Lost Creek Hollow i think my blood is passing me by

Ash Paw’s stern tone made Shadowpup visibly flinch. She turned to the Star, expression dashed with teenage scorn and strained into a pinched pucker as she tried to keep all her ugly emotions contained.

Yet, they eeked out like a boiling kettle’s whistle. “Don’t tell me what to do,” the girl’s small voice refuted in a bout of adolescent protest. Then, Shadowpup’s ears slicked back as she felt the weight of her own words.

Suddenly Silvertongue roused. Her beautiful, but haggard, voice spoke a language that Shadowpup had once associated with love. Next, was an apology… but it was not Shadowpup who she regarded, but Ash Paw.

Wren. Here to stay.

Would’ve died. Had to help.

Why had Silvertongue abandoned Riverclan? How had she been injured? Why must this Swiftcurrent wolf stay? Shadowpup’s yellow eyes narrowed at the pair as the questions burned up her insides. “You can’t come in," she gestured at Wren. "G-go back to Swiftcurrent with the rest of the l-l-liars,” she stammered.