Hungry like the Rancor

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia did not need to be gifted with magick to sense the palpable tension between her and Anjali as she carefully unpacked the pouch. She spent more time setting up the jars and bandages then necessary to delay anything that happened next - be it a word or look shared. Iss-Ka was less temperamental with her, the touch gentle instead of rough like outside. She gave the voritor a crisp nod before one side of her mouth curl upwards in appreciation.

Even with Iss-Ka guarding their dwelling just outside the curtain, Cearia and Anjali were finally alone. She perked up with concern at the escaping sigh her wife allowed. It was all there - the weight of the entire ordeal keenly exhaling to match what the Clan Mother's body must be feeling. Cearia felt it too but remained silent and fought her eyelids from wanting to closed again.

She also fought the urge to stiffen with Anjali's touch, and succeeded, even if Cearia did not squeeze back - eyes fixed on the table instead of her wife while listening. The nod she offered to her wife would be difficult to discern if Cearia agreed with not believing Anjali's words or allowed herself to accept what was said. The continuous turmoil that churned inside her head was answer enough given how Anjali was so sensitive to Cearia's emotions in her exhausted state.

When her wife stepped back, Cearia spared a glance. She felt every fiber of her being wanting to run and find clarity in the wilds like she once had. She was weak, both in body and spirit, to disagree. They both needed to rest and most importantly, Cearia would keep her promise to tend to her wife.

Cearia watched Anjali slowly remove her boots and then reach for her clothing with her good arm. It would be a long process to endure alone, though she knew her wife could manage it.

Before she knew it, Cearia moved to Anjali's side and reached out for the injured arm.

"If it pleases you, Clan Mother ..." Her voice trailed off with deference, carefully supporting her wife's arm as she looped the fabric over it. She then gripped the thin, sleeveless, undershirt by the sides and tugged it free from Anjali's breeches, all with a diverted submissive gaze.

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali had genuinely believed that Cearia's shame and self-deprecation had been mostly obliterated by the time they had pledged themselves to each other during their wedding ceremony. She had come to understand she had misjudged how deeply rooted these issues were for her wife. She had felt at a loss about how to address them. She had said her piece more than once; but she had felt it only burdening Cearia more, much to her dismay.

The Clan Mother had no plan to give up on her bond to the huntress. She had been dead serious when she had expressed her interest in the other Night Sister; and she took the oath she had taken to be hers until death parted them very seriously. Regardless of trials, and however she needed to figure out how to help Cearia help herself, she would be by her wife's side.

She wasn't naive and was well aware that arguments and fights were likely over the situation on hands; but she didn't fear. Her wife's stubbornness and misplaced shame angered her, and could even bring her anguish when she felt at a loss about what to do; but she had faith in their bond. She believed they could overcome, no matter how long it would take.

It was also why she had so far postponed her desire to continue the Raskor line; for she wanted Cearia to be involved in her choice of breeder, and later during her pregnancy; but the huntress was already overwhelmed enough with all the great changes in her life; so Anjali had decided to wait. She was still young enough it was a non-issue.

She couldn't tell by her wife's body language how she took her words; but being more vulnerable to Cearia's emotional turmoil due to her exhaustion gave Anjali all answers she needed for the time being.

She had thought the huntress would simply undress and get rest, which was why she was taking care of her own clothing for now. She was genuinely surprised when her wife approached her and assisted her. While she was touched by the attention, being addressed by her title, and witnessing the displayed submissiveness didn't make her happy. This was about enough for her to draw from the last drops of energy she had to pick a fight.

"Thank you, Cearia. I appreciate it," she replied in a neutral tone.

While part of her was riled up at the whole thing; she also refused to turn her chiorikem away when she offered to help, even when it appeared her wife was behaving as a servant rather than as her beloved.

[Cearia Tserta]

It would have been too easy for the use of the hunter's name to snap her out of this passive stupor as the undershirt fell to the floor. Though there was a moment as fingers went to the laces of Anjali's breeches that she was brought back to the night of their joining when her touches were tentative and unsure, instead of stiff and callous. She swallowed the lump in her throat when for a brief moment her fingers turned gentle as they passed along the curve of Anjali's hips, tugging the material down ...

