Shadewood two hearts, too hard

The boy says he doesn't miss them. And maybe that were true; maybe he hadn't enough memory of them to even know who to miss; maybe he had no memories to look back on with a tightened chest.
And maybe it was better that way.
I prayed, for a while, he draws a breath, then, a clench to the knuckles of his forepaws. but I stopped one day. Whatever I was doin' wasn't enough for the man upstairs to answer me, apparently. I don't know if I ever really thought he was there.
Another pause.
But, um, I'onno. I grew up real fast. Had no choice. Taught myself everything I know now.
And then, a look.
I don't want that for you, kid.
His steps land upon the edge of a sturdy rock along the riverbank. The boy hollers, as if setting a challenge, and Boone chuffs out a loose chuckle. I bet you can.
He stares down into the ruddy water as it weaves around debris, soaked twigs and moss and fallen leaves. And there, they would wait. Watch where you step, and keep your eyes peeled.