Herbalists' Cache life feels worse, but good with you in it

gjalla feels the miss like a shock of cold water, but she does not stumble nor falter. hawk is quick, and it sends a violent pulse of thrill through her veins, spurring her to push harder, faster.

she pivots sharply, the momentum of her lunge redirected into a second assault. this time she does not feint; she drives into Hawk like a battering ram, muscles singing with strain as she aims to slam her shoulder into the thicker woman’s side. knock her off balance. rip the control from her grasp.

hawk is solid, as unyielding as stone. gjalla feels it the moment their bodies clash, the resistance, the strength hidden beneath that cool, effortless composure. the weight of her anger drives her to push, teeth bared, a low snarl tearing from her throat.

yet, in the heat of it, she notices it too. that wandering gaze. hawk’s hesitation. it makes her snarl, brows knitted from more than their fight.

“you're distracted,” she spits through clenched teeth, still driving forward, still shoving. “don’t not be. fight me.” her rage demands a fight worthy of her wrath, and she would tear it from hawk by force if she had to.