Herbalists' Cache run, rabbit, run

listen carefully, ishmira.
morwenna’s voice was not unkind, but it was firm—unyielding as the ice outside their shelter. she moved forward, her body heavy with exhaustion, with blood that had dried into the pale fur of her chest, with the scent of battle still clinging to her like smoke. her bones ached. her heart ached. but she did not break. she could not break.
she lowered herself beside the children, nudging each one, counting them as if she had not left them, as if they had not been abandoned while she went to summon a storm that would change all their lives. her gaze flickered back to ishmira, finding the glistening blue of her eyes.
war is here.
it was not a question. it was not a warning. it was a fact, one written in the blood upon her coat, in the wrath curling in blackfell’s voice, in the way the wildling had stood with him at dawn, prepared to bring the tundra to ruin.
gjalla lives. but the glacier wolves are angry. blackfell is angry.
and he had every right to be. she had called for this.
she inhaled, slow, deep, and the words felt like stone upon her tongue.
and it was i who called their banners.
she had done this.
her throat tightened, but she did not waver. she had known the moment she stepped upon the glacier, the moment she found her sister bleeding in the snow, that there would be no peace, no quiet end to this. they had taken too much. they had struck at the wrong wolves. and now, there would be war.
her eyes burned into ishmira’s, pleading and commanding all at once.
if the time comes and even i must fight, you will take the children.
the weight of those words settled between them, heavier than any battle call. she knew what she asked. she knew what it would cost the girl. but this was not a choice. this was survival.
i know you want to be there.
ishmira had earned her place beside them, had stood with her and gjalla and black hawk when others had not. morwenna knew what it meant to her, what it would mean to leave. but there were things greater than pride, greater than vengeance.
but i am trusting you with the hope of the future.
her voice softened, the first crack in the iron of her resolve.
do you understand?
this was not a duty given lightly. it was a command, yes, but more than that—it was faith. the most precious thing morwenna had to give.