Blackfeather Woods the story of a ship

He feels a presence somewhere, but could not place it. He figures it is either one of Nemesis' brood or Potema's, a silent child there to watch and observe rather than intervene. He does not mind it — he can handle it on his own, after all. This emaciated woman posed no threat to him, as old as he was. 

Her body, he felt, even in plump, fat summers would be thin and svelte. Some of other men might find her attractive, and while he noted this, he felt no lust to her form, even buried under the dust and dirt from long travel. Miraak watched her body shift away from the carcass and curtsey, curtsey to him, as if he was some great lord or king, more than simply a servant of the Dark Master. He chuckled at the sight, his own private joke, drawing his hind legs underneath him.

He was surprised by the awe on her face, rather than the disgust or fear he expected. His eyebrows raised in surprise, then he continued on. Yes, they are, He smiled faintly, amused by the small white and black creature. Are you willing to take or no?