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

The lilting accent of the shewolf is pretty, and she fantasizes for a moment about exploring whatever strange land the pretty woman is from. A flurry of sound from angered spirits makes her wince slightly, a subtle twitch of her lips. No, here is where they wanted her. Here, in this beautiful land. 
"Perhaps. But I don't know of anything, living or dead, that is truly evil. Misunderstood, yes. Angry, In pain, and misdirected. But never evil. Every evil action has a purpose." Her dark eyes search the shewolf, and she nods, as though agreeing with herself. 
"Life continues. You can slow it down, but it is inevitable. You will die, and so will I, and our flesh will feed the earth, and our prey will eat our flesh, and other wolves will eat the prey, and thus our flesh. That is the way of things." She sniffed softly at the sprout, breathing gently on it, before turning her attention to the shewolf. "Would you like to know your fortune?"