Swiftcurrent Creek There is no way but up

She could not do it anymore.
As soon as the stumbling figure of Gunnar disappears into the treeline, Wren's expression folds from anger to sorrowful. A cry, strained and incomprehensible, before she dissolves outright into quiet sobs.
She had almost killed someone. She had almost killed an ally, and her lover is nowhere to be seen, and she does not know how many faces she had once considered to be friends remain —
It felt as though the whole world had whisked its cheek away from her right as she had found her footing.
And she couldn't do it. Not anymore.
Akavir; oh, Akavir — I think, she squeaks through her weeping, a sharp sniffle sucked into her nostrils as her shoulders hunch forward. I-I think I just want to be alone for a little while. Her eyes search for his in a sweep of blurred glass. I'm sorry.