Isabelle's favorite hobby was to water flowers.

Fauna's sweaty hoof clutched the shotgun in her hand, staring down the barrel at the small, yellow dog crawling along the floor of Residential Services. The carpet was stained red. She had gotten here too late.

Isabelle's once cheerful laugh was now replaced with pained, labored breathing as the dog's bloodshot eyes remained locked on the deer in front of her. Fauna knew the signs all too well. Her friend was nearly gone. Her body was fighting off the infection of the T-Virus… and it was losing. Fauna instinctively took a step back only to find her back was now pressed against the hall's front doors.

Nowhere left to run.

The bite marks on Isabelle were prominent: one on her shoulder, two on her sides. Fauna gulped. For a moment, she wished there was a god - wished there was someone to send this suffering creature to - but she knew no god would allow this to happen. She readied her hoof against the shotgun's trigger.

"P-plea…se…"

Fauna's blood ran cold as Isabelle's voice croaked out from the dying creature, the small dog dragging itself onto the carpet in front of her.

"P-pull the… trigger… F…auna…"

For a moment, Fauna froze. She thought of the afternoons she would spend talking to Isabelle about how their island was coming along. She thought about the dog's perky voice ringing out across the island during morning announcements wishing everyone a great start to their day. She thought of the potted flowers she had given Isabelle for her birthday. Pink roses.

Then, Fauna pulled the trigger.

Fauna couldn't tell if the ringing in her ears was from the blast of the shotgun or the adrenaline, but the silence that followed caught in her throat and made her eyes water. She had to run. The noise would attract them. She prayed to a god she knew didn't exist as she walked past the prone body of her former friend. There was no time for feelings: she was on a mission.

It was casualties like this that had made Fauna carry a gun. Gone were the days of reading plant books by the river. Now… now she needed justice. She needed to stop this damn virus from taking any more of her friends. This wasn't the life they'd signed up for, and she would do whatever it took to make the Nook corporation pay.

As Fauna hopped the desk of Residential Services, something caught her eye. Fresh water dripped from the leaves of the potted pink rose on Isabelle's desk, and the small watering can nearby had smudged blood along its handle. Fauna covered her mouth with her hoof as her legs went weak, a pained sob catching in her throat.

Even with her dying breath, Isabelle had watered the flowers.