Stone Circle countdown to doomsday

The question had an obvious answer but she still waited until the girl responded, listening for the subtle clues that inflection and word choice would bestow upon her; the way which the gray-cast woman spoke indicated that this was indeed a pack, and a popular one at that. Perhaps those stones drew people from many paths. Phyllis kept that thin smile as she listened, and when queried by the younger wolf she was slow to start her reply but decidedly verbose at the same time:

Oh, dearie me. I do not mean to impose myself upon you or your family, darling, but I could use some help, yes. You see — I am a widow. My husband, bless his soul, has already moved on to the next life. I have been on my own for months now and, with our children grown and dispersed, well, I am alone. I do not have long to live — you can see that, I'm sure. I am old, but... But I do not want to move on yet. I do not want to be forgotten. Some of what she said was the truth; Phyllis had husbands in the past, and even children, but the loss of them from her life would not have affected her so deeply. Still, she played her part. A grieving widow, a weak-bodied elder nearing the end of her days. Tugging on heart strings and hoping it would be enough to thwart the stranger's good sense. Maybe Phyllis would survive the winter after all.

I do not mean to be so morbid, sweet girl, but I was hoping - if you could show kindness, and let me linger until my end. This place is beautiful and I would be most grateful if I could stay here, at least long enough to get through the winter - if I even have that long, oh, Phyllis sighs softly as her voice peters away; she knows she is not a boon to these people, not at her age, but maybe this girl could be  manipulated. The poor old thing looks absolutely heart-broken at the thought of becoming a popsicle (or, that's what she's going for anyways).