Blackfeather Woods the story of a ship

His brother was Dark Master. Blackfeather was volatile, shifting. unsteady, and a deep rift split the pack. Eventually, it would all come to a head, and the storm would break, and the woods would likely fall, and some would likely die. It would do him well to be prepared, and choose the winning side. For what sense was loyalty when it got you killed? 

The call distracted him, and he shifted toward the sound, the note of which was distinctly female. The Reaper set quickly onto the trail, moving silently towards the call with the intent to maim whatever might be on the end of the trail, for rarely did one who called here actually have the fortitude to join them. His approach was fluid and menacing, scenting as he neared the scent of Miraak, and that of stranger. 

Abraxas stole near, until the woman came into sight and he abruptly stopped. He shifted to blend more deeply into the shadows, no longer did the thought of tearing into the stranger cross his mind. For she was beautiful, an idea that the boy had never stopped to consider. Beautiful was alien. The desire to not kill or maim stemming from so odd a barrier was alien. he was still, watching the woman, and wondering at the odd observation that had come to him for the first time in his short life. tthings, it seemed, could be beautiful.