Felltree Marsh i was in darkness

A light fog had settled over the Felltree Marsh but Ghost's analytic silver gaze told him that this Marsh had certainly seen better days. His eyes were cold and unfeeling as it slid over the fallen trees that cut shadows through the thin fog and spindly limbs floated in the mud and muck that made up the floor of the marsh. He waded through it, deigning to stay away from the deeper parts of the mud not truly wanting to become a victim of a devouring mud hole. He'd heard of them: like quicksand. It looked like regular mud but when one's weight was added to it you sunk and the more you struggled, the deeper it pulled you in and the quicker it brought you to your death though Ghost did not think suffocating by the earth was a quick death. No doubt it was torturous. No, that was to be avoided.

His paws sunk into the muck but put up little resistance when he rose each front paw and kept his pace steady until he reached solid ground. It was slick with variation of green mosses and littered with skeletal limbs and fallen trunks some of which were made hollow with rot. Admittedly, the marsh was not an ideal place for life to flourish besides birds: those that appeared to be weightless and could fly their way out of marsh. It was a desolate place and in some morbid way it was a perfect haunt for him. If he were a beast that put stock into symbolism he might have drawn the connection: both were vessels for death and destruction. However, Ghost did not believe in symbolism. Simply, it was a bleak place and it was his haunt for the moment.

There were packs directly to the south and east of the marsh which made him realize that he either had to head back west the way he'd came or venture north towards the rise. He did not particularly desire to retrace his steps thus he turned his attention to the territories of the north, idly wondering how much further north he'd go before he left the Wilds all together. It seemed counter productive, admittedly, though without a purpose the wraith gave the impression that he was aptly named: he was lost and simply, he wandered.

Ghost's freedom was nothing more than a illusion. The relief at finally ending The Officer's life had been swallowed by the realization that without commands to comply to he was ...a shell. Empty. He had no desires of his own, he had no dreams, no inkling of a future. He'd always lived in the moment, lived for the next mission. The next assassination. It was a suffocating realization, a terrible and frightful thing to realize. He had no identity beyond the one The Officer had so carefully and harshly forged. The little girl would live, she would be full of life and that had been worth the gruesome and bloody battle, Ghost realized, but in saving her he had destroyed his own life, his own purpose.

A heavy sigh left the wraith's lips moments before he gave his rich, mahogany brown coat a hearty shake, dispelling the moisture it'd taken from the watery mud. A flash of white caught his attention in the distance, drawing his predatory gaze. A crane, he realized from it's long legs and ivory plumage. It was a large bird and had settled a few feet from him. Slowly, Ghost crouched, watching it with baited breath. He was not sure if it was hunger that pushed him or simply the desire to have a purpose even one so small as taking the bird's life: his muscles pulled taunt, coiled, prepared to spring and after he determined that nothing was there to spook his unsuspecting prey off he lunged at it, jaws agap as he aimed for it's long and slender neck.

Tension at home kept her out.  It wasn't a purposeful campaign against Banner or anyone she was close to, but the dark brown female coulnd't stand the atmosphere.  Her stance on the matter hadn't changed - well, her stance was that she didn't have a stance.  Nor did she know the exact details of what had clearly been a physical altercation of some sort between the families of the Alpha females.  Stark didn't give anything away, though he'd divulge if she asked, and she'd been content to explore where she was still in sprinting distance of the Keep.

This bout of exploriation brought her to the Marsh just to the North.  From a distance the place didn't look like much.  Muddied pools took up a vast expanse of the landscape and were only interrupted by wiry tangles of tree branches and what looked like rotting, festering stumps.  It was no surprse to her that this place wasn't the most popular - who wanted to lounge about in the mud all day when other territories boasted beautiful coastlines and pure, crystalline rivers?  Even as her short legs guided her through the thick mud and cloudy waters, Banner knew this was where she needed to be.  For now.

She sighed.  The marsh wasn't any more enchanting up close.

Neither was she.

Her movement was halted when one rear paw sunk down deeper than she'd expected.  Banner scowled, and turned her head to glare furiously at her appendage as she worked to yank it free.  Her attitude changed just as suddenly.  She felt the agitation tingle on her skin, settling into the very roots of her fur.  This was a bad idea.  She should have gone back to that damned river where ravens watched overhead, their creepy little eyes keeping track of her every move.  Oh, how she'd love for one of those little bastards to swoop down and take a crack at her!  The chocolate female huffed even as she imaged ripping a disgusting crow in half, her mouth full of feathers and her anger rolling over her body.

But she stopped, blinked, and took a deep breath.  Okay.  Well, better not go down that road.  Deep breath in, slow, measured breath out.  Banner allowed herself one more blink before she looked ahead again.  She was about to move forward, anticipating the squelching noises her pawfalls would made in the mud, but was caught off guard by action in the distance.

