Lost Creek Hollow Changes

ash star grew violent. teeth turned for her, and wren knew better than to meet it with her own. she ducks her body in a swerve, muscles taut with tension and eyes ablaze with shards of brewing resentment.
heart thudding, jaws clenched; there was so much to say, so much she wanted to say, and yet all wren can manage is one scathing remark:

go to hell.

before it gets any worse, wren retreats to the safety of her bed beside silvertongue. she would not speak again for some time.