Blackfeather Woods i am—yet what I am none cares or knows;

Cicero was happy to see that Relmyna was fitting in well, that she was beginning to look outward more rather than following him around as though he were her saviour of some sort. He was not surprised to find her at the temple, for were she not by his side then she was often here. Cicero had grown to appreciate her presence in many ways. He had confided in her that Sheogorath was a beast and he did not know how to control it and had told her about his love for his brother Damien — although possibly the intent of his love may not have been clear enough from his words alone. To an uninformed onlooker his love for Damien might just be that of a brother to a brother, not a brother to a lover.

Light footfalls carried the patchwork wolf closer to the temple, ears perked forward to hear nothing; Relmyna was often as silent and stealthy as he. They were alike in some ways yet different in so many more, he thought as he looked at her and approached. Wordlessly Cicero watched the stone she had put on the altar and he sat down beside her, waiting; for her to be finished with prayers, for her to notice him, or perhaps until both conditions were met.