Felltree Marsh i was in darkness

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.