Death wasn’t something new to Grinroot. He had seen it many times before. As a druid, it was only natural to outlive many of the creatures he had sworn to protect. Yet, this time felt different. The oldest Skirja of the herd, rescued and brought to the Veiled Haven just days ago, lay before him in what seemed to be its final hours. These majestic creatures had quickly bonded with him, and now he watched one struggle, a pang of sorrow in his heart.
The fresh snow that blanketed the grounds of the Veiled Haven sparkled under the pale winter sun. The cold air bit at his cheeks, refreshing yet solemn. Both Totrin and Othar had described winters in Doskvale as harsh and sudden, and Grinroot now understood why.
As Grinroot pondered the events of the previous night—when the magical barrier protecting the Veiled Haven fell (*the same sensation Grinroot felt when approaching the Haven)—he felt a renewed sense of duty to ensure the herd's safety. Lady Esmerelda's fear had been palpable, and that unease now drove him to watch over the Skirja, this bond calling him like an unspoken promise.
Grinroot knelt beside the aged Skirja, placing a gentle hand on its side. Perhaps he could ease its final moments. Roll a Wisdom DC 12 check (+2 to your roll).