Blackfeather Woods and when at last the work is done

Pale, dark marking, lots of scars— Oh, that sounds like Mou, Maegi said, a little dismissively. If it had been after she had left without word, little wonder he was out of his mind, looking for her. The thought gave her a pang, but she pushed it aside, at least for now. No use dwelling on something that was in the past and had been apologized for.

So you feel a pull here? she asked, ears canting forward curiously. Why? What in particular brought you back?

She wondered whether Tundra heard the voices of the daedra, or whether they called to her, too. It would be extraordinary and Maegi would be happy to help walk her down the path of her religion. That said, perhaps the woman just liked the scenery. Which seemed awfully hard to believe, but hey—everyone had their tastes, right?