Ravensblood Forest Yer family tree is a wreath

For someone born 'n raised in Dreadmurk (for all that she knew anyhow), the world outside was too vast and empty for the likes of her. What had possessed the madam to go gallivanting outside of civilization? The chance at something new and different was a lure, surely, but the bravery of the drink was what urged her to take the initial plunge. Now — seven hells, Farren was not only sober but she was lost.
Bless yer heart, but brains weren’t in yer ration this week. She bemoaned herself and her circumstances, drawn in to a stumbling wander along the beachfront until the earth tilted her path up towards a ridge, and then in to the safety of tall trees. It was darker here and that helped her red-rimmed eyes; however, the wench stood out regardless with her pale coat and too-tall stature.
Oi, ‘ello? Any soul what ain’t a ghost hauntin’ this place, then?