Herbalists' Cache mud dancer

her pride warred with her duty. he demanded she cower at his feet, and it took everything within her not to snap and snarl and disobey. she was not a woman who kneeled. not to a man. 

but she had no choice. she had to keep telling herself that it was for star-woman and sivaak. and so, she knelt. ears pinned, eyes averted, her lip curled with simmering anger she could not unleash. 

his words are barbs that pierce her hide. he speaks with venom of her kill-brother, and yet, she cannot defend his name. forgive me, blackfell. she does not speak as her cousin rages and spats. 

words that will be absorbed later. dealt with on her lonesome, or perhaps she would have sivaak to soothe her temper. "thank you, cousin," it takes all she has to speak the words and not spit them. like a poison on her tongue, bitter and acrid.  "i will do no wrong. not again."