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In the desolate heart of winter, a lone figure found itself traveling the expanse of the frozen moor. The icy gale howled through the skeletal branches of trees that reached out their long, gnarled hands to beg for even one drop of sun from the pallid rays that had managed to dig through the oppressive cloud cover.

Faint at first, like a distant echo, a sepulchral melody bloomed from the heart of the wasteland. The crisp breeze played accomplice, carrying its mournful notes with an eerie flow that summoned spirits to waltz just out of sight, as if one might catch a glimpse of them if they turned quickly enough.

The singer's voice rose and dipped, holding a wistful tone that crystalized in the frigid air for all to see:

So rot, ferment and decompose
So all the things can grow

something was wrong.
something had been wrong, for the past few days, or perhaps this past week. something was out of place. something had shifted and it had begun to disconcert wren; and yet, she could not place what it was.
everything was — fine, for the most part. silvertongue healed. shadowpaw warmed up to her, somewhat. ash star was still ash star, yes; but wren lived with it. but something else made her hair stand on end. something else stole sleep from her in the night.
surely it was just paranoia, that incessant fear that nothing good will last. either way, the warrior set out beyond riverclan's borders, just to check. to feel safe.
the wind tore at her cheeks and cold mud now covered her feet. she could not help herself from looking over her shoulder, staring up at the sun-blocked sky; songbirds fly overhead in a formation, and for a moment wren feels a little less alone.

she is certainly, most definitely not alone here.
for a good long moment, she thinks it's the songbirds singing and wonders if she really is starting to lose it. birds don't sound like that, do they? birds can't speak. her hackles ruffle in a display of her rising anxiety as she slowly thunders onward, head dipped low so that she may peer through the undergrowth.
it's there that she sees — her? him? them? — she cannot quite tell. a wolven silhouette, scent shrouded in everything and nothing at the same time. it's that one who sings. she watches for a time, suspicious of their proximity to riverclan's land, but painfully curious and oddly soothed by the warmth of the vocals. swiftcurrent? kvarsheim, maybe? neither option sounded particularly pleasant to her.
she doesn't wish to startle as she approaches, making sure her footsteps are as noisy as possible; a warning to the stranger that they are the one who will drive her next actions.

kvarsheim.
wren had been prepared for almost anything when she approached; violence, friendliness, fear, something in between, but what she had not expected, for some reason, was to meet a tarnished former ally.
she tries to hide the surge of panic in the adjustment of her posture, lips twisting into something that almost looked like a smile, but not quite. wren, she squeaks, forcing air from her lungs. i'm from riverclan.
not swiftcurrent. not anymore.
w-what, um, what brings you out here? kids finally settle down for a nap?

this guy, wren suddenly learned, liked to talk. here was this stranger, chatting her up with a happy little grin, cracking quips and making idle mention of his life with the trolls under the bridge. it seemed awfully unfitting for such a pleasant, casual-seeming fellow to belong to — them.
clearly, he didn't know, and wren was not about to be the one to tell him.
he says he is exploring now that the whelps are older and need his guidance less. she laughs awkwardly as if the sound had been expressed from her with a swift kick. yeah, um, i'm just out here looking for-- i dunno. i was bored, i guess.
bored was certainly a word for it.
he offers to help her hunt, and as if she could not feel any more guilty, she decides to politely shake her head no. it's okay, don't worry about it, her ears twitch shyly. i'll let you get back on your way, but, uhm, thanks for not runnin' away screamin' as soon as you saw me.
kvarsheim. kvarsheim. kvarsheim. be normal. be normal!
you ever need anything, my girlfriend and i live just up that way.