The Tangle i’m in trauma it’s got me singing-

Her attempt at usurping a small part of the tangle did not work, unfortunately — though a sliver of her heart really thought it might, and she experienced true disappointment. Now she’d have to leave, and now she’d have to be exposed, and now she’d have to go and deal with the cold when the cold was so very uncomfortable! Isleña was tired of the chill, tired of constantly shivering. Even here she had created a sort of ignorant bliss, and now that it was being torn away from her, all the fear rushed back.

— but instead of lashing out, as a normal-minded Isleña might have done, she did something else. As the darker wolf and then the lighter one spoke word after word that she did not understand, and as Isleña fully steeped in their sour energy, she could not stop the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes and flooded over her lashline. It was very much like the banshee to have emotional outbursts, but one produced from an amalgam of pure sadness and wretchedness? Not in a thousand years.

But losing one’s family was one of those instances that drove wolves to extents they wouldn’t normally. So Isleña hung her cocoa crown and let the tears fall from her eyes to dot the dry earth below. With a voice that felt of nothing but hopelessness, between breaths and sobs she muttered “have hungry.” There were no more solutions that she could think of, only problems and the sheer amount of them grew by the day. Maybe she was better off dying of hunger or cold or because these two hostile enemy women killed her — anything was better than this, being alone in a world where she was meant to be surrounded by many.