Oh How The Creeks, They Cried

Gavroche didn’t understand. He had expected their mother to be furious, but she was only sad. He had withdrawn to a den of his own, hardly wanting to come out, but today was an exception. The winged boy dragged himself out of the den, looking a bit of a mess himself. His fur was patchy, and even some of the spots of his wings were looking thinner. It might have looked like he’d been scratching the fur and feathers out, but Gavroche hadn’t even touched them. They were just falling out and away from his body… He didn’t think about it. He just felt heavy, dragging himself to where the funeral was to take place. He saw his aunt there, his parents, and grandmother, but his shame kept him away from seeking the comfort of any of them. He sat alone, green gaze focused on the earth. He had tears in his eyes, running down his cheeks… “Sorry Baecette…”

"Speech," 'Thought.'