Heron Lake Plateau theodore rex

Phox's attention was broken by footsteps, and he looked around to see a wolf coming toward him. A Blackthorn, judging by the stripe along his back and the greyscale fur colors. Phox rattled his brain for a name, but he didn't know Finley's latest batch well, seeing as he hadn't been around for the majority of their lives. Trying to figure out what killed this rabbit, he replied. It doesn't look like it was killed by a wolf. Or any other predator, for that matter. It doesn't smell sick, either. Phox wondered what could have killed it, but the most obvious explanation was a simple one. Might've just gotten too old.