Lost Creek Hollow when we last spoke i was a dog with a broken leg

where apprehension once rested, a defensive anger now began to rise. the dark eyes lay silently upon ash star for a long pause before wren speaks again. i'm sayin' we're taking our family and leavin' to start our own life, the harsh bite of her accent cuts through her frostfire tone. you have the choice to follow us or not. i'm not gonna make you do anything. this is-- it's personal.
personal in a way that was bone deep.
she is catapulted back into the mind of her frightened teenage self, the bony-limbed girl who took what little was left of herself and ran. sister, mother; that man is my father. and if there's anything i know about him, it's that he'll go through hell and back just to sink his claws into me and my wife and my children.
her grip on the ground tightens; the warm look from her wife and the gentle recourse fills her with momentary relief. her gaze drifts between them all, now, softer as the wave of bitterness settles into something numb. i want both of yas to stay with us. but i-- i understand if you wouldn't wanna.