Shadowwyn Moor find my nest of salt, everything is my fault

I left Swiftcurrent. I'm going to go find her. And then... I don't know.
Because she didn't; she didn't know what would happen to her from here, what she would find in the desert when her feet grace the dry soil. If Silvertongue would be there. If either or both of them would return.
All that she knew was she could not go on wading through uncertain waters any longer, and she had nothing else left to lose.
All I know is that this, this guilt is gonna be the death of me if I don't do something about it. I don't want to burden Swiftcurrent or Kvarsheim any longer. I want — I want peace. Between the two. And I think the only way that can happen is if I leave.
She lets go of the breath that had been held in her aching lungs. Kvarsheim had housed an overseer and a child thief. Their leader had come knocking at Swiftcurrent's borders and had the nerve to call them the violent ones. But it was more complex than that; much moreso than Wren could ever understand. And for her own sanity, she let it go.
Tauris meant no harm. Gunnar, in retrospect, probably hadn't either. And who was she to spew venom in their faces? Who was she to blame anyone but herself when it was her teeth that had started all of it?
Neither pack had place for someone like that; like her. Tauris hadn't known Germanicus's truth, the same way Wren hadn't known Bonario's — but that same logic, of course, did not apply to her in the haze of misery that still held her in its shackles.