She shook the memory away and chanced a look at the Clan Mother's face. The strong voice that had shouted her wife's name in the forest, fueled by protective instincts in seeing Anjali injured, was now small and exposed. "Please sit so I can remove this ..."

[Anjali Raskor]

This moment was a far cry from previous times shared in their quarters. Such memories felt as if they belonged to another lifetime; but Anjali still fought to maintain the last glimpses of energy to be quiet and let her wife help her. Being sucked back into the past, being angry over the present, or fretting over the future, all required more focus than the Clan Mother had left.

Her eyes briefly met her wife's as the huntress asked her to sit down to make her task easier. She nodded and carefully did as requested.

"I will keep my wraps on. In case an emergency happened, it would be difficult to throw something on in a hurry," she explained.

She had obviously no modesty issue around her beloved; but given her injury, she preferred being safe than sorry. Of course, she truly hoped that she would be able to rest for long hours before anything or anyone required her attention.

[Cearia Tserta]

"A wise idea," she said before going to a knee. "Hopefully nothing will bother us like before I le-"

Cearia's brow furrowed together and quashed past memories and thoughts from distracting her as Anjali was freed from the rest of the clothing. She tossed the breeches with the undershirt and immediately worked on removing her weapons. Bow and quiver were hung up on the stone wall by chiseled stone pegs near the bed and with a sigh, Cearia unbuckled her weapon belt and let it drop on the table, metal daggers and knives hitting the wood with numerous thunks.

She was irritated that her long coat was destroyed in the pursuit of the rancors, but it would be replaced with the game that her hunters had brought back today. Sister Grimha was part of that expedition that returned hours after Cearia and Anjali left to claim the rancor siblings. Her presence confirmed that the hunting party returned safely. There would be plenty of furs and hides that one of the sisters could use to make a new coat for her.

She really held a deep fondness for that coat. It had been one of the few things that had been from her previous life with the Red Hills.

Cearia methodically worked at the straps to loosen her leather armor, letting that join the weapons on the table. She then reached down to pull the thick black sweater over her head, which joined the pile. If she only could realize how she endured the physical demands being weighted down with weapons and armor, returning back to her wife with news swiftly despite the distance, and found so much strength inside of her to persevere to help Anjali was no simple feat. Yet in her mind it wasn't enough.

She slumped down to sit on their bed after loosening her trousers, shucking off one boot at a time against the table with a weary sigh. She debated on washing the paint off her face but now that she was sitting, Cearia wasn't sure if she had the strength to stand again. With effort, she lifted her hips and pushed down her trousers, kicking them to join her boots, now as bare as the Clan Mother.

She turned to Anjali and spoke without the use of a title, but did not use her name either. "Do you need anything else?"

Cearia would find what strength remained and obtain anything that her wife needed.

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali was surprised that her wife's mind seemed to briefly travel down memory lane, even though it didn't last long for the huntress stopped herself at once. It nevertheless was a subtle encouraging sign to the Clan Mother; or maybe she was simply too exhausted and naturally gravitated towards positive details.

She thanked her wife for her help. She knew that after much needed sleep, she would do much better, they both would. The wound would be problematic and prevent her from ease of movement for a while; but she didn't regret how events had unfolded, given the benefit for the Clan.

Adjusting her position in bed, she chose to lie on her back, for her favorite side position was impossible due to her arm injury. Tilting her head to the side, she watched her wife disrobe and arrange all her weapons and garments. While Cearia might think ill of herself, the Beast Warden marveled at her strength, especially for one who wasn't gifted with the Force, something she knew her mate mourned at times. It was no small feat what she had accomplished that day, from the physical exertion all the way to what was nothing but Beast Warden work with assisting her with the young rancor.

Anjali chose not to verbalize more of her thoughts and high opinion. She had said her piece, and they would eventually pick things up at a later time.

She found some solace when her wife didn't use her title when inquiring whether she needed anything else. She was tempted to tell her that she shouldn't have ignored the blue baby flier. It just didn't sit well with her; but she didn't want to force Cearia to dress up again and go take care of that. Instead she gave a nudge through the Force to Iss-Ka to go watch over the flier for now.

"Another fur blanket would be great, thank you," she eventually replied.

"And having you by my side," she added with a tired smile, as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia anxiously waited for any gesture or word to her offer once their eyes locked, unable to look away or feel detached. Her heart raced with memory of Anjali laying like this on the morning of Cearia's departure - playfully teasing her to stay just a little bit longer. She had wanted to commit the feel of the hunter's body against her own one last time.

