Dawnlark Plains when god falls fast asleep

He felt alone. Somewhere between the shock and grief, the confused scramble to figure out what they would do without Grayday, River had been forgotten. Well, not entirely. His mother cared for him, his siblings existed by his side as they always had— but no one seemed to pay him much attention anymore.
A few days felt such an eternity to the pup. He desperately craved attention even when he received a steady supply— and now, now he felt like he was drowning. His father was gone, his mother not herself, and River found little solace in his equally-affected siblings. Gripped by a melancholy far too heavy for his young age, River crept quietly from the den he shared with his littermates and mother. He wondered if he had done something wrong, remembered the coldness of his father against him; maybe if he hadn't touched him, maybe if he hadn't followed Kitten from the den at all, he would not feel so alone now. Maybe it was a punishment, of sorts? It was certainly an effective one.