Her brilliant green eyes widened while she watched a male crouch and then spring.  It was calculated motion, one that looked far more precise and practiced than most wolves had bothered to master.  He was aiming for a larger bird, one who had no doubt sought a quiet day here with its bretheren.  But, Banner thought as she watched the male with dark mahogany fur, the crane would likely spend its last moments wishing to be anywhere other than here.

The crane did not appear to know what had hit him at the moment of impact and Ghost did not allow it to suffer long. With violent shakes of his head and the tightening of his jaws upon the bird's delicate throat, crushing it, the crane was dead with a gasping squawk of protest before it's head and neck fell limp between Ghost's jaws. With that minuscule mission fulfilled there was no satisfaction to follow, simply an acknowledgment. He could hunt, he could keep himself alive of course. Yet, that knowledge did not precisely fill him with any sort of pride. Could being a lost phantom truly be considered alive? Unaware that the marsh was not as unoccupied as he'd first assumed he drug the crane to dry land, still unsure what he wanted to do with it. He had caught a fox a few hours previous and wasn't all that hungry.

It was then that he noticed her. She watched from afar and his muscles tensed with caution. He didn't like being watched, it made him uncomfortable and he wasn't honestly sure what to do with his discomfort. Silver gaze stared at her, cold and distant before his head lowered to look at his kill and then her. If she was hungry, or if she would take it for whatever purpose she wanted Ghost could not come to any conclusion why he shouldn't offer his kill. He wasn't going to eat it and as a vagabond he had no place to take it. Letting it here for some scavenger to find or to decay with the trunks and limbs that littered the muck covered marsh seemed wasteful.

He contemplated it for a few seconds longer, his docked tail giving a slight twitch, as if it had not been mutilated it would have swept thoughtfully across his haunches. He remembered what it was like to have a full tail and he remembered the agonizing pain he'd endured as The Officer mutilated it to the stub it was now. A shudder of remembrance slithered down his spine, unpleasant and lingering like metal in his mouth. Yet, as disgusting as it was Ghost missed him. Or rather, missed the purpose that he'd given him. “Are you hungry?” He asked her before his salmon pink tongue slid across his jowls to collect any stray blood that might have collected upon his lips and chin.

phone post

He took down his prey quickly and, she noted with appreciation, efficiently.  The bird had but a final breath to squawk out any surprise before the male snapped its neck and silence reigned supreme once more.  In the back of her mind, Banner knew she was staring like an idiot, but she couldn't help it.  At least she wasn't also gaping like a slack-jawed simpleton.  The dark male before her clearly had in spades what she painfully lacked - control.  Truth be told, she found herself envious, which was a tad ridiculous in context because she'd happen to catch a single moment of his life.  But, oh.. to be so self-aware. 

She drew in a sharp breath when he looked up at her with those cold, silver eyes.  Oh, hell.  Banner blinked owlishly at him before pinning her ears back against her skull. It was a reflex, really. Best to show she meant no harm right off the bat.  The short female watched as he looked to his kill and then back at her.  A panicked thought burst to the front of her kind: he didn't think she was here to steal it, did he?  Banner cleared her throat awkwardly as she noticed his thoughtful look, her geen eyes lingering a minute on his docked tail.  She didn't want any trouble.  Maybe it'd be best for everyone if she just sputtered an apology and ran back to the Keep..

But then he surprised her with a question. Hungry?  Her mouth opened and closed, a response dying on her lips.  The dark brown Marauder furrowed her brows and chanced a step closer.  "That's.. very generous of you," she murmured in her low voice, somehow managing to keep the tone even.  "Aren't you hungry?"  Her question was punctuated by a tilt of her head and another tentative step closer through the mud.

The distance between them did not allow for the Ghost to quite pick up on the large, owl like gaze the female was giving him but he saw the moment when her ears slicked back to lay against the curve of her skull. The seconds before he broke his silence — as unusual as it was for him to be the first to break the silence — were few but a twitch of his ear drew to attention the fact that she'd given a small clear of her throat. It wasn't until she moved closer at his question that Ghost noticed her eyes were green — the color enough for him to take note. It was unusual that he ever noticed minuscule details like that because in his life details were insignificant and didn't matter; and he never grew attached. Noting details was kind of like forming attachments. It allowed you to look too closely. Attachments were messy and depending on who (as The Officer was clear to beat into him often) could mess up an entire mission.