The flood of emotion that it provoked immediately watered green orbs, forcing Cearia to blink them into submission before tears broke free. She couldn't rely on her voice, afraid it would crack with how dry her throat suddenly became. It was as if Anjali had never quenched her thirst with water when they were reunited. So she faintly nodded and looked away, deeply inhaling with quiet lungs and balled hands into fists to push against the cushions. It was enough momentum to help her to stand, but she was keenly aware that the next time she sat down it would be her last until her body decided she would wake.

She only allowed a soft grunt of exertion as bare feet padded along the cold stone to a wooden crate at the foot of the bed. Fingers coaxed the top to loosen before finding a grip to heft it open - almost an insurmountable feat with protesting muscles. She leaned against the upright lid to rummage through the choices and selected a thick, long pelt of brown and black, letting the lid fall closed harder than intended. Anjali's second request had surprised Cearia given her detached behavior and she bit back an immediate excuse to say no. She was hypersensitive, Cearia knew this, but her question was directed to Anjali to help her rest, to heal. If that meant the Clan Mother wanted to be close to the hunter, she couldn't say no. She didn't want to say no after the initial panic subsided.

"I need to wash my face first," she explained while coming to Anjali's side of the bed, impressed that her voice held firm, and draped the fur over her wife.

She smelled of cloying overripe berries and she didn't want Anjali to suffer black smudges of paint rubbing onto her or the bedding as they slept. She disappeared into an alcove behind the sleeping area and was not surprised to see the large basin was filled with clean water. Servants brought fresh water, food, and clean linens throughout the day as was necessary for the Clan Mother and her mate - a fact the hunter learned quickly when agreeing to move here. News of Cearia's return had prompted them to restock the bathing area with fresh soaps and cloths too.

Not wanting to keep Anjali waiting, she took a cloth and submerged it into the water. Wringing it out, she slapped some soap onto it before vigorously scrubbing black paint off her face. She scrubbed so hard with punishing intent that surely the motion took off the first layer of skin. If only her doubts could be so easily removed.

She let the soaked cloth hang over the side of the basin and took a clean one to dry her face as darkened water sloshed beneath her. If she had the strength for more, Cearia would have stripped bare and washed her entire body to be clean and refreshed as good as this little pampering felt, but the Clan Mother was waiting for her and there was only sufficient strength left to walk back to bed.

Cearia returned moments later to a half awake Anjali, who had been fighting off sleep long enough to watch her wife join her. She pushed the furs aside and slipped into bed, sighing as her body sunk against the cushions. She was right - unless an act of the gods rejuvenated her, the huntress could no longer stand. Cearia's body begged for sleep but not before she fulfilled Anjali's last request. She scooted over to closed the meager distance between them, choosing to lay on her side so she could drape an arm over Anjali's torso. She unconsciously nuzzled against Anjali's shoulder, craving the contact too.

[Anjali Raskor]

After having pushed beyond her physical and mental limits for the last long hours, Anjali was struggling not falling sound asleep right away; although she knew slumber was closer with every instant that passed now that she was lying down. She was a sponge to all of her wife's emotions, in a way she normally wasn't. She was used to keep a semblance of guard up, as her power had its strongest connection to living beings and the tangible realm. Her current state didn't allow for it, even though she was by no means prying into Cearia's psyche, for it was something she had always refused to do, whether before or after they had entered their relationship.

She mumbled thanks to her beloved as another blanket was placed upon her tired and beaten up body. The Clan Mother had all faith that solid rest would see her back to normal, save for the wounded arm that would require longer. Whatever happened about it, she would carry on, for nothing else would be allowed. The Beast Warden had been raised harshly but lovingly and proudly. Giving her everything to the Clan and by extension to the Gods was how Anjali lived her existence and embodied her role.

She nodded to Cearia when the huntress mentioned needing to wash her face before joining her in bed.

The last figments of consciousness remained when her wife joined her and wrapped an arm around her. There was much to be addressed; but for now Anjali smiled as she fell asleep at last.

