Bearclaw Valley death note

Set on 8/28, afternoon and after this thread. Goodbye my little heathen.

It was almost as though she were sleeping, the way she lay here now. Her white coat nearly cleaned off from the rains. Her delicate, little frame was curled up like one might in winter, with her body rounded as her muzzle tucked under the length of plush tail furs. And she had been cold, very cold. 

She had every intention of making her way back home, but she had become so tired, to warn with blood loss and travel even though Easthollow was not at all far. And then the rains picked up, a crack of thunder giving a sudden warning before the floodgates opened. She had no choice but to stop, to rest. 

Morning come and the adrenaline she had once held the night before had all but zapped her. She was worse even. How ever would she make it home? She tried to call, but the rains kept falling, drowning out her cries for help. Drowning out her plea for her little hellions of Ursus to come save her. She had to get home. 

So she walked. The heavy rains stinging her wounds, rushing the blood out of them, chilling her to her bones. But she had come this far and the towering rocks of Ursus lie just beyond. She had made it, she was home. Sure that she was safe now at the outskirts of the meadow, Rosina laid down to rest. But no saviors came, and she didnt wake up.

Ursus' little white witch was gone.