Noctisardor Bypass YOU'RE FIT TO LEARN THE MEANING OF A BEATDOWN, MADNESS, CHAOS IN THE BRAIN

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Home was the last place Wren found herself wanting to go. She knew not where @Akavir had gone, if he followed; she did not care. It didn't matter.
Nothing did. Not now, not anymore.
In her head rang Silvertongue's voice, the shattered cries proclaiming her inability to be loved, to return it; Akavir, how hard he tried to get her to listen and the blood and that fucking woman who looked at her as if she was a predator all because she sought to love someone who could not love her back and she was so fucking stupid—
And what did she have left? Who was she, how was she to feel now that the only two people she had ever dared to truly let under her skin had all but cast her aside? And why was she still hoping, praying that Silvertongue's mind would change?
Her heart thrums and tightens and squeezes, her paws thunder clumsily as grass turns to vicious woodland and the walls of the bypass close around her. She knew not how long she'd been running for. The scabbed wounds along her front lash out and threaten to reopen and without even realizing it she is screaming and there's every horrible scar and sweet memory, every time her father's teeth met fresh skin and every velvety laugh Silvertongue gave her, Colt and Marcus's and Silvertongue's abandonment and Akavir's faith in her and oh dear god her ma would be so ashamed—
Again and again does she strike the helpless spruce in front of her with a blind fury, teeth and claw and torso beating against it and yet it did nothing. It fixed nothing.
And by the time her body could take no more of the abuse and her breath grows labored, there are no more tears to cry and her paws tuck her face under them.
Maybe she'll let the vultures make a meal out of her. The flowers and fungus that would turn her flesh to soil would be pretty, wouldn't they?

She was a ghost in the Creek; a silent shadow lingering at the peripheral, a fading memory of the girl who had been Akavir's daughter. At times she heard Moss calling to her from the swamp. Mae did not listen. Not again.

But she thought of the man often. Lasher. Where had she heard that name?

Mae departed without speaking to @Arric, thinking that perhaps she would visit Kvarsheim. She had liked it well enough there. But when she neared the borders, she suddenly heard Moss's voice from within; Moss, calling to her. She froze.

And then she fled. Where, she didn't know; anywhere to be away, anywhere at all. Mae didn't expect to find anyone. Yet there she was —

Wren, curled on the ground like a dying bug. And wasn't this scene familiar? Mae strode up to her with eyes far softer than they'd been the first time she'd found her like this. Wren, She said, not understanding what she saw, and yet — You're hurt. Wasn't she?

Akavir had made it back. Had spoken briefly. And now it fell to him or more so his sense of responsibility to find both Mae and Wren. Whether they were together he didn't know, but what he did know was that he couldn't lose anymore.

Nose to the ground. Large black body and long limbs he headed in the way the scents were. Though wrens was weak. He'd follow Mae firat see if perhaps they converged.

He sighed, a nagging headache pressing at his temple. Frankly he wasn't supposed too, shouldn't be pushing himself so quickly. He'd end up down again. The large heart that beat might break.

A voice.
She knew it, knew the sound of that little peep; you're hurt; did it matter? Did it matter that she was fucking hurt?
And the reality of her current situation seems to creep upon her and latch onto her shoulders with mighty talons. Her eyes, though blurry, fix on the familiar figure. Mae, oh, poor Mae, she was the last person she had ever possibly wanted to find her like this. Never would she again lash out to her, and so she forces a breath into her lungs. Stay calm. I'm okay, really, I'm-- don't worry, I'm good, hoarse and battered are her words as she forces herself up to her elbows. you should go home, kiddo. I'm fine.
And then there was the thud of paws behind her that sounded as if they belonged to only one man. God, why couldn't they have just let her be? Why make her live with this?
Why couldn't she have jumped off a cliff instead? Somewhere far away where no one would have found her remains?
She sees his silhouette through the treeline and immediately her expression falters into one strung with the threads of shame. Jesus.