*****

When Anjali eventually woke up, she had no idea how much time had passed; but she knew for sure she had been in deep rest, for she hadn't changed position. At least she hadn't injured her bandaged arm any further. The pain was searing as she regained consciousness.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to find dark solace in it, for it was a reminder she was alive and had prevailed against the ordeal at hand. She felt the gift from the Gods course raw through her being and it made her embrace the pain as well as feeling grateful for her recouping.

She turned to look at her wife, still sleeping. She smiled, feeling pride wash over her. Cearia would have to accept her own capabilities and worth at some point.

For now, the Clan Mother managed to slip out of bed, standing with renewed ease. While her arm felt more painful than it had the previous day, she needed to bathe, and thus padded her way to the next room. Removing the wraps with one hand was annoying; but Anjali was set on taking care of herself without requesting any help.

[Cearia Tserta]

The gods granted Cearia dreamless sleep and only stirred when the bed felt empty. She switched her position to face where Anjali had laid, reaching for her and ended up with a fistful of fur. Cearia's brows creased in displeasure as her hand slid up and down to find the Clan Mother, only feeling the beginnings of chill on the pelts.

She opened her eyes and immediately felt refreshed. Exhaustion was lifted and strength had returned to her body, but her heart still weighed heavy with doubt. Sitting up in bed, Cearia rubbed her eyes free from sleep before casting her gaze across the room. It was difficult to say how much time had passed but it was of some significance. Her leather armor was neatly folded atop the table cleaned and repaired next to the glistening blades of freshly polished knives and daggers that had been removed from her belt and carefully lined across the table for Cearia's inspection. On the chair next to the table were fresh clothing for both Anjali and Cearia and boots gleaming from being cleaned that stood at attention on the floor. The sight of it all was a reminder for the hunter of who she was bound to.

Cearia's heart warred with thoughts that were best left unsaid - feeling that she was too quick to accept Anjali's interest and join soon after. Perhaps the Clan Mother wanted to act fast because of Enjo's intentions, or anyone that had entertained the thought of courting Cearia. With devotion to her leader, she was willing to accept all of it as Anjali was understanding and patient with her despite Cearia's glaring flaws. The vows she spoke and the offerings to the gods were pure and just after her sabbatical to cleanse her doubts.

Why didn't it work? Why did her heart still beat with challenge after challenge with meekness when it came to Anjali? Anjali who loved her and said she was enough? Why didn't she yet love Anjali back?

She shook her head and shoved the furs aside to stand, not wanting to finish her self condemnation, and went to find her mate. It wasn't hard as the sounds of water sloshing around caught her attention. She appeared at the bathing alcove and was happy to see Anjali awake and strong before Cearia focused on the wounded arm. The stitching held nicely, the skin still red and bruised from the initial damage and effort of Ashia's healing hands. It looked clean with no pus or colorful discharge indicating illness and there were no signs of black, dead, skin. The arm was surviving and Cearia hoped it remained as such for the next day or two.

"I'll prepare the medicine and bandages to redress your wound once you're done bathing, Clan Mother," she said instead of offering to help, knowing that Anjali had been rejuvenated with rest and magick. The pile of wraps and bandages clearly displayed her mate's vigor.

[Anjali Raskor]

Bathing felt amazing after the insane day and the solid rest. Anjali felt her rejuvenated body relax further as she proceeded to clean up. Having only one arm for the process was annoying; but it was nothing likely to stop her. She was strong and agile enough to make things happen. It was also interesting how she denied herself the use of her gifts to help herself. She wanted to be able to rely only on her physical skills. She didn't take the blessings from the gods for granted, and ensuring she didn't become lazy had been drilled into her mind from a young age.

She felt her wife awake at some point. She smiled, relieved that Cearia had been able to get more sleep after she had discreetly left their bed. She was even more impressed for the huntress hadn't slept that much longer than she had, once again proving her outstanding resilience.

Anjali's mood turned sour moments later.

She growled and without thinking twice, threw the bar of herbal soap into Cearia's direction.

As patient as she had been with her beloved, and was willing to continue being, that was one too many "Clan Mother."

"STOP THIS."

She stood upright, unbothered by her nakedness as she stared at Cearia.

"Is this so unbearable to be my wife that you must play servant to tolerate it?"

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia braced for Anjali's understandable wrath but was not expecting a bar of soap to be flung at her. She shifted her weight and moved to the side as the soap landed on the ground. The impact caused it to crack in two before easily sliding away. She visibly winced when righting herself, taking the well earned verbal lashing.

