Witch's Marsh with a mind so dark and skin so white

When she was closer she could make out some curious curled bits to the ends of the stranger's fur, which was intriguing, and seemed to suit the petite figure. Ibis kept to a safe distance, and noticed that the other wolf appeared to be doing the same - cautious, but not afraid. Then they were speaking and the voice reminded her so strongly of Lily that she nearly gasped, feeling her heart fluttering in her chest; yes, she was nodding, it was nice to see a friendly face -- oh, but not the right face. Never again that face.

There aren't many people roaming the valley these days. Most are aligned with a pack. With the state of things, I think I envy them a bit. Ibis shares with a small, strained giggle. Her smile appears thin and tired more than gleeful. But yes, it is nice. Where do you come from? Somewhere healthier probably; you're visiting at a bad time, what with the quakes and the fleeing of prey.

Oh, but this was no time to let her worries overwhelm her! And this was no way to make a new friend, going on and on about the hardship of life on one's own. Ibis tries to think on the bright side as she adds, I'm Ibis. I live here in the marsh.