He looked away then, back to his kill only to peek back up at her, taking a step back from it when she spoke that it was generous of him. His tongue swept across his chops once more simply because he wasn't sure what to say in return. This wasn't a mission and he wasn't pretending. He wasn't deceiving. His social skills outside the lies that had became his scriptures had not, admittedly, been properly developed. His interactions had been mostly limited to The Officer growing up. It hadn't been until he'd been docked that he'd been sent out on missions on his own; and even then his interaction had been falsified. Lies recited over and over until he could recite them in his sleep. Always the same name, the same story, the same questions and the same answers to standard questions.

“No,” Ghost responded, taking a step back from the crane's corpse as she moved closer. A step back to mirror every step forward she took. He never allowed himself being so close to another until he was about to take their life. This was his own rule of thumb, perhaps a small and feeble attempt to have some control over himself. The Officer was still in control, still wielded Ghost like a weapon, holding onto his control over the prodigy. Even in his death. For a moment Ghost struggled, unsure of how odd it might sound to say that he had killed it just because. He understood that most wolves didn't just kill because. Typically, they killed to eat and not because they needed the release of having a purpose even if it'd only been for a tiny minute or handful of seconds.

“I have no pack to take it to, so if you are hungry, eat. And if you are not, take it back to your wolves, if you have any.” Generous wasn't really the word Ghost would have used for he wasn't so sure that was what it had been. More like: he'd had no real use for the crane's corpse and she just happened to be in the right place at the right time as he decided what to do with it.

His response in the negative gave her pause, as did his steps back.  Banner's tail lowered a bit - she was unsure.  The feeling washed over her like a splash of cold water, so unlike the warmth she felt when her anger took control.  It was confusing.  Generally in situations like this she took her social cues from those around her, but that didn't seem to be applicable here.  There was something about this male, something she recognized fleetingly in herself, but it was more subtle with him.  Ah.  It clicked for her then, the distance he kept between them.  That was something she'd practiced in the past, too, though with her it'd been more overt and awkward.  Clumsy, even.  He didn't have that problem.

His explanation made sense to her, though the Marauder knew it shouldn't.  Her mind was buzzing with questions she didn't dare voice.  Wolves didn't kill without purpose - it just wasn't their way.  But, she reasoned, with life finally recovering from the devistation of the famine, perhaps he was simply enjoying himself.  Stretching his hunting muscles?  Keeping spry?  Adding another species of bird to his kill list?  One of her ears flicked.  Why she was attempting such mental gymnastics to explain the situation was beyond her.  She didn't even know him.  He had no pack - he'd just admitted as much.  Her green eyes shifted down to the mud between her paws, noting with a barely-there grimace that this was no place for a pack, anyway.

"Well," she began, her voice quiet, ".. thank you."  Her eyes had moved back up to his face.  "They will appreciate it," she added, her tone warming up a few degrees.

She hesitatied again.  Then, suddenly, "I'm Banner."  Ah, another graceful introduction from a socially well-rounded individual.

He could not outright say that he cared either way whether her pack appreciated his donation or not — it was all circumstance as far as he was concerned. He supposed that if none would have been around he might have buried it somewhere in the contemplation that he might have returned for it but he doubted it. He doubted he would come to this marsh again without reason and the corpse of a crane was barely reason ...though it was a purpose. Living for those simple purposes: sleep to rest, eat to battle hunger, drink to stave off thirst. They were simple, the most basic of basic but they were all purposes. They took him back to the root of all, to the very basic and primal core of existence. Routine motions to keep his life going but going where he didn't know. Anything beyond just surviving was an unknown abyss and if he spent too long trying to puzzle it out (though he had no idea how to go about deciphering it) he would likely go mad. Desires...dreams he had nothing for himself, no aspirations. Not except survival but that was simply life wanting to live.

A sage nod was given because it felt like the right thing to do though he wasn't sure. He wasn't trained to speak freely, to toss out the cue cards and improvise. So his eyes rose to her once more, cold silver gaze sweeping over her casually. He drew his tongue against his chops again, his ears slicking back to his skull, his docked tail giving a slow sweep (so to speak). She gave her name and for a moment Ghost simply stared at her, blinking slowly as he processed it. Banner. It was easy enough for the Ghost to remember though he was not so sure that being able to recall it at a later date would be necessary or not.

He did not usually take note of names beyond his targets but he let his gaze sweep over her once more, brows furrowed ever so slightly in intrigue as he tucked it away. Just in case. “Ghost.” The wraith spoke his “name” simply. It was not the name he had been called before The Officer but it was the only name The Officer had addressed him as and it became the wraith's only way of identifying himself outside of the false name; but this wasn't a mission and the false name had no play here.

Her brows drew together when he regarded her with a cold gaze.  If if were anyone else, Banner would have thought his mannerims gave him away as nervous - licking his chops, slicked back ears, staring - but this male didn't have that air about him.  It was as though he carried on with what he was supposed to do, what was expected from any average wolf in his situation.  Practiced, even?  Ah, but he could just be that calm and collected. 

