Herbalists' Cache When the levee breaks

of course i will. her voice was steady, though her heart trembled beneath the weight of his question. of course she would run, if she had to. of course she would protect them. what kind of mother—what kind of woman—would she be if she didn’t?
but the world was not kind, not soft. she had known that since the moment she clawed her way into it. there were no guarantees, no promises carved into the bones of fate that assured their safety. only the choices she made, the wolves she trusted, the steps she took to ensure they lived.
you will come with me, won’t you?
it was not a plea. not a demand. but a quiet, unshaken expectation. he was hers as much as they were his. he would not abandon her, right?
i do not know if such a place exists, she admitted, ears folding slightly. somewhere without war. somewhere safe.
evenspire had never been safe. not truly. not for her. and even if it had been, what remained of it now?
but i will go where i must.
she breathed in, steadying herself, looking at ridgeback—not just as a friend, but as something more now. a tether. an anchor.