Barrow Fields empyreal.

While he was a monster in spirit, she was a monster of body. She lumbered, not walked, her body shambling in search of something. He speculated at what one thing would bring such a primeval creature to life. He looked towards it, the salted feathered creature, his darkened tongue swiping the last of his meal from his face. He had drunk all it could before it coagulated, and now it was left in the grass, blackened and torn as he watched the creature tear at the grass in search of it. When her sights landed on it, trotted to the corpse, snatching it and returning to her, depositing it at her feet, watching her reaction. Have it, monstru nenorocit, He nudged it towards her. You have more need of it than I,