Valley of Gold dolor y sangre

the valley was lined with high stone walls; just beyond were the teekons. silvertongue knew enough to understand that clambering over the rock would only exhaust she and @Andromache, who insisted on following her home. several times silvertongue considered lying, considered telling the greek woman that some random mountain or misted green was riverclan. the only thing that stayed her tongue was understanding she would have more questions to answer, and so silvertongue said hardly anything at all, brow furrowed as she led them to find another outlet into the valleys she knew. many potentials awaited her. a shameful return to riverclan. the willingness to sequester herself there and never leave again, regardless of crowfeather's anger. she could simply not return at all, but then there was wren, who deserved none of this. she should, the silverpelt woman considered, end things with her lover for the sake of the things which would always torment her mind. but it was a pouring, jagged howl from the very same man who had begun the terrible motions of her life which stopped the riverwolf in her tracks. the pupils constricted to fear; she whirled and began to run from the tarns, not halting until the call which mingled with another fell far and away behind she and andromache. only then, sucking great draughts of air, did silvertongue fall to the dunes and press her face to the sand — and came away with the footreek of akashingo. the palace, and the roman hunting behind silvertongue to drag her back — something which had broken inside silvertongue the night her children were born now completed its shatter and she began to laugh hysterically in the golden dunes, laughing, laughing, laughing, until the dark throat of her mirth became a scream that she could not stop.