Shadowwyn Moor Clair de Lune, L. 32

kvarsheim.
wren had been prepared for almost anything when she approached; violence, friendliness, fear, something in between, but what she had not expected, for some reason, was to meet a tarnished former ally.
she tries to hide the surge of panic in the adjustment of her posture, lips twisting into something that almost looked like a smile, but not quite. wren, she squeaks, forcing air from her lungs. i'm from riverclan.
not swiftcurrent. not anymore.
w-what, um, what brings you out here? kids finally settle down for a nap?

sorry for the shrimpy ass post smfh