Wapun Meadow broke my own limb and blamed you for the limp

i'm never really gonna be one of you, silver, wren's tone is soaked in torment, cast in a winding shadow of long-standing grief. i-i can't-- it doesn't feel right to force myself into this mold just so people who fuckin' hate me might give me another chance.
the wavering of her voice finally breaks; she squeezes tightly the dainty paw that found her own. a-and it's not your fault, i just-- i don't feel like riverclan is my home. your culture, your traditions, they're beautiful, but-- it's not mine. it feels like a costume. and i can't force myself to take a different name, or, or-- be somebody i'm not. and i've never exactly listened to what people tell me i should be doin', eh? star-gods or not.
silvertongue was trying. wren closes her eyes while her wife wipes the warm saltwater from her cheeks. i guess what i'm tryna say is that i want both of us to be-- equal. if we're pregnant, and she pauses there, for a moment, the word freezing upon her tongue; i want our kids to, to have a choice. to have a riverclan name or not. to be more like me or more like you, or-- both of us, or neither of us. i never got a choice, as a kid, and i don't wanna repeat that.