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

The boy was taking it in stride, something that Stark found himself eternally grateful for. It saved him trying to hold off his own emotions for handling Tambourine's and reassuring the child of life and love and death and all the wonderfully terrible things that made up the world. They were in the same club, now. The motherless - ones who might someday try and achieve greatness just for the sake of a worn out memory. 

"She won't wake up," He agreed quietly, meeting Banner's gaze for a moment before it shifted back to Tambourine. "I think death is like staying asleep - but there aren't nightmares, and it's just peaceful. Like Banner said." There was no way to tell anyways, though Stark was more inclined to think that death was just that. Dead. Nothing. It wasn't like he'd tell that to the boy though right then. "I think what might be nice is if we bury her near the river." Stark said, gaze flickering between both wolves as he looked for approval. He couldn't ask Octavia, after all, but it was a spot that seemed the most appropriate where it was near the aspects of the pack's grounds she had loved. 

"Do you want to help me pick a spot?" He asked the boy - they could choose one together for her.