Blackfeather Woods and late in a star's life -- it begins to explode

He had grown accustom to happening upon random new scents in the territory. In his short life there had been a number of them. Only this one was not entirely unfamiliar. The boy snuffled about the tracks in the snow, making faces as he tried to place where he had encountered this scent before. He knew he knew it. He also knew he was prone to lapses in memory and momentarily flattened his ears in renewed frustration at the fact. Determined to put a face to the scent he loped along, ever ghost-like even when not intentionally sneaking and trying to make ground.

Soon enough he spotted a dark wolf and paused his steps. Recollection came like a jolt. That rotted skull! That thing that this wolf did to that rotted skull! His heart thudded in his chest and peered into the shadows at his sides and beyond the swarthy figure. Was that white female with him too? (Why was she always around when dead heads were involved)? She was nowhere to be seen (probably because this time there were no dead heads), but Euron narrowed his eyes suspiciously anyway. Much about that day, the act and the feelings it stirred in his guts, still confused him.

Euron was emboldened being in his own territory. He marched forward, eyes glimmering with a question that he did not hesitate to speak when he drew near.

"What were you doing?"