Lost Creek Hollow the black hills, the colly

She sounds like a real bitch, Wren hoots, a twisting smile crossing her features. hopefully she stays gone. Poor old guy's head might explode. 
A hind paw reaches up to scratch behind an ashen ear, a sigh pushed from the corner of her mouth. So, her eyes wander back to the seafoam of Silvertongue's own, pressing at her as if they may pop right out of her head in a cartoonish manner. Wren shifts, suddenly, sitting upright and making herself as straight-backed as she could. Good impressions. Right. you guys-- Riverclan-- is like the... place with all the fancy ass healers? And then there's carsh-him to the South with that one old guy, blink, blink. Oh, dear Christ, she sounds ridiculous right now, doesn't she? sorry, wait, no, that sounds rude. Do we all do, like, separate things, or do you just happen to have a bunch of doctors? Doctors that may or may not be able to cure a pregnancy, was what she wanted to ask.