Herbalists' Cache just like you

anoré thinks of her own. of tiny mouths, wide eyes, and the wild fury of a mother’s love. of all she’d lost and all she still had.
there was a strength in the bonds women formed. so when qupirruarjuit requests for her presence, she concedes.
limbs fold, spine curves, and her breath spills out in a soft sigh as she lies into the plush grass. a moment passes. then, without words, she shifts—just slightly—to leave room at her side.
a place at her flank for the she-wolf to take.