Lake Bismuth I don't know what to do without you

It was not uncommon to wonder where wolves went upon death, and yet the question had become so real after the death of his wife. A common theory he had come across was that they were reflected in the stars, and one only needed to look up to see their lost loved one's once again. He thought it to be silly, but the sight of pools of water alight with the very stars he had dismissed managed to bring him to a full stop.

He laid now next to a pool, gazing down with a look that could only be longing. Eğer gerçekten yıldızların arasındaysan, umarım seni ne kadar özlediğimi biliyorsundur. He whispered the words for only himself and the pool of water to hear. Maybe they would send his message up to the stars.

The night was silent, Kemal taking it in the best he could for he knew that come morning he would once again be surrounded by the sound of life.

the night was silent and the air was warm; he coasted in the dark, wings blotting out starlight on occasion.

the gleam of a white knife - beak. a ruddy aura catching across his bony, red capped face.

he was a smudge of shadow across the water; then his figure grew, and grew, and the wind drew him around and to a flanking position of the earthbound figure.

the bird coasted high enough to be safe, but not so high as to be ignored. he was a blood hunter - and a hungry one.

Wings crossing the dark sky caused him to look up. Vulture; circling, watching, waiting. He finds it to be a bit ironic.

His relationship with such creatures has always been one of pure neutrality. The opinion he held of them did not sway either which way. There was an understanding that the relationship they shared was mutually beneficial, but not much more.

He wonders what it must be like, to fly above the rest of the world. He wonders if in the same way the vulture wonders what it is like to have legs that can cross plains with such ease.

perhaps the wolf was sick? vulture senses were attuned to scents, and so it was this that qapnuk studied now: whether there was any sign of quick working illness, or something slow. there was no blood scent - so, no wounds upon the thing.

he waits, coasting, studying. when there was nothing to suggest he may witness a death from an otherwise healthy body, qapnuk clacked his beak and wheeled to another patch of sky.

not yet gone, but not so interested.

The bird flew away.

For one reason or another, Kemal stood and began to follow.

His pace careful, form silent, some would mistake him for a stalking predator if not for his gait which spoke of pure curiosity. The creature appealed to him; their inability to communicate in a verbal sense furthering this. He was not one for conversation.

He could not go far, Leandros would be expecting his return, but he could watch for a time. A treat.

he paid no mind to the wolf now that he was crossing wide swaths of terrain from above, free of obstacles.

what might take a wolf time and effort to hike, qapnuk could cover in moments.

there were notes of something rancid in the air, now. perhaps the wolf would come to notice this too, but for qapnuk the scent - and taste - was immediate and alluring. he clacked his beak and turned his head, that long featherless neck shifting to point him in the correct direction.

the grass was gold, everywere—until it wasn't. it appeared to rust. the color concentrated just over another hill, and it is to this spot that the vulture soars, circling. the body of something large—maybe a pronghorn, maybe a foal of some kind—was lost among the golden tendrils of the grass.

he gives a croak of glee, but does not descend.