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.