Blackfeather Woods my legs refused to walk away

a soft falling of her eyelids; a muzzy smile. i loved cicero as much as i was able. i knew it then. i knew it now. what he did is cruel, but it shaped me. could she have been a vessel for mephala if she had not been first a cistern that sheogorath might mold upon a potter's wheel? her gaze was fond.
maegi, who had come back. maegi, who had remained dedicated to the wood. maegi, who had forged her own way, chosen her own god. i am loyal to blackfeather before i am loyal to its dark master or mistress. i believe it is what meldresi wanted. her words were perhaps nonsensical, but speech moved all the same through her. i think you will be the same.
thoughts butted sadly up against the wall posed by maegi's next inquiry; relmyna's countenance fell and she turned back to where the ravens had been. he did not return. i know he died beyond the wood.
she saw no reason to give maegi the details of cicero's death — unbeknownst to her, those would be snarled at a later time — only the knowledge that he had died. wherever the gods have led ramsay and euron, they are blessed. blackfeather calls in your blood, and i have faith they will return, as you did, relmyna added, turning back to the girl.