At the End of the World

Corbin had missed out on so many fun explorations while he was blind and he’d been doing his best lately to make up for it.  He wasn’t too far from the pack land, just a short way into the forest having a great time when a sound pierced the air.  That was Dad, calling for aid!  Corbin ran, ready to fight off any beast or face any natural disaster.  Whatever danger Dad was in he’d help him!

Corbin had been close but, not close enough and so he’d get to live another day.  There was a mess on the ground, a corpse of some unlucky creature.  He didn’t look close though, not giving it attention as he spotted Dad’s wings and soon made out the face.  The sight was unreal enough it took a second to soak in.  Dad’s body wasn’t behind his head, the head was on the rock.  Corbin stared in horror, mind frozen from logical thought.  His mind was trying to make him speak, to ask his dad to prove this was some sick joke and he was really ok.  Somehow it couldn’t be real.
It was real.

Logical hard truth attacked the naïve child’s wishes.  The more he tried to deny it the more real it was.  The fight in his head seemed to go on for ages but it was hardly a few beats of his heart.  Slowly, another sickening realization started to float into his mind.  Did he dare turn to look at the corpse again?  Corbin shivered, clenching his eyes shut and telling himself desperately to wake up from this nightmare.  It couldn’t be real and if he didn’t look it wouldn’t be.  
He was still staring at his dad’s head and wings.  

It was so hard, turning his head had never been harder.  If the amount of blood he’d ignored around the head and wings hadn’t been enough then there was plenty to show off at the body.  This was too much.  Corbin stumbled once as he walked to his father’s remains.  It wasn’t even a simple death but one that had been caused by torture.  

He hadn’t wanted to see and now Corbin could see nothing else.  His paws stepped in the blood around his father's body, not noticing how it seeped onto his paws.  “Da-“ the word choked off at hardly more than a whisper.  His chest heaved as if he’d cry, his breathing had deepened but somehow the sobbing was held at bay.  He tried to speak again but nothing came out.  He looked from the body back to the head.

The world was swirling around as his mind tried to accept what his eyes told him.  Which part was even more the dad remains, the one to focus on?  Which part was where he went to for that last touch for that, for that what?  Corbin’s breath broke and a sob erupted followed by his own howl filled with horrible pain.

Shivering, the boy stumbled back to his father's head and with a keening whine gently picked it up, the muzzle pointed down so he couldn’t see his father's sightless eyes.  The head was carried back to the body, resting it near the neck joint.  Corbin turned planning to get the wings, the taste of his father's blood soaking his mouth. Dizzyness overcame him and his stomach had enough.  Corbin wretched up bits of food remains and mostly bile from his stomach.  When done he took another step but looking at those wings the boy found himself trying to wretch again but there was nothing else in him to throw up.

It felt like ages but he headed back to the wings, to repeat the process of carrying them one at a time back to the body. Mentally exhausted Corbin lay down next to his smaller father. “Dad…” a soft keened whine, laying his head near his father’s, trying to ignore how it wasn’t attached to the body.  He should leave, get away from seeing this, and yet he couldn’t leave that corpse.  The moment he left this spot it would be that much more real.  Tears flowed down his cheeks, choked-off sobbing happening in random bursts as memories of happy days with Dad kept coming to mind.
He'd kill whoever did this.

"Family"