Herbalists' Cache song of time

suliya doesn't turn.

her paws work slow, steady, digging into the half-frozen earth as though the marrow of muradoii herself lies buried just beneath the surface. she listens. she always listens. to the wind. to the blood. to sivaak's voice, old as the bones of the mountain.

but when the silence falls, she speaks.

then i’ll drown her.
her voice is quiet. not meek. not broken. quiet like still water with a storm beneath it.

i’ll drown her in the cold. in the dark. until nothing soft is left.
a beat. claws pause mid-dig.
but i’ll remember she gave me teeth first.

now, she turns. frost-bitten eyes meet red ones.