Ghost Lion Crag don't worry about him, he's getting fired in the morning.

she may as well have ben talking to a rock, or a sun-bleached log, but she was not detered. his answer was not exactly an agreement, but the alternative was to take it as a negative and simply leave him here to fade away into nothing. perhaps that was dramatic, but he lacked the spark of living things and it was all too easy to imagine him doing such. "alright," she offered, merely to fill the space, before closing the final distance between them and hoovering at his haunch. she found the most obvious wounds and decided to ignore those, instead carefully moving her muzzle over his spine until she found a raggedy mat and tugged carefully. his pelt was loose between her fur, ready to pull away if he decided to use his teeth instead of vague statements.