ash star did not care much for wren. that much was obvious. she wasn't stupid.
but there was a desperate, creeping urge in her veins that begged to at the very least be tolerated by her. she was the leader, for crying out loud! if there was anyone to impress, it would be her, if she was to make riverclan her true home. wren was not here only for silvertongue, even if it sometimes felt that way.
she came to the leader now with a softness to her gaze and the offering of a trout from the pool. it took her far too long to realize ash star was a little bit busy.
thouhh i'h bringh ya thihh a'a' thanhh, her words are slurred and unintelligible as she spits the fish near the multicolored paws. one of them, she notices, is dipped in charcoal. oh. that's where your name comes from, eh?

ash star always seemed to look at wren as if she were a complete and utter basket case. it perturbed her, to say the least. she tries to ignore it by offering a tiny, thin-lipped grin.
i have, she responds. i'm, uh, i'm settling in. still getting used to it.
and she was healing, relatively smoothly, as was silvertongue. this brought her great relief. she could not bring herself to tell her what had happened, not yet; perhaps not ever. no one needed to know. that did not follow her here.
but ash star seemed to be able to tell.
look, i, um, i just wanted to thank you for taking a chance on me. i know the peoples' general opinion of me isn't... the best. so it means a lot to, uh, be able to make this place my home, i guess. she was saying too much.

the star's kindness quickly melted into something tinged with what wren could only perceive as — a threat. she felt her throat close on itself.
i know.
excuse me? wren barks out. she glances down at her forelegs, the unreadable marks that carve the skin beneath her pelt. respectfully, that's none of your fuckin' business.
she wanted to leave. she should leave. her eyes shine with a desolate sheen of tears. silver is-- my girlfriend? my lover? everything, and yet nothing at all? i can assure you that no matter what you think of me, it has nothin' to do with my ability to love her and care for her. i should-- get back to her, actually.
bristling with shame that toils deep in her gut, wren turns to rise to her feet and make her exit if not stopped. you're welcome for the meal.

hurt myself? are you outta your fuckin' mind?
now there was true rage, true defensive anger that barrelled from wren's core. i had an accident. i slipped and fell several months ago, since you're so concerned. and either way, even if i did fall off my rocker, let me reiterate that you don't even know me. you don't get to judge me based on how i look, alright?
her lips twist into a scowl; her eyes burn. i'm not a danger to myself, or you, or anyone else. capiche? that satisfy you?

ash star grew violent. teeth turned for her, and wren knew better than to meet it with her own. she ducks her body in a swerve, muscles taut with tension and eyes ablaze with shards of brewing resentment.
heart thudding, jaws clenched; there was so much to say, so much she wanted to say, and yet all wren can manage is one scathing remark:

go to hell.

before it gets any worse, wren retreats to the safety of her bed beside silvertongue. she would not speak again for some time.