Herbalists' Cache futurama

morwenna listened, silent and solemn, as gjalla spoke. each word was a blade honed in truth, each syllable carving deeper into the space between them, a space that had once been so vast but now felt like the mere breath of a whisper.
she would know gjalla’s children, just as gjalla would know hers. a promise. an oath. it settled into the marrow of her bones, unshakable. her lips twitched, a soft, knowing curve, but she did not interrupt.
gjalla was fire, raw and untamed, but there was something else beneath—something quiet, something vulnerable, and for a moment, morwenna could see it laid bare. a life unlived, a choice unmade.
her words came quickly, too quickly, and the weight of them lingered in the space between them. if it had been you.
morwenna did not flinch. did not stiffen. only let the words settle where they fell, untouched. she had always known the path she walked would be a lonely one, carved by her own will and no other’s. but had things been different… she did not entertain the thought.
instead, she reached forward, brushing her muzzle against gjalla’s cheek—firm, reassuring, a tether to steady them both.
it is not in us to choose the easy path, she murmured, voice a quiet certainty, only the right one.

fade