He cursed his death. Damned the beast that shattered him, angered that he had failed after all the years waiting and searching for the wretched monster only to be killed by it. Ultimately he could not change what had happened and it frustrated him to no end unable to escape the field of roses. Te last moments had been quick, the beast was swift, and despite all of his training, he could not keep up with the beast's erratic movement. He remembered feeling his body suddenly crushed by immense pressure, then there had been a crack and numbness. How long he had been stuck in the field of flowers he could not say, nothing changed in this realm and time seemed nonexistent. He wandered on end nothing stopping him until some point he came across someone weeping it. The sound broke him from his thoughts and curses. He had not seen anyone else here upon his arrival. He at first could not see who was weeping, and believed it was all in his head, finally succumbing to some form of madness until he finally could make out a shape of a woman who's clothes matched the same color of the roses in the realm. He wandered closer to the woman who seem oblivious to him even being there. She continued to weep and as he got closer, he noticed the crimson blood staining her, the only color in the sea of white all around. The closer he got the more encumbered he felt, the more his limbs felt numb.

"Perhaps rest will clear my mind," he mumbled before toppling over, drifting in and out of consciousness only the sound of the woman's weeping came to his ears until he lost consciousness.

He felt cold, cold that was enough to numb a man to his bone. His mind slowly awoke not sure where he was. He did not remember feeling cold in the realm of white roses yet something told him that he was far from that place now. Where he was not sure until he finally sat up. He saw around him snow but his mind couldn't comprehend why? He was dead, he knew that he had been yet here was snow. The scenery was not much different from the sea of white roses but it was the cold that made him certain he was alive, the warmth of blood running through his veins keeping him only slightly warm along with his gear, gear that seemed to of been untouched. Had this been his place of death that final day? It was the only thing he could think of why he was alone in the middle of wilderness. No one knew where he had been, he had always worked alone in his hunts and lived mostly in the wilderness. Being back to life brought him a sense of new vigor and strength as he stood up. He was alive and he could continue his task but first he had to find the nearest city. Something internally said to move south and so he did, beginning his long journey south to the nearest city, trudging through the snow one foot at a time.