Bearclaw Valley and he sings to me real low

a quick, almost imperceptabl smirk crossed treason's features -- followed by what could be called the shortest blip of a laugh in existence. thorn was under the impression such a break in her stoic demeanor was a rare treat -- it certainly did not linger across her darkened helm.

he took the rest of her news in stride, happy at the least there were no further disturbances to report. he supposed he ought to tell stigmata all of this post haste and not dally -- the longer he kept out, the more likely the facts would get muddled. he had not always had the strongest recall.

dusting his fur with a quiet shake, thorn dipped his muzzle. "well... this was informative. treason, thank you." he briefly sought to hold her gaze -- just to communicate his genuinity -- and then he would make his leave.