Wapun Meadow Rising high to touch the sky

He did not understand her apology, but acknowledged it with a short incline of his head. In his opinion, one couldn't be sorry for their inability to understand, which mostly other factors dictated anyway. His humor had been derived of an attempt overcome his torturous childhood by laughing at pain and misfortune; he couldn't expect hers to be the same.

He shrugged slightly when she offered her wishes for the meadow to remain unclaimed. He couldn't imagine Swiftcurrent migrating or allowing another pack to settle so near, but he considered that anything could happen, given enough time. Haunter had no real opinion on the matter one way or another, as long as he wasn't bothered. Yellow eyes blinked slowly when she asked him about his personal knowledge of herbs—which was a flat zero if things like this were measured in numbers.

"None, I'm afraid," he answered, looking back to her in a way that didn't dictate he was at all upset over his own lack of knowledge. "I've always been more a wolf who walks the path of death, rather than of healing. Grass and weeds and flowers don't interest me much." Did she expect more of the one-earred wraith? Maybe he should've known something given his age, but if Haunter had ever been taught anything about any medicinal herbs, he hadn't retained it.