Swiftcurrent Creek all the world you roam, turns you into stone

Except Alessia isn't alone — at least, not for very long.
The new leader is in an unusually good mood today, far as he is from his claim. Such a good mood, in fact, that even the growing familiarity of the scenery isn't enough to dampen his spirits. Where normally he might avoid his birthplace, Zephyr finds himself curious to see how it has changed since his last visit. Part of him still considers it his, after all.
The last thing he expects to find is the scent of his mother. Not Rosalie — that might have been welcome. This scent, however, sets his hackles rippling. Alessia. His birth mother. For a moment he considers turning and leaving, before she notices his presence — but there's something off about her scent, something... wrong. As if she's sick. Instinct screams at him to flee, to avoid whatever is ailing the other wolf lest he catch it himself. He ignores it in favor of the sudden coldness in his chest, and pushes forward. « Mom? » He calls hesitantly, hearing a faint call back and turning toward it.
The first thing he thinks is that she looks like shit. Skeletal, fur matted, eyes and nose leaking. Bile burns its way up his throat, chest clenching painfully, and he's in front of her before he knows what he's doing. Cleaning her, more gently than he's ever touched anyone in his life. He can't even process all of the emotions suddenly pouring over him. One minute he'd been blank, apathetic to her existence — the next, a colorful mess of feelings, a bubble rising in his chest like a scream fighting to reach the surface. How could this have happened? « Mom — » He chokes out after a few moments, when her face is clean. « What — you're... you're sick, aren't you? » You're dying, the break in his voice says, you've never done anything but cause me pain and now you're fucking dying.