Witch's Marsh Ascend

It was today that Wren had woken up with a horrible feeling of something wrong. A sickly, dreadful intuition; twisting, burning.
When she'd emerged from her den, the Creek was quiet. Mostly, everyone had still been asleep; the sun not yet fully awake itself.
As much as she'd tried to ignore it, go about her early morning duties of checking the caches — Eshe's scent had begun to dissipate, lead away. The sky broiled with gray-blue stormclouds, hot and muggy as the stench of rain had begun to mingle with the ones of her fellow creekwolves.
She hadn't bothered to alert anyone before she left. Something isn't right.
Alone, she traverses the hills at first with Eshe in mind, and what she'd found instead was the scarlet trail of a woman she had never spoken to, but knew all the same — Moss. And shortly thereafter, there's the distress call that rings through the willows.
The marshland was somewhere she'd often refused to go near, but today, she wades through the muck as her throat threatens to close on itself. Blood, blood — death, black waters, a body, the bodies of tiny children, and—
Wren shrieks.
There's a crowd of warm bodies that now circle Moss's remains like vultures, and immediately the gamma is drawn to Eshe's side with stinging eyes and lips curled in an abhorrent snarl. Her voice comes in a hoarse garble of panic and shock and anger. There were two, two she did not recognize. Who the hell were either of these people?
Mae, little Mae; oh, brave child, she'd tried to snatch what appeared to be a newborn that clung to Moss's frame —
One of the strangers tries to stop her. Instinctively, Wren's teeth aim for the side of his neck.

apologies for all the retcons/changes, i started writing this post long before a bunch of stuff happened LOL