Jemiah reached down, picking a snail up by it's shell as it slid through the mud and shoving it into the small silk bag that was tied around her hip. Much like her body, the bag tried to float towards the surface of Brightwater Lake. She anchored herself by hanging onto the weeds growing at the bottom of the shallow body of water. She had moved to collect the snails by grasping at different weeds and pulling herself across the ground. Were she on the surface, it would look much like she was walking on her hands. "That's the last of them." She thought to herself. One of the chefs in the Undercity was paying for the snails, apparently they were an ingredient in a meal the Orcish guards considered to be more palatable than 'a diet of mushrooms and old corpses', as the chef had phrased it.Twisting herself awkwardly, Jemiah moved her weed-clenching hands behind her and brought both her legs down, so they stuck out straight in front of her rather than floating over her head. The remains of the tattered dress she wore billowed out in front of her, swaying gently in the water. She looked up and saw the cloud dulled sunbeams of Tirisfall Glades fruitlessly trying to pierce though the lake water. She tried to exhale, missing the sight of dozens of small bubbles rushing out from her mouth to greet the air outside of the water. Nothing happened. She didn't breathe anymore, which is why she was able to spend the afternoon underwater gathering snails.
