Lake Rodney (Don't fear) the reaper

The shade grunted as he awoke. The chill of early morning had seeped into his bones, stiffening them and locking them into place. Last fall such mornings were accompanied by old throbbing scars in protest of the cold. The year before that, nothing. He huffed, watching his hot breath mingle with the cold air. He was getting old. He stood, stiff, but not entirely painful. The man stretched out his limbs, his back, shook his pelt free of dew. 

He had been tracking a small herd of deer for a while now, eventually going into the Wilderness southeast of the Woods. At the moment, resting in the Haunted Wood seemed a good alternative to trekking all the way back to the Woods as the sun fell. The cold seeping into his bones told him otherwise.

He wanted to pick up the trail of the deer before returning to the Woods, but the sight of a grand lake stretching far in front of him distracted him for the moment. Despite the condensation in the air, Miraak was parched. He loped to the lakeside, his movements rigid as warmth flooded back into his limbs. He bent down to take his fill, his ears twitching towards the sound of moment along the shoreline. He didn't raise his head yet, but kept wary all the same.