She is confused, but she follows. She watches and absorbs the lesson he teaches, copying his quiet rituals of respect for the dead. Doing so without a word, going through the simple motions. She understands what this is, what this stands for, but it is new. Different. Something she has trouble grasping; a funeral for an animal.

She sits back on her heels after they are finished, her brow furrowed. She thinks about the freezing skin of her mother's cheek, her finger dislodging snow. Her mother's corpse.

"You honor the dead," she says quietly, as if it is a fact that is new to her. She means Logan and the fox. She means her and her mother. She means all those living and their loved ones.

How many loved ones has she slaughtered?