Herbalists' Cache patience and restraint

morwenna raised her head slightly, regarding him with the quiet intensity of a queen long used to secrets. her brow lifted, a subtle arch that drew attention to the sharpness of her gaze.
ksura, she repeated, as though tasting the name. a slight pause. is that your true name? her voice was soft, velvet over steel. it is lovely. strong. a name, after all, was not a light thing—it was a root, a spine, a banner. and this one suited him.
she shifted, the furs around her rustling gently, the shadows of her snow shelter curling tighter in the low light. a breath passed from her tender lips.
is there any news? she asked then, the question smooth but weighted. there was always news. and she had learned long ago that peace was most often a quiet between storms.