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

The pangs of sympathy were not something Wren knew how to deal with. At least not very well. A tight-lipped frown curls the corners of her mouth, sunken eyes carefully glued as she drinks in every word that leaves the Sharpfang's mouth. 
I'm sorry, is what she finally says, and with it, the tender act of a kiss just below her eyes. you deserve to-- to move on, though, y'know? And you can, the heat of her face is sweltering, and she can no longer tell whether it is from nerves or the intimacy they share in this moment. And then comes a crestfallen laugh that flutters from her chest. If he's found another man, maybe you should find a woman. Or maybe you've got one already.