Swiftcurrent Creek when the outside temperature rises

Maggots. Jakub supposed that's what the white things were, twisting and writhing like worms. Once he was satisfied not a single one remained on his body, he turned to look at Arric once more, chewing silently on the question for a heartbeat.

No, he decided. What was there to help with? He hadn't even known what he was doing with the body, anyway. He bent, nosing at one of the glossy wings.

Pretty, and relatively fleshless. Not much rot to be found.

Jakub took the base of the feathery limb gently but firmly in his mouth and began to tug. Saw, and tug. Saw, and tug.

Soon, the boy stepped back, having separated the wing from that reeking dark pile, and after a sidelong glance at Arric, began to walk without much purpose toward his mother's whelping den.