Blackfeather Woods sleep is a welcome gadget in our headbondhood

He seeks @Taikon with a gift, a rabbit clutched between his jaws, shattered bones shifting between his teeth with each gentle sway of the corpse. Now that he's doing better, it only seems appropriate that he should try to provide for his packmates. He is the head of the Ivory, after all; leader of the protectors, guardian to the defenders of Blackfeather Woods. They are his responsibility now, as much as the Rose is theirs.
At least he looks the part this time, silver fur sleek and neatly groomed, head held high. The waver in his gait has faded, muscles rippling smoothly under his silken coat. He may not be able to change his size or his age, or the way the Daedra overwhelm him on occasion — the things that make him insecure — but he can make himself seem leaderly in other ways. At least, that's what he's going with, for the sake of his self-esteem and likely his sanity.