Lost Creek Hollow garden song

change came to wren's body slowly, and then all at once.
in the weeks following the wives' return to riverclan, wren did her best to settle. menial tasks of marking borders and hunting eased her worries, gave her something to do; until the sickness inevitably set in.
she and silvertongue spent many mornings, noons and nights in the throes of it together, and in a way, wren found it funny. she wiped tears from her wife's cheeks, preened her fur and held her when it finally subsided, only for her to descend into the same spells of nausea and fatigue; sometimes only hours later.
and while silvertongue glowed in pregnancy, the soft curves of her figure only highlighted and made even more appealing in the eyes of the devoted wife, wren may as well have been a medieval wivestale gone horribly wrong. for the first few weeks there was nothing, until one day she woke on the wrong side of the bed. her belly began to distend in weird ways, her face and feet swelled, and her fur thinned into splotchy patches of ugly beige-brown tufts.
but worst of all was the sinking, dismal fear that began to plague her. what if they grow to hate her with the same disdain she holds for their grandparents? what if the cycle is not broken with her? how could a parent even do such a thing to their own child? is she capable of that?
what if she does not love them?
there were many moments spent weeping beneath the shade of the hollow's oaks, and then soaking in the pools to rid herself of the stains. now, in fact, was one of those; staring down at her bloodshot reflection and the slight, but noticeable plumpness to her torso, and wondering if she will see him again in the eyes of her children.

Ash was firther along than the wives of Riverclan and thus. Her sickness had begun to abate. But where her sickness was gone. The swelling of body had begun. Her belly well rounded, she looked a bit like a barrel with legs. Her body having its own rollicking gate that would have been at home on a penguin or a dodo bird, but just looked comical on the multicolored wolf.

But she had not been blind to the ways Wren and Silver had changed. Or the tears that had plagued the she wolf or at the very least the tear teacks left not so much privy to the tears themselves.

So today she set forward. In her maw a ginger root and a small rabbit fur. She wasn't a wolf that could gather large game, but small game didn't elude her.

She settled away and chuffed. Certain to give the other woman her space. Though Ash had to shift a few times to get her body right

it was as if the deity in the sky above had shone down on her and said, here, child, allow me to make this situation infinitely more awkward for you. wren recognized the light footfalls of ash star before she saw the mottled form out of the corner of her eye, and immediately, she felt her throat close up on itself.
if there was any way to convince this woman that she was not, in fact, crazy, this was not the way to go about it. the warrior shakes off the rivulets of water that stream from her forehead as she turns toward her, sniffling. pregnancy hormones, she says flatly, smiling in an attempt to play it off. sorry. i can, um, leave, if you want.

Ash Star shook her head and sighed. She held up a paw and frowned. No, no you needn't. I. Hmm. I believe we were on the wrong foot. Yes. Therefore. Since our children will be raised together in the pack at least. Perhaps we can start again.

Ash frowned in thought. Trying to work through what she could say. She didn't trust Wren implicitly yet. But she did need to get on some sort of different footing.

I mispoke.I am not good at being kind. I am rather callous. Prideful. Haughty. I know this. But.

She tilted an ear forward. When I had spoken with you before. My concern for both you and Silvertongue was paramount, but I approached it wrongly. I am a practiced healer. So I notice many things. And I was afraid that in your effort to externalize your emotions and Silver's effor to internalize it could be bad. But I hvae been proven wrong. So I apologize for my assumptions.

She blinked blue eyes then. Having spoken more than she ever did. And it was bitter this medicine. She hated apologies.

ash star was apologizing.
and, despite her gut telling her not to, wren listens. her guard remains up, soft innards shielded by a steel wall, but she listens — admittedly, it was noble of ash star to admit her own faults, and wren found satisfaction in this.
i can't say i blame you, the songbird finally answers, a soft note of sadness leaping into her tone. i get it. you just wanted to protect your home. i, um, i appreciate the apology, though.
she isn't sure what else to say. how exactly does one do this kind of thing? she thinks back to her time in swiftcurrent, how she'd navigated rockiness with akavir and arric. their trust in her had been earnest and true from the beginning — this was different. much so.
she feels a pang of guilt as she remembers their faces.

Ash was rather disgusted to be apologizing. Only because she was so abhorrently bad at them. And she always felt as if her apologies fell flat. When in reality, she meant them, but not in the way sthat most people did. She wasn't sure if she was entirely normal, honestly.

Ash nodded her head sadness in her face. Crowfeather hurt her very badly, by no means of his own. They hurt each other. And before that. She let it fall. She knew some of the horrors that befell Silver, but not all, and she didn't want too. Unless Silvertongue wanted to tell her.

She took a breath and gave a tiny shake of her head. I was more worried for her than the clan. It could burn to the ground as long as those inside it's walls were safe.

Ash looked around. Are you finding Riverclan to your liking?