Swiftcurrent Creek when the outside temperature rises

There was a dead crow past the edge of the rendezvous. It was under a tree, so its rot hadn't progressed as much as if it'd been in the sun.

Still, it reeked.

And as Jakub drew closer to the ragged, glossy-dark thing, he couldn't help but think of his mother.

Dead? Or just gone?

It would be better if she were dead, he decided silently, sitting beside the black corpse. His nostrils flared and wrinkled, yet still he stayed. Taking in the fumes.

He was rotten inside already. Might as well become one with the rot.

His beautiful, perfect solar-system world—three tiny planets around an ebony sun—had dissolved. Everything and everyone had scattered.

And Mother was gone.

Gone. Not dead.

Jakub's lower lip trembled for an instant before he forced it upright, clenching his teeth. He reached down to seize the crow by its nape instead, dragging it slowly and carefully away.

To where? He didn't know.

Why? Who knew.

Bury it with his hopes and dreams, somewhere. Wherever his mother was. Wherever his childhood had died. He'd find a place.

It had been a rotten smell that had caused Arric to go looking for it. Whatever was stinking up the creek, he wanted it gone. But instead he came across Jakub and the smell grew worse. He wrinkled his nose and then ran up to the boy.

Jakub! He called out. He'd been a quiet boy. Didn't seem to take to Arric as much as the other's that didn't mean that he wouldn't try. So it was with a small sense of wariness he approached the youth. But he was not foolish enough to speak out about the bird, was it a bird? Gods he didn't know, but holy hanna.

He couldn't say much, wasn't it a thing for boys to play with dead things, to roll in the things that smelled awful. He could remember doing it. But that didn't seem to be what he was doing.

Arric's call brought the boy to a halt, and he slowly turned his head to give the man a cool stare, bird still in his mouth. His gaze lingered upon the bright ring around one of the beta's eyes; that was strange and diverting. He said nothing, though.

Not even when the corpse took this opportune moment to fall apart, breast separating from the glossy neck he held and hitting the ground with a dull splat.

Jakub's brows drew together, and he broke his stare, looking down upon what had been an intact body. Maggots rippled out, freed from their confines. Two or three wriggled from the neck and began to sluice through the dark fur of his chest, bright and lively against the shadows there.

More frustrated than disgusted, he spat out what was left of what he held and shook himself, hoping to loose the grubs from his pelt.

Stupid Arric. This was his fault, the boy decided.

The emptiness of the stare from the boy made Arric anxious. The way his mother left couldn't have been good for his mental health and probably skewed his love map, but damn.

Arric raised a brow. Thats the thing with dead things. Maggots always find em first. Do you want help?

Arric poised to step forward, but was unsure how the boy would take him. Clearly he had wanted something with the dead thing. But what he had no idea.

Maggots. Jakub supposed that's what the white things were, twisting and writhing like worms. Once he was satisfied not a single one remained on his body, he turned to look at Arric once more, chewing silently on the question for a heartbeat.

No, he decided. What was there to help with? He hadn't even known what he was doing with the body, anyway. He bent, nosing at one of the glossy wings.

Pretty, and relatively fleshless. Not much rot to be found.

Jakub took the base of the feathery limb gently but firmly in his mouth and began to tug. Saw, and tug. Saw, and tug.

Soon, the boy stepped back, having separated the wing from that reeking dark pile, and after a sidelong glance at Arric, began to walk without much purpose toward his mother's whelping den.

There was a hundred yard stare to the boys gaze and it gave Arric the willies honestly. He made a mental note to talk to Akavir about the boy. There was obviously something wrong whether it was grief or anger or both he wasn't sure, but he did know that it needed taken care of before it was too late.

He grimaced inside, because he knew it would be a shitty conversation and Akavir may very well get pissed off. But who wouldn't. YOu didn't necessarily want to hear that your child wasn't handling things healthily. 

Arric watched him go and settled outside the den mouth. He wouldn't bother the boy inside, as this seemed like something he didn't want anyone to be near, but he'd stay in case the youth decided maybe he wanted him.

Arric did, indeed, follow him, though Jakub did not glance back, merely noting the man's presence behind. He arrived at the old den and wriggled inside, dragging the wing with him and placing it upon the spot where his mother had once lain.

He stepped back, looking down. It looked almost perfect.

Almost.

He was seized with the sudden urge to lunge at the thing, to rip it from shred to ebony shred, but held back. Every muscle twitched; every nerve on fire. Anger, heartbreak, confusion all filled the empty cup that was Jakub and spilled over—

And then passed.

Breathing slightly heavier than before, he left his childhood home, backing out and shaking the dirt from his pelt. He turned his gaze toward the Beta, tracking his reaction.

Looked like Mother, he remarked—the most words he'd strung together in a while.

Arric didn't say anything. He waited. He knew in moments like this. It was best if Jakub spoke to him not the other way around. He was well aware of what grief could do. And how you reacted to it.

Arric looked him over and saw the slight heaviness to his breath and he looked up at the sky. You know I lost both my parents. My mom was sick and my dad well let's just say he died nobly. But even if your mama is missing it's still hard.

He took another deep breath and  nodded. I can see that the inky black color.