Herbalists' Cache When the levee breaks

morwenna’s ears twitched at his words, her breath unsteady as she lowered her muzzle toward her children. they nursed eagerly, blind to the war blooming outside these walls, blind to the ruin of their father.
i was a fool, she admitted, the weight of it heavy on her tongue. shame coiled deep in her chest, a sickness she could not purge. i knew what he was. i applauded his brutality. but only now, when it is against my own, do i weep.
her lips curled in something bitter, a ghost of a laugh with no humor. her chin lifted, gaze burning as she met ridgeback’s eyes.
tell me the truth of him. of how you are here, in saatsine.
she did not know his full story. she had never asked. but she saw him now, clearer than she ever had before. steady. loyal. bound by something more than fealty. and still, here he stood. with her.
i wouldn’t ask something like this lightly. her voice wavered, but she did not look away. only if it comes to it, ridgeback.
only if there was no other way. only if sun eater would not stop. only if this war—her war—demanded it.
her jaw tightened, the muscles in her neck flexing as she swallowed hard. he is well guarded. but you— she exhaled, sharp, certain. they know you.
they would not expect it. they would not see it coming.
her gaze flickered, something breaking in her for just a moment. her children were warm against her belly, their tiny bodies rising and falling in steady rhythm. she had dreamed of peace. of something greater. she had fought for it, had believed in it. had bled for it.
and now?
for them. for peace. it is all i want. all i have ever wanted.
she exhaled, slow, controlled, but her voice cracked. i am sorry.