She balled her hands into fists, uncertain what to say or do that wouldn't make this worse. Her silence would not help at all. Anjali appreciated her honesty despite the difficulty in speaking it. She needed to find what strength and humility within her to do that once again.

"You asked me if I was anguished in learning you wanted me as your mate," she began with eyes cast to the floor. The shame Cearia felt was so heavy that it was impossible to lift her head. "I said I wasn't. Just ... confused."

Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "I was ... wrong ..."

She breathed through her distress, eyes blinking with sadness with her next confession. "I'm weak, Clan Mother. My behavior proves it."

And you deserve better than this mess of me...

[Anjali Raskor]

Tossing the soap at her wife hadn't meant to hurt her in any fashion, for it had simply been a gesture of frustration. And really the last thing Anjali was worried about was Cearia getting hurt by a piece of soap thrown at her, given the huntress's skills. She had tried to understand and be patient; but at this point it was really mystifying to her.

She stared a her wife, waiting for an answer. She knew there was a chance none would be offered; but she still hoped for it. Without knowing what was on Cearia's mind, there was very little she could do about it.

She pushed aside the pain in her arm for the moment, and retrieved a nearby linen to wrap herself in, although she kept her eyes upon her beloved at all times.

Even though it was difficult to hear, she was grateful that Cearia actually responded. The Clan Mother wanted to see this as a first step towards better communication and maybe even improvement down the line.

She growled at the huntress saying she was weak. It was one load of Rancor shit if she had ever heard one. This baffled her that her wife could feel as such; but she knew better than to just tell her how she view her, for it had already been established it didn't change a thing. Cearia needed to figure that out for herself.

She didn't say much for a while, figuring out what was her best option. At least Cearia was still before her, so that was something.

"I appreciate your honesty," she eventually said.

She chose not to step forward, leaving the current distance between her beloved and herself as it was.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia was well aware of Anjali's presence - where she walked, the soft sound of linens bunching up around her wife's body. She was painfully aware of the distance between them, which surprised Cearia. Her behavior was off putting so why would Anjali want to be near her? The polarity of her feelings towards the Clan Mother, her wife, confused and angered her. The two of them should be celebrating their successful return - instead, Anjali was dealing with the fallout of her wife's guilt and anguish again.

She visibly winced once again at hearing the Clan Mother growl, but Cearia stood her ground, well aware that Anjali would not like the truth that passed her lips. When Anjali spoke, Cearia nodded in acknowledgment, not ready to lift her head. She was grateful that she listened to her gut and spoke truthfully. What was asked next caused Cearia's shoulders to slump forward in doubt.

"I don't know," she answered quietly, lightly shaking her head. "I truly thought the time away before we joined would have quieted my distress. I'd do it again, but I know you want me here to help you. I want to be here to help you."

Slowly Cearia raised her head but forest green eyes looked to Anjali's wound. "You arm needs tending to now that you're done bathing ..."

She swallowed down Anjali's title this time.

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali would have normally closed the distance between her and Cearia; but right at this moment, there was a part of her worried that if she appeared to overbearing, her wife might just scamper off into the wilds. Of course, the rational part of her knew the huntress had made a promise to help tend to her arm for a couple of days. Given Cearia's strong anguish, it was hard to be sure that this mental plague might not take over.

She felt that she had turned into a beast warden in how she was attempting to find the right balance with how to behave with her wife right now, somewhere being deep care and yet coaxing answers out of her.

Her heart broke and yet her spirit rose at her beloved's genuine answer. It was a difficult one to speak and hear; but Anjali had strong faith in the gods' blessings and her marriage.

"I am willing to give you space if you need it; but know I will never forsake you."

She didn't know whether it would assuage any of her wife's fears and shame; but she knew it was important to reiterate it.

She looked at her arm, when her wife spoke of the required care. She hadn't been thinking about it as her focus was on Cearia and the issues they were having, pushing her pain aside for the time being.

"You are right. I would appreciate your help with cleaning and bandaging it anew."

She walked up to her wife this time, also noting how the huntress hadn't used her title this time. It might be a tiny victory; but Anjali didn't take it for granted.

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia scoffed and bared her teeth, momentarily fighting off a growl of frustration. "Space did nothing. Why should I expect something different even if I wanted to go again?"

