Herbalists' Cache cen

morwenna's order is all the woman needed. keep them at bay. she would try her best, or she would die fighting; and she could only pray that ishmira, other shore, and her queen would make it out alive. with no fear in her heart and only the age-old call of battle; she struck. launching herself from her statuesque hold to soar at meleys. she would made do of her promise; she would rip the woman's tongue from her fucking jaws. 

her snarl is a guttural thing. untamed, filled with her wrath. her vision tunneled and targeted on her prey. muscles coil and ripple beneath her cinnamon pelt. jaws opened and only closing when she crashes against meleys, teeth sinking into the flesh of her shoulder. piercing, tearing; she would greedily swallow the blood that rushes past her tongue to flood her throat.

should she die today, she would do so with open arms, as death was a foe she did not fear. but she'd be damned if she wasn't taking one of these lanzadoii with her.