Sea Lion Shores different didn't feel so different

The elder shewolf insisted she didn't need much food, and Macaria dipped her head into the fatty flesh as the shewolf introduced herself. 
Wraen, she declares her name to be, and Macaria smiles, tearing out a loop of offal and setting it aside. Although there were no ravens on this beach, other seabirds were gathering at the smell of blood. A pair of gulls got into a noisy argument over the flesh, and Macaria turned to the Shewolf. 
"I am Macaria, Goddess of Blessed Death. You don't happen to be in a pack, do you?"