Hushed Willows i won't let you fall tonight

While Banner found it to be cold, this was nothing short of a kindness in Ghost's world. The assassin had made many enemies and all for grudges that were not his own. Having a pack forget about him, forego him as if he hadn't existed at all brought to him something akin to relief. The mission — whatever it had been — might have failed but the fault was not the Ghost's own. Without Phiipa there hadn't been enough to keep him to the Creek and no feeling of obligation to pursue it further, thus he felt no guilt in cutting whatever feeble ties had been made. “For once I think being forgotten about is a mercy,” And it was a bonus just as much as it was world rocking to know that The Officer was not waiting with punishment to dole out for complete and utter failure. Perhaps The Officer had only kept him not out of loyalty but because he needed him. The elder did not have Ghost's youth. Phiipa had not needed Ghost the same way that Ghost had needed her, nor how he had needed The Officer and vice versa.

“Yes,” Ghost reiterated in a quiet murmur of agreement when Banner growled out by the lack of loyalty in some. Her offer surprised him and for a moment his jaws parted and closed, his brow furrowing as he contemplated it. His mercurial gaze rose from his paws to her face, identifying that her voice had taken a much softer tone than one she'd used when speaking of the betrayal of loyalty moments before. There was a soft catch in his throat as he studied her, taking time with his response, because he wanted to be mistrustful, to not be fooled a second time by a pretty face, and yet he did not want to pin the misdeeds of the golden demon thought angel upon Banner. That wasn't fair.

“Your pack won't mind, will they?” Because while Ghost's interactions with packs might have been limited and filled with much acting he understood that they were territorial and when provoked, hostile towards wolves that were not their own. He took a small step towards her, mercurial gaze scanning the willows that stood like sentinels at her back for any sign of hostile Marauder's, and when none made an appearance he took another, more assured step towards her. “Thank you,” Ghost spoke, for the first time that he could recall actually meaning the words. For a moment he was going to elaborate before he bit lightly upon his tongue, figuring it best to allow her to accept his gratitude for whatever she wished to.

“Did you save any of the crane's feathers?” The assassin asked her as he continued to slowly close the distance between them, partially out of his curiosity and partially because this reminded him of their first meeting; and he'd remembered how she'd nosed them: with an adoration, as if they were a prize to be treasured to her.