The Heartwood the comedy is that it's serious

Most of Lane's attention was still on her paw, but she threw a sideways glance at the wolf who seemingly appeared out of thin air. He looked like he belonged here: scarred and half-covered in soot, like everything else in this burnt forest. 

"Not really," Lane replied, voice a little strained. She normally would have enjoyed meeting a new wolf, but right now really wasn't a great time for her. She shuffled to face the man. 

Oh. He wasn't half-covered in soot, that was just... his fur. The marbling in his coat was fascinating, and Lane might have been able to appreciate it more if she didn't have a wooden shard stuck through her paw pad. She held her paw toward the man to show him.

"Stepped on a giant splinter," she said, although anyone who could see the wound would need no explanation. She hadn't pulled the wood piece out yet because she knew it would bleed, and she'd been hoping to find something she could use to staunch the flow.