Sunset Valley creatures of a brief season

The male spoke in a voice that was thick with accent. The druid did not recognize where it hailed from, but she did not mind that he was from another terrain. All walks of life were welcome in her fold. After all, they all became the same spirits when they passed, so it mattered very little what their corporeal form had been. Seafret did think he was a fine specimen for being a canine trapped in the world of wild wolves and creatures of the wood. He was pleasant and kindly to her; the witch embraced his smile with one of her own, and her curled tail wavered lightly from side to side.
 
“You live here? How wonderful,” she remarked with a lilting laugh at the tail end of her voice. It was peculiar that a dog would find refuge in a pack of wolves, but she was not one to judge how others were to live their lives. “I am called Seafret. What is your name, good canine?” the sweet druid inquired to him with a cant of her skull and a beautiful smile that radiated on her features.