Neverwinter Forest what did you bury

He had been making regular stops at the gorge to try and fish up something for the pups, and for the mothers, and for Scimitar; he hardly thought of his own hunger through all of this, and ate only when the need was most dire. Thus, the old man had become even more weathered by time and circumstance. His pelt hung raggedly from his body, tangled and disheveled where it wasn't matted. His face was gaunt, and he wore his age blatantly; the hollows of his cheeks was mirrored across his entire design like a fine sculpture: his hips and shoulders were butresses of stone, and the gap of his belly, the undulating tin of his ribcage, everything, worked together to make him seem like an ambling corpse. It was not far off, his death. But Njal persisted with all the charisma of a mad man; he had made a fresh hole that was a touch too big for any fish he had ever caught, and was searching the forest's debris for his catch, ready to deposit this new thing in to the ground for safe-keeping. Except that he had not been to the gorge today, he had not been in three whole days in fact, and what he searched for was an idle thought within his mind. Growing frustrated, he kicked a patch of new grass and soil back in to the hole, and grumpily returned to pacing across the terrain.