Ghost was his name.  Her lips drew back in a soft smile.  Names weren't her forte.  Faces, other other hand, she tended not to forget.  But a name like Ghost?  That was different.  Wovles around here seemed to call themselves all manner of things.  Her own name wasn't one in the traditional sense, but it was what she was given.  She'd never known otherwise.  Banner looked down again and suddenly felt confined by the mud sucking her paws under.  With a quiet sigh, she reached her right front paw up to a conventiently placed felled tree.  She tested it first by applying pressure - yes, this would do.  The trunk wasn't too rotted out yet and looked just wide enough to support her weight.  One shrug later and she hopped up, even managing to stick a graceful landing on all fours!  What a day.

The Marauder carefully placed one muddied paw in front of the other and moved forward again, following the ever-narrowing path of the toppled tree.  She stopped after a few feet and looked from the crane to Ghost, her expression softening a bit when she remembered that he didn't appreciate her closeness.  Her head dropped, ears pinning back against her skull in a non-verbal apology.  She'd forgotten herself for a minute there.  "Do.. do you live here?" she asked quietly, realizing after she voiced her question that he likely wasn't going to answer.  He didn't even want to be near her!  Her dark chocolate features fell into a frown.

Banner's soft smile inspired Ghost to regard her with a child-like curiosity. His brows furrowed trying to place why she was possibly smiling but the mahogany beast could not come up with any conclusions. It had been some time since he'd seen another smile, at least a smile that was not malicious. He watched her approach with the same wariness of a wounded animal with equal parts caution and curiosity. He'd given her the crane, of course, and he knew that was what drew her nearer to him, as she balanced elegantly upon a fallen log and made her way nearer. Instinctively, he took another small step back. It wasn't fear that guided him — he did not fear her, nor even truly death. Had he ever feared anything but The Officer? He didn't remember.

His actions to move back were for his safety and her own. The only wolf he'd gotten close to outside of missions was The Officer. He did not know what to expect of himself if he allowed it. Ghost couldn't promise that he wouldn't attack simply because he didn't know any other way to handle strangers. Missions were different. The Officer had been specific in training Ghost to attack his target and only those that got in his way. Despite the steps back he'd taken as she drew nearer to the kill it was not distance adequate enough. They stood apart but they were closer than they'd been previous and it caused a tension in his shoulders.

Ghost recognized her non-verbal apology and struggled for a moment, swallowing thickly, his own ears perking forth and then slowly slicking back to rest at half mast atop the curve of his skull. She asked a question and then looked … almost sad about it as she frowned. This perplexed Ghost, greatly. Mahogany brown brows furrowed once more and his lips parted and then closed for a moment, his silver gaze settling on the nearest puddle of muck nearby before he looked back to her. “No,” He replied simply but honestly.

She watched with cautious eyes as he seemed to struggle before responding to her question.  The simple movements of his ears and eyes on would likely not have phased Banner on another wolf, but they were pronounced with him.  What were generally regarded as nervous gestures looked entirely foriegn on the tall male.  Carefully she bent at the elbows to lower her body - it was only about an inch or so, but she wanted desperately to convey that she didn't mean to harm him.  Not physically, as that prospect was pratically laughable coming from the smaller female.  But.. emotionally?  Mentally, maybe?  Or was she just making sure that she didn't harm herself?  Whatever form it took, she didn't want to be seen as a threat.

It was then she noticed the scars on his shoulder.  Oh, they looked angry and, if she didn't know any better, deceptively deliberate.  Banner's eyes lingered on him for a few seconds too long before she realized she'd been staring.  Again.  What was it about this Ghost that made her so interested?  He was so unlike the other wolves she'd come to know here, which comforted her.  The lady Marauder was also unlike the others.. she kept to herself with a few special exceptions.  Stark, her intrepid brother, knew the ins and outs of her personality and never held anything against her.  In her experience, others weren't so forgiving.

She looked back up to his face, hoping like hell she didn't offend him all her child-like gawking.  Shame flooded her, causing her face to flush below her thick, dark fur.  Banner knew what it was like to be on the other end of a stare.  She cleared her throat again.  "Good," she stated quietly, her voice oddly thick.  This marsh was no place for a wolf to live.  Especially if he were alone.  "Pack?" she asked, averting her gaze to the rough bark between her paws.

