Blackfeather Woods revival

the water slipped easily from her fur — in a short while, she was returned to herself, and rose on tottering thin limbs, blinking into the cold. the sounding of a voice nearby drew her eye, and she did not startle, somehow strangely comforted by the unkempt presence of 
sheogorath came the unbidden whisper, and the woman closed her eyes, willing it away. she had only just awoken; she refused to be subjected to the whims of her thawing mind.
words rose finally to her throat, but the skeletal tyro remembered swiftly she had been divested of her ability to speak. and so on stiff legs she approached the man, whose scent she recalled only from the clutching recesses of her memory, her eyes narrowed as she attempted to think of his name. he was not only sheogorath. there had been another name. the pallid beast concentrated as she closed the space between herself and the patchwork man, only to stumble as pain radiated abruptly through her skull. 
gasping, she gave a strangled whine, dipping her muzzle toward the earth and closing shut her eyes until the horrid sensation passed. lifting her gaze once more, she recalled the syllables of the word he had spoken. relmyna. was this her? the tyro inquired with pleading in her stare of sheogorath — would he give her his other name? was there another? and relmyna — was that herself?