Serpent Lake skin like daffodils

Potema:

Potema watches as the ashen wolf steps aside, taking the opportunity to venture closer to the edges of the lake, her head dipped to drink. Her tongue is caught outside her mouth, her movements stopped by the sudden call to her attention. The white witch's head raises, looking quizzically at the wolf at first. But her expression quickly slips into surprise, disgust, and annoyance all rolled into one. Excuse me?

The addage of a please fails to soothe her. Potema's lips curl slightly into a sneer, contempt for this wolf who seemed to know her mother growing with each second. Meldresi is dead. She says the words matter-of-factly, the sting of them long since gone for her. Who are you to even demand where she is? He did not have the look of a Melonii, as Miraak did. There was no familiar indigo eyes or raven fur.