The smell of decaying flesh was putrid. It was mixed into the fog and orange leaves, burning the inside of the yearling’s nose. Fall had come, and along with it: death. He had been drawn to it like a curious child. At first, fear had sped his heart rate up, made his fur raise, but after a few sniffs the adrenaline died down. He became attracted to the smell, drawn to it. He inched himself towards the animal graveyard with his head lowered- skeptical, hesitant. When the smell became stronger, his confidence grew. He found himself marching around the animal remains, satisfied by their existence.
He carried a femur bone in his mouth, likely the from a deceased coyote. It tasted like dirt and smelt rotten. There was no meat left on it, maggots had devoured the remains long ago, leaving nothing but the white charred texture. There was no marrow left inside, no matter how much the boy tried to suck it out. It was useless, but the yearling refused to let it go. He gnawed at it mindlessly, stomping around the skeletons with little respect for the dead.
Eventually, he grew familiar with the smell and began to inquire about the bodies. He sniffed them, pawed at pieces of spine and chest. He rolled over torsos, watching the worms from beneath squirm around. He didn’t dare eat any of the meat, but he continued to investigate them. His nose pressed into the pelt of a recently deceased coyote, feeling the texture of his fur and the stillness of his chest. “Good riddance,” he hissed, pressing his small paw against the vermin’s face cruelly. He hoped the shithead had suffered.