Her words held the most bite since she left on expedition, but Cearia's tenacity dissipated as quickly as it appeared. She didn't understand, or deserve, Anjali's patience. It was appreciated but if the untamed land that called to Cearia couldn't give her peace, why would she leave again, even if her gut told her to flee...

"And I'd never forsake you. Even ... even if I don't feel worthy to be your mate ..." She admitted with a hard swallow. Cearia wanted to say that aloud as much as it hurt to hear the words because she took her vows seriously. She cared deeply for Anjali but it warred with her own self worth.

She tentatively reached out to take Anjali's hand and gently lifted it to get a better look at how the stitching held along the injured arm. Up close, Ashia's work was art. The wound was not. It was angry and bruised but healing nicely as she first observed. She let her thumb gently outline the edge of bruised skin where it started to discolor, not bothering to ask how her strength was. Anjali was able to bathe and wrap herself without assistance, who smelled refreshed whereas Cearia smelled still of sweat and grime. She could smell a hint of berry which annoyed her. She felt all but sweet and needed to bathe once Anjali's arm was tended to.

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali stood stoically as she stared at her wife's angry and bitter reaction. She saw that as a good sign.

It was a significant improvement from the sulking and rigid honorific words that had happened in the recent past. Something had to break the wound open so they could have a chance to do something about it.

There was also some weird satisfaction about seeing Cearia have such bite, and it was good to see it on a personal level and not simply in her work to serve the Clan. That reminded Anjali once again why her heart had chosen the huntress over anyone else.

The Beast Warden found solace in hearing her beloved say that she wouldn't forsake her either. She hadn't been that worried about it; but at the same time knowing that her wife's anguish had only spiraled over the last weeks had given her more concern than she had been willing to admit.

She let Cearia take her hand and inspect the wound. The pain resurfaced; but Anjali was more concerned about the discussion at hand than her arm. She knew that both Ashia and Cearia provided the best care possible, and she was a good patient in terms of taking her salves and having the wound tended when it should.

While her wife took care of her injured arm, Anjali was still mulling over their discussion.

As the huntress had said, storming off on her own hadn't solved anything. Yet the Clan Mother recalled vividly how their time together in the wilderness had been among the happiest they had had. She wondered whether doing that again might help.

After all, the clan was under no emergency now, and one of the perks of having a council of leaders was that it allowed them to travel individually when the need arose. If she left Iss-Ka behind, she also knew that the Voritor would find her rapidly in case anyone needed her at the enclave.

"Would you like us to travel together away for a bit?"

[Cearia Tserta]

Their silence was tense but not as profound before Cearia found courage to speak honestly. This had helped ease some of Anjali's frustration and anger towards her fool of a mate, though it didn't lessen the shame the hunter felt at all. Cearia was at a loss as to what could help her or how Anjali could. It felt like an immeasurable obstacle that the hunter could not defeat.

She did have a promise to keep and that would be her immediate focus. With a gentle squeeze of Anjali's hand, Cearia led her to the main area to dress the wound. She pulled a chair out by the table where all the supplies Ashia had given them waited and opened the first jar when her mate sat down. The pungent liquid hit nose fast that it forced nostrils to flare and her face could not hide its disgust. She certainly hoped it taste better but Ashia gave strict instructions for the Clan Mother to start drinking this twice a day upon waking. She poured the proper amount in a metal cup and slid it before Anjali, her gaze urging her luck in drinking the elixir before washing her hands.

Servants had added to the bandages that Ashia had given them. They had neatly stacked the rolled up cloths into a pyramid next to the bowl used to wash her hands. She patted hands dried and opened the next jar for the salve. It smelled pleasing to Cearia as it reminded her of the forests - the lush fresh scent of bright colored leaves and wet dirt. She recognized that the salve was similar to what she brought on hunts and used initially on Anjali's injury.

She pulled up a chair next to her mate but left enough room for her to cradle the arm against her own, gently cupping it before the elbow. Two fingers dipped into the salve and vigilantly spread the paste along the stitching in a soothing circular pattern. She applied enough pressure for the medicine to do good, but not so hard that Anjali would suffer needlessly. Ashia was right in her assessment that Cearia was gentle and strong with her hands depending on what they were needed for.

