Herbalists' Cache When the levee breaks

He wilted like a frostburnt flower beneath her touch, as if he was undeserving of such tenderness. He felt himself teetering on the cusp of complete meltdown, but held his breath and pressed his temple into her shoulder as he reined himself in. Little relapses like this were potent, but fleeting; he could only suppress his grief for so long before it poked out, like a beam of light beneath a doorframe. 

His paw flexed at her touch, digging claws into the bedding beneath him, before it softened. He inhaled, and when he breathed again, he felt a mix of both resignation and relief. I will, he said quietly. Tell me who I can trust....Who is faithful to you? he asked quietly. If there were names among the exiled, he would need to know, if they returned. 

Until then, he would remain as he was: Ridgeback, of the Saatsine. A facilitator of peace, for however long it would last. 

And protector of the heirs, born amid such tumultuous times. For them, he hoped life would only yet improve. How fortunate they were to be deaf to the struggles of their mother, and to be blind to the bloodshed that might come. To learn their names would bestow upon him more responsibility and duty- and yet, it was a sacrifice that he would make most willingly, and with a faint smile. I wanna know them. Start with which one's gonna end up being my favourite. he prompted; a shard of humour to light the dark times.