Blackfeather Woods Sandy Claws, huh? Ooo! I'm really scared!

@Wildfire

Uncle Cicero — Sheogorath — had brought back a treat.

His mother had told him and his siblings about Wolfskull Cave, how it had often been used as a prison, holding those captive whomever the Brotherhood lured into their web. But as long as he could remember, the den had been empty. There were old blood stains and bones, with the stench of excrement and fear lingering heavily inside. He had passed the place time and time again, marveling at the shape of the Cave every time, but never truly entering. But now that the scent was live, breathing and quivering in fear, he was intrigued by whomever had been trapped there. 

In the quiet of night, he pulled himself out of the tangle of his mother's den and approached the wolf-shaped cave. Ganon stalked, keeping his movements as quiet as possible as he neared, wanting to spook the foreign wolf hulking in their den. When he was standing outside, he waited, his breath caught in his throat, then he spoke. Hello? Hello hello! He called into the den, then waited, ears straining for some other sound than the reverberations of his voice and the drone of nighttime.

Something had gone very wrong. Wildfire knew that much, though it was too difficult to parse out details beyond that. Her whole body hurt and she could hardly think straight, much less figure out what was happening to her. She was suspended in this dazed state, dimly aware on some instinctual level that she was in horrible danger but unable to do anything at all about it.

There were other characters in this nightmare, though she could hardly focus on her surroundings, much less the faces that came and went. Two were more familiar than the rest, though Wildfire still didn't know who they were or what they wanted from her. She couldn't even rightly say if they were her best friends or worst enemies. Were they helping her during this torment? Or were they perpetuating it?

There was nothing for it. Soon, a strange face materialized, copper fur back-lit so that the wolf appeared to be on fire. Wildfire squinted against the constant aching in her head, large ears slipping backward slightly when a youthful male voice called into the dark chamber where she was being kept.

"Hell..." she seemed to echo him, struggling to sit up. She managed, though she slumped against one wall crusted in some black substance that peeled and flaked beneath the press of her shoulder. "Hell... help."

With his head cocked, he waited for a response. At first he got nothing but echoes, the drips of water, the soft breeze from the air inside the cave. He waited, but being a young boy he raised his voice once more. You're not dead, are you? It would be a shame to have you die so early... He nearly spoke over her voice, which rang out after his voice trailed off. Oh! He was genuinely startled for a moment. Hello there, His quarry guaranteed in the cave, he began slinking in, bearing no mind the bones and blood and filth he stepped in on his way towards the pathetic little creature.

"Help," Wildfire moaned, "me... please..." Her chestnut eyes peered upward beseechingly, drinking in the stranger's reddish fur, not unlike her own. There was an openness and curiosity about his expression, though a decided lack of concern. Although it was difficult for her to piece together any coherent thoughts, the ailing she-wolf felt a chill sweep over her at that, sensing something as amiss with him as this situation in its entirety.

She begs, her voice disoriented and hoarse. It is the first time that he had heard someone in such pain, and he merely smirks at it. He snorts with amusement, striding forward. He kicks a bone aside, watching it clatter and bring up dust. Why should I? He yawns, stretching his body. What do you have to offer me?

Now his demeanor went from eerily neutral to openly delighting in her predicament. Wildfire's insides clenched with dismay and fear as she struggled to maintain some semblance of focus. For a moment, she simply stared at the red wolf, watching his lips move as he taunted her.

She had nothing to offer, of course, and was in no shape to negotiate with a sociopath. She remained silent, save for a low, distressed moan.

She retreated into silence in answer. He did not stop his slow approach, watching her feeble tremblings. He paused for a moment, considering her. He had no urge to physically harm her; she had been hurt enough it seemed. Instead, he asked questions. Who are you anyway? His voice took on a lighter tone then, in stark contrast to the harsh mocking tone his voice had took before. You can at least tell me that, right? He knew it was jarring; he wanted to throw her off anyway, to keep her guessing on how he'd react. It was an interesting kind of psychological torture that he had wanted to try.

When he came closer, Wildfire continued staring at him, almost uncomprehendingly, saying nothing even when his tone softened. Some buried instinct told her to refrain from offering up too much information until she could properly assess her situation. And that was going to prove difficult due to her condition.

"Where—where am I?" she asked. "Why...?" she added, a question she would repeat several more times in the coming days.

She doesn't answer his own question. His face wants to contort into annoyance, and he wanted to snap at her, but he knew that he had to comply if he wanted his own questions to be answered. This is Wolfskull Cave, He does not reveal the actual name of the Woods. He figures that someone wants to keep secrets from her, but whether his home's name is one of those secrets he doesn't know. He doesn't know a lot it seems. And my uncle brought you here; why I do not know, He shrugs. Uncle Cicero did his own thing. It was interesting to have a plaything like her here, but he doesn't really see why. They have no true enemies anymore, or marks. Perhaps he was just bored.

The name meant nothing to her, though Wildfire tried to repeat it in her head, memorize it to consider later, when the inner fog cleared. In any case, these answers did not really explain what she was doing here. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was about to say something else.

But she didn't. Instead, the she-wolf began to blubber and wail. Nothing made sense. She was scared out of her wits and her mind didn't seem to be in proper working order. Everything hurt and she felt as if she might vomit. Instead, she curled up in a ball and sobbed, utterly inconsolable and unresponsive.

I think this'll be my last post, if you'd like to conclude? :)

Sure thing!

Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask another question, she breaks. He was unsure how to react to the mad blubbering and cries. It was startling, but at the same time invigorating. He had not done most of the work personally, but just the thought that he was the one responsible for finally breaking her...well... He smirked. He stayed there, watching her writhe with mental and physical agony until it subsided. He left her there to deteriorate further in the darkness of Wolfskull Cave, alone.