It had been a hard winter for Ross, a cough that had lingered, before his strength was sapped, the ever present cold that chilled hom to the bone, he could never fet rid of it no matter how hard he tried.
And then one night with a pat to Milos head as he cuddled the fox, he drifted off to sleep While Nimeway checked the children, never to wake again. The sickness had taken its toll and quietly it took the old warrior in his sleep, letting him finally get the rest he had wanted for years.
No battles for this one, no death in a heroic, or foolish charge, just a quiet passing in his sleep.
He had thought about going this way, but did not think ot would be on him as suddenly as it was.
