Blackfeather Woods stale incense

He was made aware of a young boy in their midst, half dead, starving, who would be groomed to serve the Brotherhood. Whether or not he would join their number would be up for debate, but for now he was in their care. Miraak would make sure that the boy would not forget that.

He visited the child as soon as he had time, finding him curled in the roots of one of the dark trees that made Blackfeather Woods so distinct. The older male strode over curiously, his tongue clicking with disdain as he looked the boy over and finding small, wriggling things in his fur. Ants, most like. Miraak grasped the child's neck, pulling him away. He was barely a skeleton, hence why it was so easy for even an old man like Miraak to pull him.