Herbalists' Cache rook's rest

morwenna turned to the pale huntress, eyes rimmed with the weight of sleepless nights, yet clear with purpose. she drank in the woman’s whisper like sacred water—saw not just a gesture, but a gift of trust in it. a way forward. a sliver of safety in the storm that gathered around them.
you have my gratitude, she said, voice hushed but unwavering. it was not simply thanks, but a vow laced behind the words.
her gaze drifted, if only for a moment, toward the hidden place where her children slept. and then, to the mountains. she imagined them—vast, still, eternal. she would climb them if she must. die on them, if she must. but her children would not fall to war.
i will remember your words, ayovi, she murmured. and i will not forget the kindness you’ve shown me.
not in this life. not in the next.