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

Phillip followed the trail his silver companion blazes. It goes far beyond the realm of ravens, towards one of the few places that were etched in his memory. It’s the place he’d first met Zephyr. Recalling that fateful day brought a smile to his face. Just as soon as it appears however, it’s gone. 

The yearlings ears—which always seem to be glued to his skull—perk up when he heard Zephyr’s distressed voice. His pace quickened, and the closer he got the more prominent that smell became. Phillip couldn’t quite describe what that smell was. Rotting. Similar to a scent he’s come across before, but not quite. Faster he went, and he mentally prepared himself for the worst.

Phillip had seen more bodies than he’d like to in his lifetime. This one is among the few that caused him the most pain. It’s not the deceased herself that brings the most sadness, but the boy who stood over it. He watched from afar, wide eyed, as Zephyr tried to bring life back to the corpse. Grief pulls at Phillip’s chest when he eventually gave up.

A few painfully silent moments passed before he took a few steps forward. Zephyr... The words die in his throat. There’s nothing he could say that could fix this. Nothing could bring this woman back. Phillip could only provide his comfort. He reached out to try to place his chin atop the boy’s head.