Greatwater Lake where there is neither sense of life or joys,

the dybbuk drew away, and moved some steps aside — relmyna observed him with some faint neutrality trailing at the edges of her gaze. by all rights, she should bear nothing but hatred for him, and yet she did not. the lines of him were strong, his limbs hale; only the stench of wickedness that clung to the man's withers brought her pause, so heavily had it become ensconced as a living thing beneath his dark fur.
relmyna had considered that the fiend too might wear the title of sire to the brood she carried; she followed the line of his muzzle as he lifted it and considered what sort of father he might be. but there rose in her breast a warning — she must disallow herself such horrid and fanciful notions, born from the expanse of loneliness that had expanded in her chest these past weeks. 
hunger stirred — relmyna was annoyed to find that the hunger never abated — and she rose unsteadily, lapping at the snow to quell her thirst before scenting the air herself.