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

for a long while, wren does nothing but listen, breath crawling from her chest in agonizing exhales of icy air. melting beneath glass eyes, skin raw and red and cracked and hideously vulnerable; silvertongue touches her face and immediately her quickened heartbeat slows.
silvertongue did not see a monster. silvertongue did not see a battered woman, an ugly stain, an undeserving parasite, a cowardly child. silvertongue sees her wife, someone she had willingly given her name and body and devotion to, and for possibly the first time, wren realizes it.
the trembling forelimbs reach up to gingerly enclose the slender frame in an embrace, and for many more minutes there is only the sound of shared breath and hammering chest. it finally breaks when wren lets out a laugh, a shuddering sound muffled by the feathering along the other's nape.
i don't know what the hell i did to deserve you, wren finally says. but whatever it is, i'm glad i did it.