Moonspear feed the bear

the alpine brush is enough to disguise pauk as he crawls away from the ulaq, slipping down a shaded path that wove between the evergreens and sprouted with weeds from infrequent use. what he sought was something he'd found the other day while on a little mid-afternoon walk.
the half-eaten, partially rotten corpse of a fish, pulled from the snowmelt ponds by what must have been some kind of raptor. one could see the talon-marks, the missing scales, the glassy eyes, the tiny, delicate ribs which interlaced the poor creature's inner cavity.
and what pauk wanted with this fish was not to pull it apart, nor eat it, but to bury it.
from the undergrowth he'd plucked a beautiful, newly bloomed lupine, and found a curious selection of small, smooth rocks which would serve as decoration. his problem now was the task of digging a hole. his paws are large, as one typically sees in a boy of his junior standing, but not exactly the strongest; and the terrain is tough on this side of the mountain, hardened by thousands of tiny roots which belonged to plants of the forest floor.
what on earth was one meant to do in such a predicament?

Treepie sprawled on their back on “their” overhang, tracing the shapes of clouds with one little black forepaw. They hummed under their breath, a wordless tune. Maybe lyrics would come to them, though perhaps not.

They heard footsteps and arched their head, watching from upside down as Pauk sneaked out of the ulaq. Intrigued by his furtive behavior, Pie flipped over onto their belly, then hopped to their feet. Quickly, they climbed down from their perch to follow after him.

By the time they caught up to their brother, Pauk was hard at work. Tiuttuk’s eyes tracked over his handiwork, wondering if perhaps he was digging a new larder. Or perhaps he was hoping to plant the flower, using the dead fish as makeshift compost.

Why does Pauk dig holes?
Does the fish feed the village?
Or feed the flower?

pauk was not alone for long. the melodic — albeit kind of shrieky — tone of his sibling was unmistakable. he ignores the budding annoyance which grappled for his attention in place of entertaining their presence, greeting them with a glance of his baby blues and a thud of his tail.
hi, pie, he responds, shifting his gaze down at his muddied feet which were now flecked with shades of angry, dusky brown. m'buryin' it. it's dead.
he points to the garish talon marks which shredded the flank of the poor thing, which now looked a sickly, muted shade of red. see? some'n deaded it.

Tiuttuk considered Pauk’s words, then nodded.

I see that it’s dead,
Don’t you want to eat it, Pauk?
Where did it come from?

They shifted a little closer to inspect the fish, which was in pretty rough shape. “Som’n deaded it,” he’d said. Pie held out a paw as if to compare and contrast their claws to the slashes in the unfortunate creature.

Would you like some help? Treepie asked without the singsong cadence of their recitations, though they noted the incidental number of syllables with a little grin.

i could, he shrugs with an exaggerated roll of his shoulders. but it kinda stinks. n' it's got too many... scales.
where tiuttuk was apparently in their ask a million questions phase, pauk had a myriad of simple, honest answers in return. i dunno, he fights the urge to shrug again, instead crouching aside with a tiny flicker of his teeth from between his dark lips as they draw near. i found it over here. it was dead. so i wannid to bury it. dead, dead, dead. he liked the way the word sounded as it rolled from his tongue.
if you wanna, he offers; not necessarily declining, but not exactly greeting them with enthusiasm, either — which was less of their fault, and more of the fact that the boy had a general disinterest in most things. he surveys them with a slight furrow of his brow. unless you wanna eat it.

It was true, the dead fish wasn’t very appealing. Treepie still wondered how it had gotten here, and in such terrible shape. Perhaps a pack mate had fished it out of one of the mountain streams, eaten some of it and discarded the rest? Why hadn’t they put their leftovers in a stockpile? Maybe there was something wrong with the fish? Perhaps Pauk sensed this, in which case burying it was sensible.

Pie shook their head and smiled at his question, saying, I can help you dig a hole, and already began kneading their toes into the soil, shoveling it backward between their crouched hind legs.

They paused after a moment to catch their breath, their yellow eyes drifting to the flower and stones again, prompting them to wonder aloud, Are we burying those too?

It seemed kind of a shame to put such pretty objects under the dirt, though this was Pauk’s project and Pie was only here to help. If their brother wanted to put them in the hole, than that’s exactly what they would do.

nah, they're for d-- de-- to make it look pretty, pauk murmurs, bashfully sweeping his choice of funerary decor off to the side. so you know sumn's in the ground.
pie was quick to assist him, and now pauk found himself appreciating the help; four paws could do a whole lot more than two. a rather hefty pile of debris and dirt began to build up alongside a sizeable divot in the forest floor.
y'think it's ready yet? he asks, squinting and reaching up to dust off his brow, swiping a branding of dirt upon his face in the process.

