Blackfeather Woods Sing to the Moon

He idly wondered if the boy had always been like this — grumpy and tired that was. It was a funny image, a small potato shaped Damien, curled defiantly by his mother. He allowed himself to smile at the thought briefly, but there were more pressing matters at hand. It seems a new pack is forming in the north, or at least trying to; in a grove near a marsh,

Miraak frowned at that; not even a mark for assassin? Damien looked ashamed at the information. Not many Dark Siblings here, are there? He had already figured that, but this settled it for him. It was a disappointing thought, but they did not seem to be getting many jobs in the first place. Close to none, actually. That brings up another thing: my reinstatement into the Brotherhood.