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

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.