Swiftcurrent Creek [m] half a mind that keeps the other second guessing

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it was unexpected, the barrage of words which cascaded from wren, and which silvertongue sifted through for the hard silver coin of jealousy, the piece of jetstone symbolizing insecurity — there were a thousand biting ways in which she could twist them both into some horrendous alchemy. but silvertongue did not wish this, for with each of wren's words she felt her spirit unravel with some caustic thorn; until at last she held up a paw. "their enjoyment with me has been since the beginning of swiftcurrent and riverclan, querida. my time here was not intended in punishment, and i am certainly not the only." but now the glassblue gaze flashed, for she had seen herself wanting in the tall limbs and expressive eyes, the insistence of power which she saw to be of like for the men of this land, the sensation to know that wren or any other woman of the creek could have akavir and arric more to themselves than silvertongue could hope to be. more than a diversion, but divert she did. now the smile did come, not one of triumph but gentle amusement. "do you think i am pretty, wren?" silvertongue asked, though where she had stood now fell away behind her as in a saunter she drew closer; darkening blue vying for the deep brunet of wren's own — "perhaps you want to fuck me yourself?"