Ghost Lion Crag The blood is the life... and it shall be mine.

Between the Crag and the Mountain that hid the lake, there was entrance into the rest of Teekon Wilds. Miraak, finally crossing from one side of the Hinterlands to the other, leaned against a spruce — lonely in the crag's lower regions — sighing.

He was finally realizing how old he was getting. He was far from being infirm and elderly, but far from sprinting for miles on end with hardly a care in the world. His muzzle had grayed prematurely, giving him the added appearance of age. Most women (and some men) liked it — "silver fox" they called him — but now his body was catching up to his vistage.

The shade huffed, curling his feet underneath his weight. He wasn't done just yet. The assassin's spirit was still in him, and would remain until his death. He would prefer to die in battle than of a disease, or in his sleep, but Mephala would decide for him. For now, he rested, wondering where his sister was and how she was doing. He hoped she was well.

The crag felt haunted. No, not haunted (and this she spoke aloud to herself) but faded, like life had once thought to cling here but changed its mind. There were the signs of it everywhere. With a wolf's keen senses Starbuck noticed small prey skittering between the rocks, but save for their scratching and the wind there was silence. She had entered from the north, drawn by a place that was not full of magic but notably devoid of it.

The ragged spruces were bent and contorted, and Starbuck imagined that they were tortured and unsatisfied souls given shape. This sent a shiver crawling up her back, and she doubled her step as she walked past them until-

she gasped, feeling the sudden flow of magic, and was drawn to one of the spruces. Carefully, carefully, Starbuck picked her way among the sharp ridges and fallen rocks of the crag. So focused was she that she failed to notice the resting wolf nearby as she sprung up, teeth latching around a branch that looked inclined to break off. She wanted it, for it was a beacon in a dead zone. She would take it home, if only she could get it to snap off. But her weight was too little, and the branch did not break and she did not let go. So she dangled for a moment, thrashed a bit to see if that would convince it, and then dropped back to the ground, disappointed.

He stood perfectly skill, a time worn habit and skill of his, his indigo eyes half lidden as he watched the small woman come into his view. She was tiny, coyote-like in form and fur. Was she coywolf? He had met many before, perhaps he even had some of his own.

Miraak did little as she jumped forward to snatch a branch from a tree, instead observing her with interest. What was she doing? Was she a herbalist of some sorts? He couldn't delve into this woman's mind, but he settled on reading her expression instead.

When she missed, he thought it appropriate to reveal his presence. The shade lifted his head, but not his body, peering at her quizzically. Do you require assistance?

A voice, sudden in the silence, startled her. Starbuck backpeddaled, the action similar to a shying horse. She had thought the voice was that of the tree (for trees had voices, she now knew) protesting her attempted thievery. It was only when she searched her surroundings that she found the voice's true owner. He was a shadow of a male, fur deep and dark as the night, interrupted only by the distinguished graying of his muzzle. An older gentleman, but still handsome. 

In truth she had already marked the branch as a lost cause, but this wolf was larger than she and might have better luck. Require it? No, she said. Though I would appreciate it. Starbuck was convinced that if she could only get the branch off of the tree she could carry it home and... do something with it. It felt important to her, important and filled with magic.

She was startled at first, a normal reaction to his "sudden" presence. He chuckled softly, raising himself to his feet, ignoring the creak in his bones as he loped over to the tree she was trying to pry a branch from. He nosed one branch, looking down at the coywolf. This is the one, correct? Miraak reared up slightly on his hind legs, broke off the branch she asked for and handed it over to the smaller wolf. She was looking for a particular branch, for what reason he could not fathom. He suspected it was something of a magical nature; his sister and other magically-inclined wolves of his birth sect were always picking up random objects, claiming they were pulsating with magic. He could never sense it, but he trusted their choices.

