Sun Mote Copse i'd rather chase the Sun than wait for it.

Iris. 
A name Wren had not said nor heard in months, one that was almost foreign to her now as it slipped off her tongue. A scramble of sounds that made less and less sense as time went on. 
Her name is Iris, her eyes go out of focus as she stares blankly at a nearby tree. She watches the birds that chatter amongst themselves, and briefly, she wishes she could be one with them. she's, like, everything that I'm not. My fatha, An audible crack forms within her voice. was not a good man. He, uh, didn't like either of us, but... she's, y'know, nicer. Prettier. The favorite. Which is fine, It was not, actually, and yet she shrugs as if it was. and when our pack went kaput, she didn't wanna come with me. Turned into a whole fiasco. Said a lotta shit to each other that we probably shouldn't've. But, uh, I guess I don't blame her. 
She is perfectly still. Her shoulders are tense, yet rest low. There is nothing left to do with the pain now that it is out in the open. 

She is hollow. 

Sorry. That was a lot.