Herbalists' Cache rook's rest

“I’m finding it’s a rare thing in the North,” comes Ayovi’s wry reply. The ego of both man and woman had proven as temperamental as their season’s blizzards. But it felt good to smile, even if in irony.
“May I?” She asks Star Eater before peering deeper into the den. The pups are so small in their mustered dreamings— are newborns always so tiny and she’d merely forgotten? They seemed so breakable, like a wind alone could fell them. And the world was filled with much more than wind. Ayovi counts four heads in various shades of ebony and ice. “They are beautiful,” she grins, a true one.
“You will take them into the South?” She asks, turning back to the mother then. “You know Darukaal and Saatsine. Do you think the clans are capable of talking terms?”
The huntress did not take Faust nor Blackfell as men to negotiate, and Sun Eater desired his own bloodlust. But looking upon the newborn lives Ayovi seeks Star Eater’s mind all the same.