She kept herself low, physically putting off that she wasn't a threat. Though there was some part of Ghost that appreciated it he also consequently found it very bizarre. Wrong, perhaps. The Officer had never been submissive — no that role was Ghost's own. The only wolves that Ghost recall ever showing his submission had been the ones begging for mercy. Yet, it'd never been Ghost's mercy that needed. He held no vendetta against the wolves he'd killed, did not care for them either way. He was a tool, but Ghost had came to learn quickly that The Officer had no mercy. He did not know the meaning of the word and it was only a subject that the Ghost had to broach once before he knew to never do it again. Ghost blinked his silver gaze at her slowly.

She was staring at him, he realized. The scars that marred his shoulders: his kill count. It was missing one, admittedly, but he could not add it until he had help. The Officer had always marked him, cutting deeper than necessary, not bothering to give Ghost anything to numb the pain before or afterword. The Officer knew medicines but had never deigned to share or explain why he consumed them. The Officer had mornings when he would walk with a limp, take something from his little stash he carried with him and by mid afternoon he would be walking fine, barking at Ghost not to stare. Ghost considered that he'd been arthritic and settled on that likely conclusion though he'd never dared to ask. The Officer kept a strict “don't talk unless you're spoken to” policy. His brow furrowed slightly and he offered, “The scars are my kill count.” He wasn't sure why he was telling her, especially since he wasn't sure that it wouldn't scare her off.

She responded with a thick Good to his answer regarding to if he chose this marsh as his home or not. He could not imagine anything but cranes, and maybe frogs would enjoy calling this sticky place home. Banner was an interesting creature, but Ghost could not place where this foreign fascination stemmed from. She asked, then about a pack, her gaze averting from him, he watched. “No.”

"The scars are my kill count."

Banner's eyes instantly met his again.  Kill count..?  Aware enough of her body language in this moment, she was very careful not to have a strong reaction of any kind.  Well, except for a small, thoughtful frown.  He'd been so matter-of-fact in his statement.  Not sorrowful or boasting - just bland.  She wondered how it was possible for a wolf to react this way to killing.  His previous distant behavior suggested that he hadn't interacted with others much.  And now this?  She swallowed, hoping the sound wasn't actually as gratingly loud as the echoes in her head.

She didn't have long to think on his admission before he answered her question.  No pack.  The short Marauder nodded, the only response she could think of at the moment.  Now that she was closer to him, Banner noticed his tail.  It was.. docked.  Her bright green eyes betrayed her as they widened again.  It wasn't often that she saw a wolf without a tail - what kind of accident had caused this?  Her own tail twitched, her thick fur rustling softly with the movement.  Oh, she couldn't imagine life without her tail.  How awful that he didn't have one!  Realizing that she was staring again, she looked back to his silver eyes.

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly, not bothering to clairfy if she was apologizing for staring at him (again) or if she were apologizing for whatever incident caused him to lose his tail.  Or that he didn't have a pack.  She managed a barely-noticeable cringe.  Banner had so many things to apologize for.

His admission had earned him another meeting of their gazes her's a green — that would he had been a more poetic being he might have compared to the green of the aurora borealis (but alas he was not a poetic creature) — and his silver, as cold as the metal the color was borrowed from. Ghost wasn't ashamed of it but he couldn't claim to be be particularly proud of his kills either. They had not been his vendettas and thus little reason for him to find to boast. He'd done what The Officer had asked of him, he'd done what he'd been trained and conditioned for. Nothing more and nothing less. Ghost saw her gaze then travel to his docked tail but he offered not explanation for it. He tended to feel adversity to sharing it for the story tended to give him flashbacks and he didn't particularly feel like explaining that either.

She was a strange creature, this Banner, Ghost considered as he studied her, something between scrutiny and fascination in his expression. He could not conclude why she was apologizing to him. The only time anyone had ever said those words had been during that period of begging for mercy right before he killed them or fought them to the death. Some had not been so ready to accept their death but had fallen by his teeth all the same; but he'd never heard the words uttered with a sincerity that he'd heard many times in his own voice when he'd had to speak those words to The Officer. It had gotten rarer the older Ghost had gotten, knowing what The Officer had expected. Banner, however, had done nothing wrong, hadn't upset him or offended him in any manner. “Why?” Ghost inquired with a raise of his brow.

He regarded her curiously and, perhaps for the first time in her life, Banner didn't fret under his gaze.  In fact, her legs straightened and she returned to her full height, which was still slight in comparison to his.  Her ears remained pinned back in deference to the more powerful male.  Ghost wasn't being acively dominant or threatening, but she felt the instinctual need to display some kind of docile gesture.

