slow, but she does.
star eater watches, heart thundering, as her daughter drinks, as the tremors wracking her tiny body begin to ease. a fierce, unrelenting love floods her chest, an emotion too strong, too consuming. this one is mine.
fa’liya, she breathes at last, voice thick with devotion. my little light.
and she will make sure that light never goes out.