Blackfeather Woods oathkeeper

There was a haunting stoicism about the boy as he answered, one of which Sheogorath could not yet determine whether it was driven by an intelligent introvert or simply a dumb brute. Perhaps the truth was somewhere in the middle, but there was simply something about the boy that exuded a creepiness he was not sure he could match. He wondered if others felt the same.

Nothing. Sheogorath rolled his narrow shoulders in a shrug as he answered in turn, "Not much. Herb caches I may have left behind. Fresh ones are not in very high stock at the moment." It being winter, and all. He hoped he'd be able to find one of Cicero's left-over caches, but it was not a matter of life and death if he would not find it today.