Her own dark brows furrowed as she took a moment to think.  "I'm not sure," she answered honestly, her low voice clear.  There were so many reasons for her to feel sorry, the most obvious in her mind that she'd been starting like a moron at the large mahogany male.  But she didn't feel sorry for him.  No, she felt some kind of strange camaraderie with him.  Keeping his distance as he did.. it was all so familiar to her.  Uncertainty flickered in her bright green eyes - she hoped he wouldn't question her further because she didn't have any answers.  Ghost wasn't exactly the wordy type, anyway.  Their entire conversation had been short, succinct sentences punctuated with one word replies and the show of body language.  It wasn't that she minded this - not at all! - but she'd grown accustomed to wolves who enjoyed being wordy.  Some of them really loved the sound of their own voice.

But not Ghost.

She smiled at him, the curve of her lips soft against her chocolate fur.  He was good company, she decided, though she had only a few minutes of interaction to come to this conclusion.

Her response left Ghost with more questions then it did answers. I'm not sure, well, that wasn't much of an answer. Perhaps she was avoiding the truth, perhaps she just didn't want to tell him why she pitied him. Regardless, Ghost had not been trained to question. That was not his role. His role was to carry out the commands of The Officer — always performed without question, without a shadow of doubt. Here and now, Ghost projected that reality onto Banner: he took her response without doubt and did not give voice to the questions he'd considered. He had no need for curiosity, he reminded himself. He'd forgotten the sound of The Officer's voice over the months that Ghost had been wandering, haunting, but the forceful reminders in the bleak echo of the voice he could no longer remember was enough to remind Ghost of his place in the world. Lost. Low.

The furrow of his brow had smoothed out when he noticed that she offered him a soft tug of her lips upwards. A smile without cruelty, a smile that did not promise of the pain that was going to come. It was just a simple gesture and yet Ghost struggled what to do with it. Return it, perhaps, but he couldn't fathom the last time he'd smiled. Or if he'd ever smiled. Surely he had, once, in a lifetime that The Officer had erased, but that was a bygone era and Ghost was who and what he was. He felt the pressing need that he should say something, that he should break the silence, to reach out to her verbally but he didn't know how when he wasn't reciting practiced lines.

His silver gaze lowered to the crane, then to the muck between them and then to his paws — the fur spiked from the muck and water before — upon his dry patch of marshland — he reclined back upon his haunches, his gaze flickering back to her where it rested with inquisitive silence.

It occured to Banner then that perhaps she was thrusting a lost part of her own consciousness onto Ghost.  His self-control, the steady way he handled himself - it was all achingly foreign to her.  How often had she longed to reign in her own emotions during a seething rage?  How many times had she begged into the lonely night, her breathing ragged and body weak, for her mind to mend itself just enough to stop her wheeling emotions?  She drew in a harsh breath, her gaze falling from the male as he sat back and waited.  Waited for what?  She didn't know where to go from here.  Conversation hadn't ever been her.. thing.  But it wasn't his, either.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes still downcast, before focusing on the crane again.  Well, if nothing else, she'd better figure out a way to get this back.  Ghost had offered it, after all, and it'd be a shame to waste resources like that.  "Ah.." she began, her tongue struggling to form words as her brain raced to formulate conherent thoughts.

"Can you..?" Banner faltered again, lifting her green eyes up to Ghost and then briskly looking down at the crane.  Sure, it'd be a shame to waste the feathered resource by leaving it here, but it also seemed a shame to drag it through the mud.  She would have been worried about an undignified death, but such things didn't ever cross her mind.  It was the feathers that concerned her more.  The short female hopped down from her perch, cringing again as her paws were sucked asunder by the marsh's brownish muck.

She drew nearer, singularly focused on the crane.  The thought that Ghost would retreat again had crossed her mind, but his reaction couldn't be helped.  As far as plans went, she didn't have one.  And Banner wasn't sure how to ask him for assistance getting the winged creature back to the Keep.  He woudn't be able to follow her all the way - Marauder's Keep had their rules of engagement with outsiders, aftter all - but maybe carrying it to the edge of the marsh?  She nosed the crane's white and gray feathers almost lovingly.  Feathers were something she adored, strangely enough.

Her eyes rolled up to meet his, the whites in stark contrast to her green irises.  This vantage point left her feeling a little ridiculous because the Marauder knew she was now giving him the wide-eyed gaze of a puppy.  ".. help?" she asked, her low voice sounding much smaller than usual.

Silence was quick to fill the void of their very small conversation — if it could even be considered such a thing — but this was where Ghost drew comfort: in the words left unspoken. Silence didn't bother him. It had, at first, but gradually as The Officer's training ensued it had become a sweet respite from The Officer's cruel remarks and insistent barks. If there was a solace to be found in quiet Ghost found it and habitually he cherished it. She appeared to struggle forming words, or, Ghost considered, perhaps she was not sure how she wished to ask him (or maybe if she even wanted to) as she began to ask her question and then drifted off looking between him and the crane. Ghost was patient, because he understood the struggle, and if he didn't understand then he could at least sympathize by drawing similarities to himself. Cold, silver gaze watched as she hopped from her perch and drew closer to him. Yet, unlike before Ghost did not retreat. There was ample distance between himself and the crane that he felt comfortable with her approach.

