Herbalists' Cache i do not know my part

star eater listens, the fur along her spine bristling, though not from anger—no, it is something more resigned. her world is changed, split in two, yet she has barely stepped beyond the confines of the den. it is a prison of her own making, a necessary one, built of warmth and milk and the rhythmic breath of her children. she clings to it, to the sanctuary it offers, but the world outside does not wait. it never does.
her husband is fine. blackfell is gone.
at least there is no blood, she exhales, shaking her head. she had expected worse. prepared for it. she should feel relief, and yet... she wonders where he has gone. what force pulled him away, what tether was not strong enough to keep him here. gjalla.
her lips press into a firm line. she had always known this was a possibility. she had seen the way gjalla looked at him, the way she carried herself like a woman who had already made her choice. it complicates things. she would do anything to keep black hawk here—gjalla, too—but she could not hold back the tide.
her voice is quieter when she speaks again. what of you? her gaze sharpens, piercing, seeking. i will do anything i can to keep you here, as i would gjalla. but her heat... she trails off, knowing black hawk would understand. it will take her somewhere i cannot follow.
but hawk... hawk is here. and hawk is hers.