Cearia appreciated this task, pleased that Anjali wanted her to take care of her regardless of the difficulties her mate had in accepting life as the Clan Mother's mate. Tasks like this gave her purpose and focus, even if clarity eluded Cearia, but her devotion to Anjali was there even if it was muddled with loyalty as a subject to the Clan Mother.

Now that the stitching was well lubricated with salve, Cearia peeled her hand from under the injured arm to wipe her fingers clean. When she partially unrolled a bandage and set to cover the wound, Anjali ended the silence. The suggestion clearly surprised Cearia, causing eyes to widen curiously despite hands never faltering with their work.

"Sister Ashia needs to see you," she said as a reminder while thinking over the offer. "You can't leave until that's done."

She dared glance properly at her mate as the last of the bandage was wrapped in place. "And I've a feeling my arguments will be countered if I dare suggest you're needed here more, hm?"

Cearia looked away and tied the bandage off, covering her mate's hand between her own. "Do you really think it will help if you go with me?"

Her voice was quiet, unsure, as she also was reminded of their only excursion together - when they patrolled the canyons and found the baby fliers. That day was filled with so many firsts that it was hard to believe that it had been real.

Skrish ... I'll have to see the yongons today and apologize for my rudeness ...

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali knew that it would likely be a long and difficult journey for Cearia to eventually overcome her misplaced shame and feeling of unworthiness; but she was grateful they were at least able to talk. While it didn't solve everything; it still allowed them to express certain things, regardless of how difficult it was. As cunning and ruthless as she could be under certain circumstances; Anjali wished for nothing but honesty with her wife, even when it felt unbearable.

She followed her wife's lead into the main area and was a well-behaved patient, even when she had to drink that atrocious concoction. She understood its reason; and really it was a meager price to pay for having brought the rancors to the Clan. Leading by example was something she had witnessed in her birth clan, and she hoped to do the same for the Undead Fires.

She was nevertheless looking forward to retrieving the full use of her arm, and be done with ingesting disgusting liquids whenever possible. It wasn't because she was patient and stubborn that she rejoiced in having to put up with a badly wounded arm.

She was surprised that the salve smelled so delightful in comparison. It almost made her feel as she was in the midst of the forest, with spring bringing to life all meadow flowers to life. She could almost picture the vivid colors in her mind.

Her wife's tending to the arm was strong and gentle, which Anjali appreciated. There was something about the huntress that often made her think that Cearia was more comfortable having something to focus on, so the unwelcome ruminations had less space to exist.

She didn't know what to expect when she suggested they both left for a trip together. Even though she couldn't wander off for weeks at a time; like Cearia could, Anjali couldn't help thinking it was worth a try.

"I would see Sister Ashia before we depart. After that, if you're willing to continue helping me with tending to my injury, we could be away for several days."

She couldn't help smiling at the huntress's comment about getting her arguments countered.

"You are correct. If you can spare time away from your furthest hunting expeditions for a few days, I can arrange to be gone for this amount of time."

She looked at the neatly tied bandage and then back at her beloved.

"I don't know; but I think it's worth trying."

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia considered everything that Anjali said and realized that when it came to the vows that bound them, they were equally stubborn for different reasons. Anjali was determined to find a solution so the two of them could move past Cearia's insecurities and unworthiness being the Clan Mother's mate, the root cause her glaring deficit - unable to use magick like the majority of Dathomir witches. If either understood the irony of that misnomer, that Cearia was born of the Force instead of overtly using it, all of her self-doubt would immediately dissipate and stand worthy at Anjali's side. It was impossible to tell if that would ever be understood, so Cearia remained stubborn in denying her self worth to her Clan Mother, not the clan itself. She was confident as a hunter, but not as the mate to one of the most influential and powerful members of the Undead Fires.

"Grimha is one of my strongest hunters and I could have her lead the expedition so there are no delays. I understand that's not as easy for you," she explained coolly, despite every urge of hers wanting to go. Repairing her relationship with Anjali had to take priority. "However, if Sister Ashia says you're not well enough to leave, I will lead the expedition and when I return, we can ... spend time together."

She spoke with finality on the matter because it was the only logical response if the healer felt the Clan Mother was not ready. "If you are well enough, I'll make sure there's enough medicine and supplies to dress your wound. You know it'll be my honor to assist you ..."

