Blackfeather Woods winter is coming

That such recklessness was allowed to flourish in an assassins' guild disgusted him. It was true that he was merely a boy, but shouldn't he be taught patience above all else? He blamed it on his mother, reminding himself that Potema's litter would not be coddled for so long. They would learn how to fight properly as soon as possible, and they would learn to do it cooly, without emotion, cold like the winter they would be born into.

He watched as the boy disappeared under a snow drift, waiting for his head to burst out. His molten gaze did little to frighten him, only annoy him further. Think before you act, He admonished, watching as the boy leapt forward towards his paw. Miraak's paw hit the ground instead, removing the boy's target, and he moved to the side, furthering himself from the torrent of rage. Think of what will effectively destroy my ability to fight back rather than hitting everything. The shade lunged, hoping to catch the boy by the scruff this time. He left himself open on many sides, giving the child ample opportunity to strike back; if only he looked for them.