Swiftcurrent Creek there's something in the static

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: some gore, blatant depictions of ptsd

Eshe.
When Wren finds the strength to peel open her eyes upon having squeezed them shut, she finds Eshe bounding over to her, first aid bundled in her jaws.
Pounding deep in her chest, her heart seizes, slows; her eyes search; she doesn't even think to answer her question, but instead has one of her own. W-where is Mae? Is she okay? and then, a pause. With nothing left to hold her back, the shock having dissipated; a shaken breath is drawn from deep in her lungs, and Wren begins to sob.
Not silent, heavy tears, nor sad cries; but screeches, ones of pure horror that echo in the whistling breeze through oak leaves, ones that harken back to the teenage girl she once was and now saw staring back at her through Eshe's eyes.
In her mind are images — Moss, her corpse; the taste of that boy's blood that she cannot get out of her mouth, the sight of him half-dead while his life rested within her jaws; Akavir, how horrified he'll be when he finds out about this; Silvertongue, oh, Silvertongue, oh how badly she wished she was here —
Oh, dear god, what has she done?
She can't see Eshe anymore through the clouds. She can't hear save for the sirens, the car alarms that blister her eardrums. She reaches, trembling something fierce, a muck-covered paw that begs for purchase, begs for a friend. What did I do! What did I do!