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

Kvarsheim's wrong to right.
Kvarsheim's wrong to right as the grizzled man cast a shadow over her head. Kvarsheim's wrong to right as she had watched Akavir and Arric disintegrate into the madness of stress. Kvarsheim's wrong to right as Wren had stepped from her post as gamma, turned her back on her family; Kvarsheim's wrong to right as the flashing black-and-blue memories of that day upon the mountaintop flooded her.
The switch is flipped.
Tauris was right, as was Akavir. Wren had defended herself, her pack's children, her family. What anyone would have done. She had done her dues, taken her responsibility; and yet that man, that boy, whoever he was, roamed free within the grasslands of the stone circle.
She leans forward in an effort to raise the smoky gaze back toward her, to watch the befallen expression crystallize into sincere remorse. It was not all her fault.
Did you really not know? About Germanicus, and-- and that guy? the question rolls from her earnestly, genuinely; tone suddenly lightening as if they were merely girls gossiping, as if their lives hadn't respectively crumbled before them in the past weeks. Did Gunnar not know?