The Heartwood primadonna girl

he seemingly appears from the scorched earth itself, a ghost or vision to suit her mood, and though she does not start exactly she does dance back a step, fur fluffed. the strange boy's question registers and the coy girl relaxes with a short huff, flicking an ear back as she contemplates. it is a fair question! "oh," she hums, voice melodic, "'cause i match," and obviously she does not mean her appearance, still burning bright against the ash grey floor. 

her naked expression changes, intrigue overtaking sorrow but leaving the edges vulnerable. "an' so do you," witchbaby comments, tasting the darkness in the odd child's aura, the uncanny brightness of his gaze: younger than she but already so grown (though was that not the way of these wolf-boys, so indelicately large and brutish?). for a wild moment she thinks of asking about kinkajuú, but then thinks better of it and offers a crooked smile instead, pointed nose dipping. "ain't every day you see this sorta destruction- beautiful, right?"