Blackfeather Woods Don't do that. Don't.

The boy was swimming with thoughts.
questions

like, for example, the whole dilemma of eating wolves. could one do such a thing? his mother bit and tore at many, though not once had he seen her eat a wolf like he saw her eat rabbit, or deer. it was with these thoughts and more that the boy came across a body. he was a wanderer, a silent thinker with no nt for social interaction, and he did not think anyone here as he gazed on the mangled body without much emotion other than curiosity. the body was dead. this he knew for it was still, and still things were dead. unless, of course, they were sleeping, or pretending to be dead. all very confusing,  he though in silence. but things that were alive woke up if you sat on them, most of the time, as he had discovered from past experience. thus, he cambered onto the corpse and sat on it's head, staring down at its face. it did not stir, and thus he knew it was dead. he lowered his muzzle and sniffed- it had an odor, too. dead-smell.

They had a habit of announcing their presence with the mangled corpses of their victims. The dark forest alone was enough to deter most wolves, but he figured that the practice was necessary to keep wolves out. The smell however, was not pleasant. As much love he had for killing, he despised the rancid smell of death. He never bothered himself with the bodies, simply the act of taking a live. Leave rotting things to Namira-worshippers he thought.

As he neared the smell of one corpse, his nose wrinkling with disdain as it grew stronger, he saw it. The boy, standing atop the head of the body. Miraak paused, drinking in the situation. What in Oblivion was this boy doing?

The approach of the other went unoticed, the boy in deep thought. but when his gaze fell on the other, his first thought was that his mother was coming to take him back to the den. now, or never. he dipped his head and fastened his jaws around the corpses face, biting down.

but his maw was filled with all flavours vile and rotted, for this was a corpse rather dead. he hissed in shock and outrage and fell off the body in his shock, spitting and gagging at the horrid taste. it seemed cannabalism was off the menu- this would be the last time he simply ate something laying around. least of all another wolf.

He watched quietly as the boy took a bite of the corpse. Like some old human tribes would do for their children and fire, he simply sat back and let the boy learn on his own. Cannibal or not, rotting corpses were never the best things to eat.

He walked forward then, nosing the boy off of the corpse. 'Tis not a good idea to eat the rotting, He said gently, wondering if the child was capable of some form of speech yet.

His eyes were ice on anger that the body had dared taste so bad, yet he did not speak even as the other was suddenly beside him and nudging him away from the corpse. he simply stared, rather annoyed, at the other, picking up on a newer word. rotted. the dead thing was rotted. 

perhaps...if he...but no. no more cannabalism for the boy, at least not for a while. he stilled as he stared at the other a moment longer, face falling into his ordinary,  bored expression, wondering if this male would speak again. his tongue flitted over his teeth, expression becoming disdainful as he caught the last scraps of disgusting flesh.

He didn't know how old the boy was, nor his parentage, but his silence was strange. Children never ceased making some kind of noise, whether they could make sense or not. This child simply stared, to which Miraak matched, silently for a moment before speaking. What is your name?

his eyes. they were a shade that he had not yet seen before, an indigo that ensnared his focus. he stilled, unnaturally, and perhaps the wonder that he did not display openly prompted him to answer the question with a single word. "Abraxas." low, and calm, with none of the regular excitment and lilting tone of a child. his gazedid not leave the other's optics until a moment longer, and still he gazed in silence, something tethering in place a moment longer before he would pad softly into the wood once again, but for now he simply stood, silent, still, staring, waiting for the other to interest him again as he had with his eyes of indigo.

He wondered, fleetingly, if the boy was posessed by a Daedric spirit. The level of stillness and virtual...nothingness the child expressed was unnatural and unnerving. It was all Miraak could do to stay and match the boy's gaze, unwavering. But he was still a child, wasn't he?

His name was Abraxas. He wasn't familiar with the language, nor the meaning. He simply nodded in affirmation. Miraak, He responded, wondering if the boy's expression would change... Have you tried eating the dead before? Or thought about it? Was it something his parents knew about, that was a problem?

Simply idle questions, and yet the boy graced the other with a reply instead of a silent departure, why, he did not know. 

"no"

not it entirely truthful, and yet there was no need to be. suddenly if the mind to find something more interesting to do without the prescence of trouble some adults, the boy blinked once before turning on his heel, departing into the wood with eerie calmness, heading straight to the shadows and disappearing easily into them.