Blackfeather Woods Not Going To Write You A Love Song

It worried her when Ohen called, distress in his tone, and it worried her more when the scent of her son intermingled with blood nearby the border. She was a Dark Sister through and through, but she was a mother as well. She wanted her children to become the next generation of Dark Brotherhood assassins, spies, and priests, but she did not want them to die young, or to be riddled with scars and wounds before they were a year old.

But it was a hope in vain. Her son was laying on the ground - he was unconscious, not dead, thank Sithis - blood glistening on his chest. Nearby him lay a dog, dead. Starving dogs seemed to love coming into Blackfeather Woods, and her inhabitants loved killing them. Her eyes looked to Ohen questioningly, then she walked closer to her son, licking at his chest wounds. "Tell me what happened."