The gentleman (or so he seemed) rose with no apparent difficulty and approached. Now closer, she could see that his eyes were so dark and so rich a blue that they seemed almost purple. Similarly, she could see the distrubtion of each silver hair upon his muzzle. He gestured to the branch in question and Starbuck nodded. Yes! The very one, she confirmed. Then she watched as he did what she could not. He rose upon his hind legs and deftly snapped the branch from the tree. Once he had placed it at her feet she sniffed at it, then beamed at him. Thank you! It was kind of you to help me. Perhaps I can help you in return? I have grown to know the lay of the land quite well, I think. Are you lost? It only seemed right to offer some help in return before she returned to Donnelaith with her spoils in hand jaw.

Her sudden willingness to assist him surprised the shade, but it was not unwarranted. He had assisted her in, her mind at least, something important. It was all she could do to return the favor. I am not lost in the normal sense... He began, I am looking for my elder sister, though I do not know her exact whereabouts, Again he lapsed into that familiar dialouge, asking anyone for information on his sister. So far he found none, but he pressed on nonetheless. Her name is Meldresi Melonii,

Even if he had not helped her, she would have offered her aid, so long as he seemed to need it. Which, it seemed, he did! He was not lost in the truest sense of the word. No, he was not lost at all! It was his sister he sought, a woman whose name was utterly unfamiliar. I do not know of whom you speak, she said. But that does not mean I can't help you!

Starbuck glanced around, searching for something with which she could do a reading for him. Finally she realized that she had a perfect source of magic right in front of her! She stretched up, placing her paws on the tree and reaching for thin, small branches. From the tree she plucked five, each of varying shape and needle coverage. These she placed before him. I will help you find your sister with these. Take them and cast them upon the rocks, if you will.

He was disappointed to hear that she had no knowledge of his sister, but she offered to help regardless. He watched quietly as the girl reached for more branches, this time without his assistance. The man was no skeptic when it came to magic — He had seen its potency many a time — but the source of her magic was a mystery. Was she an Aedric worshipper, or one of the Daedra? Or was she granted powers from another source entirely? He made no comment, simply taking the branches as she instructed, walking to the stones and casting them there, waiting for her verdict.

Starbuck watched keenly as the sticks clattered upon the stone. For a long time she sat in silence, listening as the wind whispered to her and the edges of the twigs blurred until the space between them was just as stark as the twigs themselves. In these spaces and in the orientation of the sticks she saw the shapes of the future. A star, she saw, and water falling to water and to the soft loam of freshly dug earth. These images resolved themselves into feelings, not what she felt but what he would. Have hope, she said finally. You will find your sister, and... a word stuck in her mouth, for she was unsure how it applied, but knew it to be true. You will find renewal. Starbuck smiled up at him, for surely this was good news.

He watched, but he knew he could not see the same thing as the seer. He was patient, letting her absorb the information the gods gave her, whatever god or Prince she worshipped.

She turned and beamed to him, telling him that he would eventually find his sister, and renewal. A slight smile crosses his face and he nods appreciately. Thank you,

The man remained silent and respectful through her deliberation, for which Starbuck was grateful. Never one for anger or harsh words, the few times Starbuck snapped at others was for breaking her concentration. He seemed to be pleased by her news. The pleasure was mine, she said. My only regret is that I could not have given you a direction to go in. So I can only advise you to follow your heart, for the heart is wiser than most believe. She cast a glance around, then back at him. If you wish to continue your search now, I would not mind. I would hate to keep you here chatting if you were unwilling.

I am sure that I can find my way, though your prophecy has renewed my efforts, While he would not admit it, he did have a few moments of lost hope. The land here was foreign, hostile, and close to winter. He was too old to wander and explore like he had a few years ago. But this was a different purpose, a different cause. It was not only a job, but a duty to find his sister. And he would; the small seer told him so. He smiled at her and nodded. I shall go back to my path, and you to yours. I thank you, my dear, With that, he moved along, leaving the little seer to continue on her own thread, briefly rejuvenated by her words.

Starbuck beamed to hear that she had done some good in heartening him. His journey was both pure and true, and she wished that he found joy at the end of it. Your sister is a lucky woman to have a brother who loves her so, said she. I wish you well in your journey, now go forth! Go forth with the knowledge that your path will end in joy. And with that he was gone, and she as well. She took up her branch and began to trot home, feeling glad that the wind had led her to another in need of help.