Swiftcurrent Creek compa

Wren felt herself positively unwelcome in this conversation. Had it been rude to approach so brazenly? Even Silver, her Silver — little in the way of attention was granted to Wren herself, only sidelong glances and curt smiles.
The insecurity churns, prickles, eats away at her innards. The last conversation she'd had with her belladonna had left them both raw, unraveled — and now, Wren feared a seedling of doubt had been planted in Silvertongue's mind.
Unwanted. Replaced, already, by Eshe; in Akavir's mind first, and now Silvertongue — and Arric didn't seem pleased with her either as of late. Wren had begun to lose her footing so soon after she'd finally gathered steadiness within the valley.
The boastfulness melts into dismay. She says nothing to either woman as the regret begins to spill over. The sudden sting of tears in the corners of her eyes is fought.
What the fuck is she doing?