Greatwater Lake Cause perfect didn't feel so perfect

A log gave way in the pulsing water, sucking the deer carcass down and Macaria nearly alongside it. With a leap, she landed, splay legged in the mud, her wound on her shoulder tearing open again. Unable to keep it dry it hasn't healed properly, the flesh greying and puckered. 
The shewolf introduces herself and declares she is, in fact, homeless. Interesting. "Lunaria. One of the three sisters. In my faith, Lunaria was the youngest sister, with fur of pure silver. She was the goddess of the moon, healing, music, and childbirth." 
She limps further up the embankment, laying down in the soggy grass. 
"I am Macaria, Goddess of Blessed Death, High Priestess of Daughters of the Raven. I am looking for shewolves with certain skills, and an interest in the arcane arts, and seeking a place of safety untouched by men. Would that interest you?"