Hushed Willows This is something monstrous and magical. Beyond science; beyond reason.

Tambourine no longer actively missed his mother, nor looked for her. Truthfully, he could hardly remember what she looked like or how her voice sounded anymore. Her scent was nothing more than a vague sense memory. That was the blessing and curse of youth. Stark was his parent now, in all the ways that really counted. The pup wasn't even aware of the brokenness of his own family. He was happy with his life in the Keep.

Stark's wavering howl caught the boy in the middle of a snack. He looked up from the half-finished rabbit, licked his chops, then pushed the food aside and jumped to his feet. He loped swiftly to heed the Alpha's call, always happy to see him. Halfway there, it occurred to him that he might be in trouble. He paused for a few beats, running through a list of his recent activities, and decided there was nothing particularly terrible in there. He'd gotten sick a few days ago and pooped in the den but he had been assured it was an accident and that he wasn't in trouble.

"Stark!" the youngster shouted as soon as he caught sight of the leader. "Banner!" he added, a smile in his voice when he saw the Beta was there too. Then his eyes dropped to something at their feet and he blurted, "What's that?" He moved closer, neck craning out to sniff, only to pull back a little at the vaguely familiar smell drenched in the scent of death. Tambourine's nose wrinkled but he kept staring, fascinated by what was obviously the dead body of a wolf. It looked so weird—strange enough that the boy had no idea he was looking at his own mother's corpse.