Decorate? Treepie offered helpfully, tail stirring as they considered Pauk’s innovation.

They toiled together for a while, digging deep enough that Pie’s hind legs teetered precariously at the edge of the hole. They grunted as they pushed out of it, backing up a few steps and clapping soil off their paws. Their yellow eyes regarded the piles of earth before cutting to their brother’s face.

Yes, they answered, reaching out to wipe away the smear of dirt on his face, only to make it worse due to the filth on their own paws. Sorry! Pie laughed, trying to rub his cheek.

yeah, that. a memorial, of sorts, for a fish with no name who had met a brutal end.
pauk carefully takes the body between his teeth — scrunching his nose at the smell in the process — and lowers it into the makeshift grave, muttering something unintelligible in sunshine tongue. he reaches over the hole with the intention of starting the burial process, only to be met with the whap of a paw to his temple.
he pauses, momentarily looking as if he might be angry, until a tiny, devilish smirk crawls up his dark muzzle. giggling, he kicks a flurry of dirt in pie's direction, purposefully aiming for their face.

Their heart skipped a beat when they saw a black cloud brewing on Pauk’s face, though it quickly gave way to a mischievous smirk. Treepie let out a little titter of relief, then a playfully indignant cry when he kicked dirt in their face. They threw up their forelegs to shield themself and signal surrender.

Still, a bit of soil found its way into their right eye. They flicked their head, turning away from Pauk and lowering one foreleg to balance on it while the other came up to rub at their eye. It watered, causing them to blink rapidly, and still they could feel the irritation of grit stuck in there.

It feels like I have,
The whole earth stuck in my eye!
Time to find water.

The haiku came out in a singsong voice despite their discomfort. Treepie shot their brother a one-eyed smile, wondering if he would continue working on his project or follow along as they scurried off to rinse out their poor eyeball.

pauk's oh shit moment was almost instantaneous as he rushes to his feet and scrambles for his sibling, instinctively reaching up to snuffle against their cheek. he can feel their eyeball beneath the scrunched lid when he runs his tongue soothingly over it, and it creates a strange feeling that prickles and twists his gut.
here, lemme help, he peels away, clumsily and awkwardly gesturing for them to lean upon him if needed. i'll guide ya. c'mon. we'll go back toward the ulaq.
he shuffles alongside them, keeping a close eye on their grimacing face. it takes him a moment to find the words, but he suddenly croaks out an i'm sorry, nape bristling uncomfortably. i didn't mean it. he didn't mean it, and he did not like that he'd hurt them — but why did he struggle so much with saying it?

Pauk scrambled after them. Tiuttuk welcomed the damp press of his nose despite their distraction. He insisted on helping, to which Treepie shot him a little smile. They nodded. They could see pretty well out of their good eye, though they appreciated their brother’s desire to assist.

It’s okay! Pie reassured as they shuffled along. We were just playing. It was an accident. It’s not like I’m mad, they emphasized with a titter at such an absurd thought. I just need to splash a lil’ water on my face, then I’ll be right as rain.

you sure? pauk asks, the knot twisting further in his belly. i'onno, i'm just worried. 'cause like, what if the dirt makes your eye all infected, n' then it falls out? or somethin'.
his mind swirls with the image — his sibling, screeching, rocking back and forth as agonizing pain paralyzes them at their panicking mother's feet; scarlet trailing the den floor; a grotesque, swollen milk-white eyeball rolling to a stop in front of pauk.
biting down on his tongue to stop himself from feeling sick, he shifts beneath the pressure of tiuttuk's weight uncomfortably. i think we should have mom look at it, still.

Last from me! :)

Treepie’s nose wrinkled at Pauk’s evocative imagery. Where did he come up with such things? Despite their mild disgust, they couldn’t help but laugh. Pie could recognize a fellow creative, even if their brother tended toward the more macabre side of things!

I will, they soothed, pointing at a small stream ahead.

Gently, they peeled apart from him and parked beside the water. Pie bent and began splashing it in their face with both paws. They gave a little shout at the chill but didn’t stop until their face was dripping wet.

Ah, Tiuttuk said, blinking rapidly and resisting the temptation to swipe at their face, much better! Now, they continued in the very next breath, let’s go find anang just to be really, really sure.

They hooked a wet paw around Pauk’s elbow, giving it a little tug. Grinning soggily, Treepie then turned and began loping toward the family’s ulaq, where surely they would find Sialuk.