days like these - Printable Version

It watched, breathing slow and noisily through his nose, as the tamarin seemed to flinch at the question. The thing wearing the numbat's skin gathered enough energy to smile encouragingly, although it was a rather weak attempt. "If anyone can help me, it's you," he assured, reaching out to pat at Diot's arm when the boy shuffled closer. He almost missed the flurry of words that came next, consciousness fading, but the chuckle capped off the exclamation and It groaned internally.

Oh great. He found the grave. Why'd we make that, again? It's grip on Diot's arm shifted to his hand, pressing their paws together while the tamarin continued to root for herbs. "Sorry... seems... a bit... inadequate," It finally managed to string together, wincing at his own cowardice. "I was... in a bad... state a' mind, at the time." Not much of a defense, but the only explanation the numbat could offer.

He still remembered the bone-deep fear settling in clear as day, walking then running then screaming through the trees, desperately trying to find his son. Louie's sickness and his own starvation made him collapse after an hour, panting and wheezing, crying into the dirt. After that, he'd given himself a week - Eridanus wasn't huge, and if someone wanted to be found, they would be. A week.

After a week, he made the grave.