Blackfeather Woods Never fails, baby

He's at the border sniffing feel free to be mad at him

 


The lack of blood and gore and organic rot in the air as he approached his birthplace concerned him. There were no carcasses strewing the borders, not splashes of blood, not even the smallest chip of bone was seen. It was worrisome. Of course, to a sane man this was the norm, but his family – both here and beyond Teekon Wilds’ borders – were decidedly not normal. Blood and bones were their bread and butter.


Despite the trademark declaration of their presence, Ganon could smell two, no, three, faintly familiar scents on the border. Four? Siblings, he could smell. He had only seen the three disfigured children when they were young, still awash with puppy scent, but the base, the core of their identity had still been there. He could recognize that familiarity at the border. But there were a few others that he vaguely remembered from before he had left. They were not of Blackfeather Woods.However it was the distinct lack of scents that concerned him. There was no Miraak, no Cicero, no Potema, no Damien. No Vaati. No one he had known as the core of his natal pack was here anymore, as if they had never been here, or as if they had never existed. All that was left was the young ones, those at the fringes of their pack at the time he had last been a member. So much might have happened. The tension that had grown in his chest returned a thousand-fold. His body shook reflexively.


He tipped back his head and called his intent: I am Ganondorf Melonii. I want to see my family.