Creepy, weird post... It's a longish one, my apologies for the rambles. 
In the seconds that came before a reaction, Lucia’s mind raced. Thoughts of turning and fleeing came and went. Thoughts of going on the attack made her obsidian lips twitch. There was a definite bloodlust in the ebony wolf, for it had been a week since her last proper hunt. The female had scavenged her last few meals, even going as far as to make things out of berries and the occasional mushroom. Though the mushrooms had served well for her mental state, they did little for her hunger. The taste of blood was highly missed, but it would not happen today either. Lucia was in no mood to pick a fight, though it could not be helped if the world picked a fight with her.
Watching the almost familiar face turn to look at her, Lucia stood silently. She was statuesque, deathly quiet. All that could be heard was the nature around them. The river flowed, the trees whistled in the breeze, and the birds sang their happy songs. Lucia envied them, hated them even. Why could they all sing away happily? Why was their life any more perfect than hers… with their chirpy attitudes and their big round eyes sparkling in the sunlight…? She was as green as the summer grass. She was bitter.
Despite all her wild thoughts and wandering mind, Lucia still caught the words of the reflective female. It was strange how alike they appeared, both scarred on the face, and dark furred. Lucia had not met many with such similar appearance, perhaps this was even the first time. It amused her if anything, though very little did stir more than that in her emotions nowadays.
Sighing quietly, Lucia walked a few paces closer to the older woman. Gaze fixated, feet hit the ground in unison, the occasional crunch or snap of shrubbery and twigs breaking the air. When happy with her positioning, not too close nor too far, Lucia stood with an almost macabre look spread across her face. Perhaps it was the socialising, or the weather, or a hundred other things Lucia could pretend was wrong. The real reason, however, was not quite as environmental. It was mental. It was the thoughts that plagued her mind, like little mice running through a maze of corridors. Each room was dark, dusty, covered in cobwebs. Some doors bolted tightly shut, loud screams echoing behind them, some hanging off their hinges and creaking with any slight breeze, and some wide open, or even without a door. This was Lucia’s mind; this was where her thoughts roamed. This was the reason for that twisted expression, and the current thoughts that had possessed this ebony female’s warped little mind were quite unusual.
She could see herself in the woman before her. She could see similarities that could come with age. The scars seemed the most likely. But it was not just how they looked that played in her head. It was strange, poisonous thoughts; things she had only begun thinking since she lost her heart when she was abandoned. Her mind was not entirely her own. She could picture her tearing open the stranger’s chest, ripping out her heart, and doing the same to her own chest… switching them, changing their lives through blood and soul. It was like a mental imagery of how Lucia felt the world owed her, how she wanted to be someone else. She didn’t want to feel the pains in her chest anymore, the cancerous burden that were emotions. She wanted to be free of all that chaos, all that agony. So she daydreamed, imagined how she would change things, how she could get what she wanted. It never happened, and it never would. But she could pretend. And she would do just that.
“The day is disgusting,” the words rolled off her pinkish tongue with such venom that it seemed like acid would replace her saliva. “It’s bright and perky, and just…” She paused and made a sound which could only be described as disgust. Moving a slender arm from her side, Lucia pulled out a cigarette from the leather pouch attached to her belt. Lighting it, she inhaled the smoke deeply and thankfully. She loved her vices, they helped her survive. “Anyway,” she continued, smoke wafting from her nostrils like she was a demented bat out of hell, “Enough of all that, who are you? What are you doing here?”