Blackfeather Woods garden on bones

In his patrolling, the dark-haired child had come across a fallen crow. At first, Atshen had hesitated in his approach to the creature as he believed that it would fly away as he approached. But, upon the Silencer's watch, Atshen realized that the bird was unable to fly. It hopped about the sunlight-dappled ground, fluttering its wings-- yet, it never took off. Instead, Atshen could see that there was something wrong with it's left wing. Awkwardly, the bird held it at half-mast, as if it were testing the waters with its wingspan. 

Soon enough, Atshen stalked forward. Noticing the wolf's approach the crow hopped helplessly, hoping to escape despite its obvious handicap. Soon enough, after picking up his pace, Atshen was upon it and forced it to the ground with a shrill cry. This sound caused something to stir within, something that drove the child's next actions completely. 

The bird flailed under Atshen's weight, attempting to escape. Atshen, on the other hand, would not let this happen. Instead, he applied more pressure onto the creature and sought its good wing with his fangs. Grabbing on, Atshen tugged, easily pulling the bird's limb out of its socket. It gave a mighty cry at this, and Atshen pulled back and smiled with the wing still in his mouth, relishing the pain that the other felt. 

Though this satisfaction he felt consumed him, he knew that this feeling was nothing in comparison to the feeling of taking another wolf's life. But, for now, while he had nobody kill, torturing this bird would allow him to get a moderate fix of adrenaline.

It was enough to be frightened of Nemesis' wrath, but the malice of her children was another realm entirely. She had never had cause do be fearful of other children before, especially now when she was much older. And yet the Apaata-Convel children frightened her to no end. The woman was on edge whenever they were around, especially when they were near her children.

Any excursion away from them, however brief, made her anxious. She did not want to seem obvious in her fear of assassination, but she made sure her children were protected by their uncles or great-uncle before she ever left her den. Such protection was not always the best for her children's minds; she did not want them to be spoiled or relaxed.

She decided to make this run to the cache quick, excavating a scrawny pheasant for her before hurrying back. Only she paused in her tracks when she heard the pitiful caws. In the clearing was the eldest and strongest of Nemesis' children hunched over a wounded crow, one of its wings in his mouth. Atshen, She ventures tentatively, knowing how more likely he was to harming her children than the others.

He was all too wrapped up in ripping apart the crow to notice the woman's approach. Instead, it was only as she spoke that the boy turned from the living creature and towards Potema with shining eyes. It took him a moment to realize just who was talking and when he did, the child bowed slowly to drop the wing next to the flailing creature. 

"Potema," he replied evenly as he lifted his head. It was as he spoke that his claws dug into the bird blow him and it cried in turn. Glancing briefly from the pearl-haired wolf to the suffering creature, Atshen smirked in his satisfaction. When his gaze did return to the Conjurer there was a look of expectantly, as if he were pressing on just why she was disturbing his kill.

She looks towards the broken bird, squinting at its harsh cry. Her heart panged with emotion and sympathy; the crows and ravens were their allies. They helped during hunts and provided watchful eyes over their land. She remembers how, as a girl, she travelled with them after the flood. They had been her only friends back then.

Did you find it injured, She asks cautiously, Or did you hurt it yourself?

With his claws still deep into the bird, he replied. "It was crippled," and at this, digging in deeper, he smirked. "I'm helping it." How Potema would take his sentiments were still up in the air, but the satisfaction he was getting from this torturing was all too apparent. He knew that the crow did not have much longer and he intended fill as much suffering in it's pitifu existence as he possibly could.

She is still unnerved by his intentions.
Helping, he had said. The woman knew it was more than just helping it. She knew what the young man was doing, planning on doing, to the injured bird. She sucked her teeth as she watched it flail underneath him. Had this been any other animal I might have ignored this, She begins, unwilling to move the younger but stronger wolf off of his prize. The crows and ravens are sacred to us, just as spiders are. The forest was named after them, and they are Nocturnal's, the Daedric Prince of Night, creatures, She murmurs, wondering how he would react to such information, if he even cared.

Though his expression did not shift in turn of Potema's explanation, his voice certainly did. "I understand," he offered, his voice darker. Turning from the pale-haired woman, he focused his attention on the bird and smiled grimly. Then, unexpectedly, he thrust his muzzle forward to grab the creature's throat. With a small snap of its neck, Atshen ended it's life quickly. Blood squirted into the child's mouth, and he relished the sensation. 

Raising his muzzle slowly, Atshen eventually brought his eyes back to Potema, and he smiled. "See? I helped." 

Atshen right now: [img]https://i.makeagif.com/media/12-05-2015/ulUvyB.gif[/img

Her sermon is ignored, Potema bracing herself for what would happen next the moment she heard Atshen's voice. The young man turns to the bird and quickly tears into its throat. Potema flinces, but remains steadfast as she stares at Atshen's face once more. She stares for a few moments, before speaking. If you are cursed, remember it was your doing, and not mine, She warns ominiously before finally turning away, ridding herself of the shame.

Pretty much!

Though Potema's warning set an ominous tone, the two-toned child disregarded it quickly. He was painfully oblivious to the fact that he was not immortal and misfortune could truly strike in his life. Thus far, his life had been on of victories-- all of which had built the boy's ego to incredible heights. 

He watched on steadily as the woman made her exit from the scene, standing tall as her form vanished into the gloom of the forest. When she was out of sight, the Silencer turned towards the crow, picked it up, and left the scene with intentions of consuming it as his next meal.