Blackfeather Woods i'm looking for a saw to cut these chains in half and all i want is

She comes bearing fresh herbs for her sister's grave, but it seems that this is not the same woods she departed before. The scents along the border are now stale, the ever-present sentry ostensibly gone. What has happened here to make them all flee?

With cautious but determined steps, Megara travels deeper into the forest, looking for any signs of a memorial. She has come all this way; she will not turn back because the door lays ajar. If Meldresi was as important to this forest as indicated, surely her grave will be easy to find? Place the herbs, say a prayer, go home.

But instead of coming across Meldresi, she comes across her miniature instead.

Well, not miniature. This girl is near-grown, a far cry from the pup she once was—but has a long way yet to develop, too. In contrast to Megara's old age, she is a veritable infant. She sets down the plants and gives a soft chuff to the girl, gnawing on the bone. The rogue stares at her in some wonder, taking in the dark pelt, the indigo eyes.

Hello, dear, she murmurs, her voice like silk but coarser. Mephala be with you. Megara wonders if she has been taught the ways of the daedra. She fervently hopes the girl has.