Mae didn't understand. Her eyes filled with tears even as a familiar fire lit in her chest and crawled up her throat. You're not fine, She insisted, voice rising thickly, words fighting their way past the sudden sickness churning in her gut. How can you - you're - it's - it's not fucking okay, IT'S NOT, IT'S NOT!

And then she was sobbing like some little baby, and ashamed of herself, and still so very angry with Wren. She stumbled back, one paw moving to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her ragged too-quick breathing. But she couldn't. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. It - it's n-not okay, She sobbed into her paw. How could Wren say that it was? How could she lie to her? How?

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The sound of yelling and swearing and he increased his speed. Blue eyes staring at the mangled mess that met him. He looked to the streaming eyes of Mae and the crumpled form of Wren. And a sharp tone hit his voice.

What the actual fuck is going on lately? Why do I have to.

He took a deep breath, and closed his blue eyes tightly. A grit in his jaw. He was so sick of the fucking drama it was unreal. He was beginning to unravel and no one seemed to care, granted he didn't talk about it. Wouldn't talk about it.

He counted to 5 and then began again.

Maemae? What's going on? Wren? There was no room for excuses anymore, his tone spoke of a finality of a man at the end of his rope and tying it tightly.

Then he stood looking at them both, waiting, wondering.

Nothing was ever so simple, was it?
Mae, Wren's voice cuts through the sobs like a dull knife. What do you do when a child cries over you? Her ears bend into a splay, eyes desperately searching for hers in an attempt to get her to look up. it's not your job to worry about me, alright? I'm okay. Look, see? she awkwardly holds out a trembling foreleg; no cuts or bruises visible. Just-- just breathe, yeah? Yah hear me?
Slinking closer on her knees, she then extends the limbs out in an offer of an embrace. What else was there to do? Her chest thrums with the sound of her wretched weeping and every cell in her body contributes to biting back her own. It's okay. You're gonna pass out, kid, c'mon--
The booming arrival of Arric to the scene nearly causes the façade to rupture. Breath in, breath out; slow, tactful. Arric, she meets his tired eyes with a softness to her own. jeez, you look like hell, man. It's-- she's fine. I'm fine. Let me handle this one.

Wren was speaking; Arric was here, snapping; Mae heard none of it, nothing, nothing beyond that high keening sound and she was so
cold —

and it hurt to breath it hurt to think it was too much and she couldn't she couldn't she
couldn't

Breathe. Him, the man, that voice again — no — no no no

No, Her voice broke. Nononono - And she started to stumble back, unseeing. Where was she? Where was Wren? Arric?

She saw the man.

And she ran.

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He was going from irritated to furious and upset just the gamet of emotions. Then Mae was running.

:Fuck it is. No one is okay and im so fucking tired of it.

Arric he looked at wren. Stay put! I'm serious Wren do you hear me. And that this time is an order from your beta. I'll be back to help you to the creek.

Then he raced after Mae calling for her refusing to grab her. If he could possibly use his longer form and get in fron of her. If she just saw him, maybe.

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Arric's voice boomed like the snarl of a storm. Wren's first reaction is one of shock before ever quickly does it devolve into something enraged.
Don't you fuckin' dare swear at me, Arric, the fur of her nape bristles wildly; in the background is Mae's sobs, which only seem to further edge her toward the precipice. You got any fuckin' clue what I've been through these past couple of days? Huh? Do yah? My fucking girlfriend might be dead right now! eyes widen into pools of bloodshot red, chest heaving.
You don't get to yell at me anymore. I do so much for this pack and I don't even get a fuckin' thanks from you. I mean-- Jesus, for the love of god, I almost died for the daughter of a man I constantly third wheel for! I went to a goddamn pretty princess fairy castle and got poisoned by a tiny redhead for him! cowering defensively with her paws tucked close to her chest, shivering, shaking; But oh, y'know, I'm so sorry it's just so inconvenient for you that I'm not okay, or that Mae or Akavir or whoever the fuck else isn't either. Yeah, no, totally the time to make it about you, isn't it?
By the time she'd registered her surroundings, car alarms drilling her eardrums, both of them were gone into the brush. God fucking dammit!