Herbalists' Cache poison arrow

Her call to arms is met with silence, is met with teeth! Nagruk's own bare to the spiderling, but she does not strike. For she realises in her greed for power that none here respect her. None would follow her charge on Gjalla and Blackfell - they would rather watch their Chieftain die. To value kin over blood, over strength; that is the caribou hunter's flaw, and she despises it.

Tikigâk is at her side now and speaking what Nagruk has been thinking. "Not Tartok, never be Tartok," she repeats. "Cowards!" This time she spits in the twisted face of the man who approaches. All three would stay, all three would die with Issitoq. 

And what is her power anyway? War Chief means nothing; it is just a title without weight. Nagruk could not lead and would not fight his battle, would not hunt the woman marked for death despite her grudge for Blackfell. She forgets she has only ever been a soldier, she forgets herself and her name. She forgets what she desires.

She forgets no longer.

"We go." Bristling, she brushes past Tikigâk in search of Kukuvrak's trail.