Blackfeather Woods or half a page of scribbled lines

Ouch, she murmured, sympathy in her voice. That sucks. You'll get the dignity back--can't do anything about the tooth, though. Maegi jerked her chin toward the altar, half-losing her balance in the process. She waited for Flicker to draw up alongside her, then bent her head and picked up the squirrel, placing it more securely on the stone.

It's an offering to Peryite, my god, the girl explained, glancing over to the woman. God of pestilence and disease, remember? She wasn't sure if Flicker remembered her lesson. Maybe a refresher course was in order. Peryite is satisfied by things like this. So I've brought it here for Peryite to enjoy.

Māzigon, Peryite, māzigon, Maegi whispered reverently. That means, 'Come, Peryite, come.' It's in Daedric. My uncle Miraak taught me some, a long time ago, but he died and I stopped learning it. I don't know if others here know it. Maybe Relmyna. She began to repeat the phrase over and over, a murmured mantra, until the voices of the gods swelled up and over and threatened to consume her.

Maggots burst suddenly from the squirrel, ripping through a weak part of the skin, billowing out like pale clouds over the rock. Maegi smiled, a feverish look in her eyes. I think Peryite is satisfied, she remarked.