The Heartwood When Different, didn't seem so different.

Thoughts and prayers interrupted, by the sensation of a pair of eyes on her. She turned, empty black eyes staring, lips still moving seemingly of their own accord, pausing only long enough for her to speak, and wait for an answer. 
She moved forward, wet ash clinging to her pelt, streaks of charcoal smearing where she stepped over a thick fallen branch. It was almost as though she belongs here, a phantom conjured by the ashen forest, perhaps of a wolf who didn't make it out alive. 
The shewolf before her smells of the sea, and the eerie grin crosses her muzzle. Perhaps this one was one of her kind, and knew of her home beneath the Ravens. 
"I wonder what could have crossed the gods, that they would blight an entire forest, killing all within it." She asks lightly, her voice soft and silvery, adding more to her eerie aura.