He watched her interaction with the corpse with a continued inquisitiveness at how she appeared to have nosed it's feathers with a bizarre gentleness. Perhaps she liked feathers, Ghost considered. She looked up at him in a way that briefly disarmed the wraith, finishing her question in a small tone. He blinked down at her once, twice and then a third time. No one had ever asked him for help before. It had either been expected of him, demanded of him or all together they simply avoided asking him for it. It wasn't a command but strangely enough, he felt inclined to aid her though he could not place why. Perhaps there didn't need to be a why. Perhaps all there needed to be was the inclination and that he would do it — simple.

“Yes,” Ghost responded in agreement. He trusted that she would show him the way to her home, or perhaps some place he could carry the crane to where it would not be covered in muck by the time she got it back. Of his own accord, he moved nearer to the crane, eliminating the distance he'd put between them with each step she'd taken towards him and the corpse. He was closer than he'd allowed himself to physically be to another since his dance of death with The Officer. The thought disturbed him and so he did not linger upon it long, instead Ghost lowered his head and deigned to grasp the fowl in his strong jaws and lift it, ready to take it where she led him.

It wasn't the same as The Officer: but it was a purpose and he couldn't help but feel a small release of relief at having something to do that went beyond the primal instincts of keeping himself alive.

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.  Her dark brown tail wagged but twice in response to his answer in the affirmative.  Banner, though not usually one to rely on others, was now grateful to this male for two reasons: one, because he'd offered the crane to her, and two, because he'd now further assist her by carrying it back to the Keep.  She really hadn't wanted to drag all those gorgeous feathers through the muck of the marsh, though she did acknowledge in the back of her mind that it was a childish notion.  She hadn't indulged in such thoughts for a long time.  Back during those days on her own, caring about something so trivial was a worthless flight of fancy.

Acclimating to pack life had slowly begun to change her.  All for the better, she'd hoped.

Her verbal thanks died on her lips when he drew closer.  Banner had a short list of wolves she allowed in her personal space these days.  They were mostly Stark, Stark, Captain, and Stark.  Did she mention Stark?  Right.  She paused, swallowed, lifted her head and backed up a step.  Her bright green eyes watched as he reached down to grasp the crane.  The thought struck her just then that Ghost must have felt something similar when she'd moved closer to him earlier.  It clicked - she understood.

Banner cleared her throat.  "Thank you" she said, the words sounding almost strangled to her own ears.  She turned back toward the Keep and woofed quietly - it seemed like a safer option than speaking the words "this way" or "follow me".  Eyeing the line of willow trees in the distance, the short female started off through the marsh, careful to set her paws down on what she'd hoped were more solid bits of land instead of goopy mud.

She expressed her gratitude as to which the wraith chose no verbal response to but gave a small, affirmative nod of his head to acknowledge it. Admittedly, her words had came out sounding a bit strange, and Ghost was perceptive enough to pick up on this but he did not take it to insult nor contemplate it further. It was what it was. His interpretation on anything aside from dominance and aggression had been dulled under The Officer and those were the two things he understood the very best. Everything else was subjective and met with little more than a furrowed brow, muted curiosity or a sage nod. Her soft woof initiated their journey and Ghost fell naturally to the rear of their two person train. He hovered close, instinctively, cold silver gaze sweeping the desolate marshland for any signs of danger as they proceeded through it's murky depths. Banner was not The Officer but while in his companionship, for however brief or long it was fated to be, she was under his protection. He kept his gait even, long strides hindered so that he did not out stride her, but he found himself moving to flank her left side.

There were no immediate signs of any threats but that did not mean that the Ghost wasn't vigilant. It occurred to him as they moved to inquire how far her home was from these marshlands but he had missed his window, and doubted it would be appreciated if he attempted to speak around the crane corpse he carried for her. Besides, he told him, it didn't much matter how far her home was. He had agreed to carry the crane for her as far as she wanted him to and Ghost saw his missions through.

They hadn't been terribly far from Marauder's Keep to begin with and Banner noted upon seeing more willow trees in the distance that this was likely to be a quick trip.  Of all their surroundings, the marsh was probably the pack's weakest spot, though at least with the majority of the trees downed it was easy to see larger threats coming.  It wasn't like any pack would choose this run-down territory to call home.  Still, she also kept a keen eye on their surroundings.  The short female wasn't as invested in this task though because she'd grown accustomed to feeling safe in the pack environment.

