[Sabriel picked up the chopsticks. She knew how to use them correctly, but her movements while eating were slower and more cautious then they'd been when she was writing. Sabriel started with her rice, eyeing whatever was in the stew rather dubiously as she took another sip of tea.]

You could say it's a realm of spirits- I have to leave my body behind to enter it. Death is a river with a current and no banks, with black water that's colder than ice, and a fog so thick it's hard to see much.

Er, what is this? [With one chopstick, Sabriel pointed to the stew.]