Swiftcurrent Creek neck full of mockingbirds, all calling your name

He was right. Perhaps sometime soon, when the dust had settled, she would have to ask if there was anything Silvertongue wanted to be done about him.
For a fleeting second, Wren considers taking matters into her own hands; but that thought is quickly chased away by memories of black jaws around a pale throat.
She is not her father.
A valley get together. That sounded nice, in theory, except for the shit-nado that had begun to funnel darkly in the distance — the one they had just been talking about. But that aside, perhaps it'd do the trio of packs some good. Hm, she hums, eyebrows flattening as a crease forms between.
Eshe.
She swallows, hard, as the bile threatens to come up her throat. Head spinning, forepaws numb with adrenaline and anger and everything in between, pupils pinpricked. She very obviously likes you, it comes through clenched teeth, molars grinding in the back of her mouth; and she's... y'know, she's sweet, and she's funny and smart and pretty and everything I'm not and I'm absolutely terrified of her. And-- her breath halts, a shiver, and she does not dare avert her eyes from his even as tears well at blackened rims; I'm scared I'm gonna lose you to her, and I know that's fuckin' stupid because I don't even have you and you obviously don't want me either because what kinda-- fuckin', girlfriend or whatever would I be? And that's, it's, it's fine! I just want you to like me so bad, a pause, an unsuccessful attempt at catching her breath; and I really, really like Silvertongue too, so much that it scares me, and she's-- she's in love with Crowfeather and, one final icy inhale; I don't know. I don't even know why I'm tellin' you this. Forget it, I'm-- I'm sorry. You didn't ask for this. All, all I do is dump my sorrows onto people and pray somebody saves me, from myself, and it's stupid.
Shame. Shame consumes her, and she wishes for it to catapult her up into the air and away from all of this.