Herbalists' Cache run, rabbit, run

gjalla lives.

the words pierce ishmira's heart, and she lets loose a soft sob. worry and relief spill from her eyes, falling down her face and wetting her paws. gjalla lives. gjalla lives. that man did not kill her. he could not.

and now drone the drums of war.

her gaze is hard, serious-- a wisdom beyond her years shines in them. she will flee. she will go against every instinct in her body, and she will run when the time comes because morwenna wants her to. she does not know how she will carry all four, how she will escape the bloodshed untouched. only that she must, and she will.

as she gazes down at the babies, the next generation, she feels a kinship to them. they are not hers by blood, but already she knows them as family.

"i understand. i will take them." and she does not speak the words, but morwenna knows that she will die defending them.