gray-mouser

Also, in the dismal Cold Waste, any man treasures illusions, though knowing them almost certainly to be such.

At that instant the hag's noisy breathing stopped and with it all other sound. Her eyes opened, showing only whites - milky ovals infinitely eerie in the dark root-tangle of her sharp features and stringy hair. The gray tip of her tongue traveled like a large maggot around her lips.