Dead
The deer was dead but Duror did not rise triumphant: he crouched beside it, on his knees, as if he was mourning over it.
Supplication
His arms were loose and dangled in macabre gestures of supplication.
Pray
She could not pray but she could weep: and as she wept, pity and purified joy and hope welled up in her heart.
Rotting
It was as if the rotting tree itself had moved.
Murder
He was in the mood for murder, rape or suicide.
Shattered
Duror, with his face shattered and bloody, lay dead.