Ghost moved up to her left side and she looked to him, her green eyes at first attempting to meet his gaze.  But when she saw he was busy scanning the landscape, she smiled and looked forward again.  His focus still amazed her.  She imagined that his mind was organized and he found it simple to compartmentalize - focus on one task, complete, and then on to the next.  This was just wild speculation on her part, of course, but Banner imagined that this was what she'd have to do in her own mind.  Maybe that would come.. some day.

The pair continued on in silence and she didn't find it uncomfortable at all.  Strangely it was familiar and nice.  Forced conversation was awkward for everyone involved, anyway.  Some time had passed before she started to slow down.  Banner looked over at Ghost and offered him another soft woof to indicate that they were approaching her home.  The willow trees began just outside the borders, a stray one here and there, and grew thicker farther in.  But she wouldn't bring him in that far.  The other Marauders would likely voice their disapproval and she didn't want to deal with it.

She led them to the base of a particularly large willow tree, parting the weeping branches with her nose and stopping in front of the trunk.  "You can place it here," she offered quietly.

Ghost did not make to fill the comfortable silence between them with idle small talk (something he admittedly wasn't very good at), though wouldn't have even if he wasn't carrying the corpse of the crane through the muck of the marsh for her. There were no signs of any that would intercept them, no immediate scents of danger. It was not enough to encourage the assassin to relax — that was something that he rarely did — but he was satisfied that the coast was clear enough. It was probably a good thing, them being in the marsh, if only because it did not give the impression that it was frequented with too much travel. Wading through the muck was effort and posed dangers of it's own on top of it. Banner gave him a soft woof to announce that they were approaching her home, though when her steps began to slow so, too, did Ghost's. He could smell the pack's borders clearly now, even over the scent of the poignant marshland.

Banner had led him to a weeping willow, nosing apart the willow's long vines, sending a ripple through the barrier of green the trees created, directing him as to where he could set the crane's corpse down at. He moved closer before he gently placed the fowl before her, licked his jowls once and took a few steps back. For a moment he struggled once more, trying to shift through his knowledge to determine how the parting was meant to go. “I can stay here, see that you make it into your borders if you'd like.” Ghost offered after a moment of consideration. She was close to her home, and he did not sense any immediate danger. Granted, a smart beast would wait until he left her alone before attacking but she was so close to the confines of her pack that Ghost doubted such a thing would happen. He trusted that her pack would look out for her, but he would linger until she brought the crane into her borders if she wished him to. The option was her's.

His offer struck her in a way she wasn't expecting.  She felt.. touched?  Grateful, of course, that Ghost would offer to look after her until she was safely in the arms of her packmates, but it was something more than that.  Another soft smile spread across her chocolate maw, this one a little brighter than the others.  Banner wasn't sure how to respond at first.  Her brain was slow to come up with a suitable response, so she looked down at the crane he'd placed before her and considered her words carefully.  "I'd like that," she said, though internally she wasn't entirely happy with the word choice.  It seemed too.. feminine?  Docile?  Ah, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

The short Marauder looked up to Ghost, her eyes searching for his in a way that seemed oddly natural for her now.  She felt comfortable around him - there was no pretense, no pressure to be the well-rounded, sociable wolf she wasn't.  There was strength in quiet companionship, an "I don't know you very well but I feel at ease around you" sort of camaraderie that she wouldn't soon forget.  "Again, thank you," she began, nodding her head politely to the dark male.  "If.. if you ever need anything, come find me."  Her words were sincere, though delivered with a trademark awkwardness that she'd likely never lose.

With that, Banner reached down and grasped the dead crane in her maw.  She chanced one last look up at Ghost before continuing on deeper into the willow trees.  Banner wasn't worried about anything or anyone catching her off guard so close to Marauder's Keep, but she felt a special comfort knowing that Ghost had her back.

When Banner gave her response — that she would like it if he stayed and ensured that she made it safely into her pack's territory — the wraith gave a brusque nod. Her eyes met his, and mercurial gaze held her's. It was a bizarre thing Ghost took a few moments to consider: meeting another's eyes. It was not something the assassin made a habit of doing — if because The Officer would have (and had) banged him up pretty good for it. Yet, this eye contact was not a challenge. She made an interesting offer, that if he needed anything he could find her — perhaps a way of expressing her gratitude beyond the given 'thank you's'. In silence, Ghost watched her gather up the crane and head into her pack's territory. His muzzle lifted slightly when she glimpsed back over her shoulder at him before she disappeared. Once he'd ensured that she was within the confines of her home safely the Ghost turned and headed deeper into the marsh where the pair had emerged from minutes earlier having no reason to linger and not wanting to be met with the aggression of Banner's pack.