Herbalists' Cache tide bound

star eater watches the way other shore moves, swift and light over the snow, carving a path back to her as though she belonged here. perhaps she did. perhaps she always had.
her body is still heavy with the weight of new motherhood, but she does not let it slow her. she moves from the shelter’s mouth to meet other shore, her presence an anchor amidst the storm of change swirling around them.
i want to let you know what has been going on, she says, her voice quiet but firm. her breath fogs in the cold, but there is warmth in the way she reaches out, brushing her muzzle gently against the younger woman’s shoulder. an instinct, a reassurance.
saatsine has made a great enemy, the words settle into the air like falling snow, slow and heavy. gjalla—my sister—was attacked by my husband. she lives, but she is gone to the glacier. she swallows, pushing past the ache, the anger, the grief. ridgeback and ishmira are sworn to me. black hawk is here. her gaze flickers toward the den, where the children sleep, nestled together, oblivious to the weight pressing upon their mother.
her breath stirs the fur along other shore’s neck as she lowers her voice. they only want him. darukaal, the war chief, they do not come for us. i have done all i can for my husband. his fate is up to the caribou spirits.
a pause. she exhales sharply, her ears pinning back. i will not fight for him. there is steel in her voice now, a finality. but i will fight for them. a glance toward the shelter. toward caan, ghe’naya, c’ede’, fa’liya—her blood, her future. her truth.
i need to know if you stand with me.