Swiftcurrent Creek Sound the bugle now, play it just for me

Upon broad shoulders he carried the goat he had felled. He had stopped for frequent breaks, but his goal was to mend fences. Drop prey at the allies. They hadn't had a proper anything. And the three worlds had imploded. Sandy had seen it and ignored it and he would continue to do so. It didn't directly affect him so he was fine with staying out of it all.

Black body fire paws and he stopped at the border, dropping the prey and shaking out his shoulders. Attempting to lick the offending blood and pieces clean. He lifted muzzle in a howl to someone anyone to come to the borders. He wouldn't cross even as an ally.

Isn't it so strange how time keeps going on, even when you don't want it to?
At some point, Wren had drifted home following her argument with Arric and her solitude at the lake, and to no one did she speak. Work. Work was now her driving force when she could not return to the shore, watch the ducks; checking borders, hunting for the stores — where there was, perhaps, now an overwhelming pile of voles and hares — and sleeping anywhere but here. Her empty den served only as a reminder.
But she still waited. She promised.
It was the sharp tang of an obvious Riverclan scent at the border that drew her in today, one that drove saltwind bitterness straight through her chest. She approaches with caution; eyes reddened and puffy, fur tousled and seemingly stuck in perpetual brine. She looked like shit, frankly, but now was not the time to care.
You, she points with a tip of her muzzle. you're from Riverclan, right? Just makin' sure. regardless of his answer, her brow would furrow. Can we help you?

A very carewarn young woman met him. And he was momentarily unsure should he have bothered.

 Was she affected by the sadness and the anger that hung on his packlands. Was she the cause? Well he supposed it didn't matter he was trying to stay uninvolved.  He hoped though she would find peace. 

Warm yellow eyes softened and head motioned at the goat. I am. I brought food for your caches. I'm Sandulf, though most call me Sandy.

His name is Sandulf and he's from— Riverclan. Of course she had to have been right.
Cool, thanks. Name's Wren, gamma, though, perhaps, she would not be for much longer.
She gingerly leans forward to swipe the bundle of meat and bones toward her, proceeding to then hold it between her forepaws. She searches him again with eyes that must have been pitiful with how red they were, ears drawn into a splay. If you're lookin' for Silvertongue, she's not here. You can come in, though, I guess. I don't think anyone would care. Not that it mattered. Misery seemed to have such a violent grip upon the Creek that she doubted anyone else would notice his presence. Or her's.

He dipped his head and perked ears forward.  So pleased to meet you Miss. Wren.

She was quick to take his gift and then searched his face. He was unsure what exactly to say or do, but she seemed to need a friend. But he was unsure if he could help.

A knit in his brow and he frowned. I will not search for her if she doesn't wish to be found. That seems an unjust cruelty to force my presence upon anyone, andcthank you but i will stay on this side, but.

He blinked. Is there anything I can help you with Lady wren?

This Sandulf and his presence here felt like a warm towel upon her shoulders; protection from a burling thunderstorm. He is kind and he speaks to her politely, something that had felt so scarce; I wish there was, pal, you could bring my girlfriend back. it hasn't been easy here, these past few-- this past while. Your kindness is appreciated more than you know.
Teeth grit and grind inside her mouth, a sigh forming from her lips. How's Riverclan been holding up? Without her? After... y'know, everything. did he even know?

Sandy studied her and the area with kind yellow eyes. Unsure what exactly he could do, but willing to try.

Russet ears perked forward at her words and he listened. The pain present. He felt bad.

He shook his head. it is not good. The children found out their real parentage and our not handling it well. Crowfeather and Germanicus and silver. Well there is much hurt there.

He gritted his teeth. i try and stay out of it, but it certainly isn't good. I am sorry it too is affecting you and yours.

A scorching, blunt-edged knife may as well have slit from rib to pelvis. The children. Silver's children, the ones she bore to the man who was not Wren.
And there were so many things Wren could have said, so many malevolent licks of fire that itch and burn. Of how Akavir had cast her, too, aside for a prettier girl, of how Silvertongue had all but ripped the red heart right from her chest and taken it with her when she'd left. Of how Wren thought daily of saying fuck it and going after her, and how she wasn't sure that if she did — and if Silvertongue was still alive and willing — that they would return.
I love her, y'know. and she did not think she needed to say the name; the soft blanket of sudden raw, visceral agony swallowing her as she yet again meets the soft eyes of Sandulf.

To carry the rejections upon your soul would surely scar if not constantly fester. You had to move away from it.

Soft eyes sad and knowing. I gathered. I am sorry. Aometimes love is painful until you can both find each other.

He didn't know how to ease it for her. He truthfully prob couldn't.it was the way of the world. Hurt came in spades and on its wings healing usually.

i am so sorry i let this thread escape me D: can fade here if you want!

It sure is.
There was little else Wren had it in her to say. If she wasn't careful, she feared she may begin to weep in front of this poor, kind stranger. The silence drums before she sniffles and gives him a small nod of her head. Thanks for stopping by, Sandy, she slides a portion of the cache toward him. take this with you, when you leave.
Perhaps for a little longer, she would maintain the comfortable conversation — a little bit of normalcy went a long way.