Barrow Fields Wore my language like an amaranth and brand on my tongue

She departed the cliffs without thought.  Rosalyn would not be gone long, but she felt if she stayed any longer she might crawl out of her own skin.  Grief had knocked her sideways and, not for the last time, she truly felt her age.

So this was the curse of surviving.  Watching those she held dear disappear around her; even those who deserved far longer lives than she.  And still.... even now, she could not find death.

She hadn't escaped unscathed.  The mauling was fresh, a new batch of wicked weals that would join the map of past horrors.  But her body was not what failed her now.  She was a shell both inside and out, fractured more within than her wounds could tell.  And as she walked, she replayed it, over and over.  Like some sick, twisted torment.

Raleska, coming to her pregnant, asking about children and life.  So much joy... pure love.

Her head, split, staring sightless.  Even numb, she stopped as she was gripped, shoulders hunched.  Why.  Why her.  Of anyone.... It was a cruel thought.  But if it were the pack or her children, her choice was clear every time.  She'd have traded a thousand Ironseas.

The pirate was suddenly too overwhelmed to take another step.  She gritted her teeth and remained frozen, shaking with energy that she had nowhere to put.  With a sudden hiss she lashed out, tearing with first one forepaw, then the other, gashes in the snow and frozen earth at her feet.  She attacked it in a wild frenzy as her breath heaved in sobs.

The bear was long gone... but this hatred was a poison going nowhere soon.

for @Ephraim if you like!!!