Raven's Watch quoth the raven, nevermore

The ghastly visage of the stranger quirked into a fleeting echo of a smile before vanishing beneath inexpressive regard. Akantha met it in kind, her own inky lips tugging into a smile at the answer. Diaspora was not a word that tugged at memories buried beneath the years; either a new pack, or one so utterly insignificant to her during her reign in these lands that she hadn't thought it prudent to anchor it. Nevertheless, the information served a purpose--a trail to the conclusion Huntington arrived at. 

"Every woman has a home, although many forget where, and why," a single switch of an ear punctuated the cryptic remark while her hazel-green eyes hovered near the stranger's own will-o-wisp hues in a non-threatening display of curiosity. The eyes, as so often said, were windows to the soul. And Huntington's was as indistinct as a passing breeze. "Summer is nearly upon us. You may very likely find success alone until the chilly winds blow if none of these homes, as you say, suit your purposes." 

She licked her jowl and chuckled, "However, the coast is an ill-advised destination. History has shown it to be hotly contested, and I do not believe that has changed in the time I have been away."