Her title was still on the tip of Cearia's tongue and it was difficult to bite it back, her face giving away the struggle - cheeks sinking inwards as tension rippled through her features. Suddenly she stood and took her hand away. "I need to bathe. And check on the fliers."

The conversation had become trying for her despite its brevity. She had reached her limits on opening up, her anxiety heightening and afraid she would say something to start a fight again. Without waiting for an answer, she walked around Anjali's chair and suddenly felt a pull to pause. Her heart felt heavy in one beat and light in another, pounding ferociously and anxiously - warring with staying by her mate's side and running away to avoid her feelings.

instead of retreating, Cearia surprised herself as she returned to stand behind Anjali and leaned over to kiss into her hair, squeezing the shoulder of the uninjured arm. "I'm glad you weren't injured worse ..."

Her words were muffled by Anjali's hair as Cearia tightly closed her eyes. The image of her mate severely injured came rushing back - all of the blood coating Anjali's arm, the wound mangled with meat and clothing. The rage and protective instincts that rose within her startled Cearia.

The fresh scent of herbal soaps from her mate's bathing brought Cearia back to the present as she deeply inhaled, fixed that Anjali was safe. "I pray to the gods that remains true when Ashia sees you again ..."

She swallowed hard and forced the next word through gritted teeth for the benefit of her mate who could sense her distress. " ... Anjali ..."

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali only knew about the Red Hills Clan because of what her wife had shared with her. She had had no interaction with them. She wished that Cearia's birth clan had been more welcoming to non-Force using members, as the Lavender Rift had been. It had been one of the challenges of uniting all survivors under the Undead Fires banner: handling differences as best as possible through finding balance between cohabitation and preservation of traditions from birth tribes. Where Anjali's clan had been inclusive of non-Force wielders, she had been puzzled by how Cearia behaved with males at times. The Red Hills certainly kept males in a subordinate position, but not as drastically as Anjali's clan had. The Clan Mother appeared to have come from one of the tribes that ensured males kept their places with most sternness. As much as Anjali could appreciate a male's talents to serve his clan, there wasn't the shadow of a doubt in her mind about which gender was superior.

She listened to what Cearia said about another Sister Hunter. Grimha was a good one indeed, very skilled and she had seen her be attentive to some of the youth in the Clan, likely keeping an eye out for future recruits. It had been interesting because several of the children had sought out her mate instead, but Anjali had always seen Cearia keep her distance. Granted, Anjali had had few occasions to spend time with the children either; though due to her position they didn't rush to her much, even though the Beast Warden actually loved kids and had raised her younger twin sisters after their mother's passing. She missed the little monsters a lot. They had been good night girls and with so many gifts.

She didn't argue over the options laid out by her wife. It made sense, and she wasn't as crazy as risking her arm's healing when no emergency required her to.

"We can see Sister Ashia later today, and speak with her. Then, we will act accordingly."

Although she knew that Cearia would believe her regardless, it made sense to her that her wife was present during her next visit to the healer.

Anjali was genuinely relieved that Cearia didn't push her idea away, and was willing to make this joint trip happen. She had no way to know what awaited them should they embark upon it; but she couldn't help thinking the wilderness might soothe them and help their bond grow closer regardless of the hardships.

Cearia's efforts not to address her by her title were evident, but Anjali didn't comment on it, simply offering a warm smile of thanks to the absent title, even when it lingered on her beloved's tongue.

She tilted her head and looked at Cearia when she spoke of needing to bathe, and then seeing the fliers.

"A sound plan," she replied, glad she didn't have to mention the fliers matter to Cearia, for she had thought about it by herself.

Her eyes didn't stray from her wife, and she was surprise when the huntress turned back and came to carefully embrace her and kiss into her hair. She reached out with her good hand, and rested it on Cearia's arm. In the privacy of the moment, Anjali couldn't avoid feeling the overwhelming and contradictory emotions raging deep within her mate. She didn't let them overcome her, nor did she pry into them, simply offering her presence to her wife.

The way Cearia said her name, without the attached title, made Anjali's heart rejoice, and yet her soul felt distress over how difficult it was for Cearia to call her as such.

"Go bathe, my love," she said with seriousness as she tilted her head to touch her wife's face.

Hopefully getting some time to herself would help ease Cearia's mind.