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

for a spell of time the wraith quit the pale evoker's company, having caught wind of quail that stirred in the shadowed bosk. last he looked upon relymna her form was hunched towards the ground and she crunched snow between her slim jaws.

he returned some time later and tracked her pawprints, the fruits of his effort clutched in his jaws. a quail, bloodied and disheveled of feather -- he presented it silently to the brooding mother, nudging its limp form along the ground before he once more turned and left, this time without returning.