Flycatcher Downs sweet little baby in a world full of pain

What the hell is wrong with you?

So much. His head was messed up in so many different ways, and it throbbed now as he pondered the question, still sniffling and trying to regain control of his emotions. Ruby red eyes flickered back over to the bird, and upon closer inspection, it was dead. Not hurt, like he'd initially thought.

Oh. That... made more sense. Hurt things didn't lie so still.

Deciding it was best not to answer the male's question, the piebald boy slowly sat up, mud caked into his white fur from where he'd been tackled to the ground. Another scent reached his nose - vomit permeated the air when the other boy spoke. Concern crossed tearstained features as Clarence looked back at the gray wolf. "Are you sick? I can... uh, get you water, if you need it." That was right, wasn't it? Water when you vomited.