Northstar Vale plenty of folk want our kind dead

Nose down, she trailed the borders—taking in the scenery before her and yet feeling utterly hollow. As such, her honeyed eyes were lacking before they fell upon the muddled form of… something… in the snow. A frown knit her copper brows—muzzle tilting before she moved closer to investigate—and then it rushed over her—a nauseating smell.

She moved closer, and when she realized it was the fallen form of a man, she could barely hold back the wretch from her throat, her eyes narrowing upon him—not knowing where to even start with this one. “Hey. Wake up?”

Check if he was alive, first, she guessed.