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

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?