Herbalists' Cache When the levee breaks

she listens, taking in the names he lists, the ones he thinks might be trusted, the ones she must consider. kekoa—he has been loyal, steadfast. ishmira, always gentle and careful with the children. black hawk, fierce and unwavering. but others... others, she does not know. she does not trust.
her ears flick as he looks at ghe’naya, at the small white star upon her forehead. she lets out a breath, something close to a laugh, though it is tired, weighed down by too much grief. she did! she murmurs, nosing softly at the pup’s tiny body, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing. she will be strong.
ridgeback’s voice is warm, playful, something light in the midst of all this heaviness. the whisper, though—she closes her eyes, swallows hard. he speaks of love, of a future where they are safe enough for such things to matter. it is a balm against the ache in her chest. she wants to believe in it, in him.
i miss her, she says, voice quieter now, more fragile than she likes. she does not have to say who—he will know. ice diver. the one who had been at her side when she was first brought to saatsine, who had been one of the few pieces of stability in a life that had been turned upside down. she would know what to do.
she pulls back slightly, blinking at ridgeback, as if searching for something in him. i do not, she admits, though she hates it, hates this uncertainty. but i will do what must be done.