You’d think, being raised in the afterlife among dead things, she’d be morbid.
Salt isn’t, though, not really. She’s quick to laugh, and she has no idolizations of death (but then, she doesn’t see it as an endpoint, only a different realm, and she is already so comfortable being close to dead).
The words echo through the forest and cause her head to jerk upward, and she sees a mare, bay, looking at her curiously. She smiles, tentative, and only then notices another mare, this one darker, there but further back and quiet. She nods to both of them, heart speeding up – she doesn’t have much in the way of social graces – and fighting the urge to switch to her ghastlier form.
(There is just such comfort in intangibility.)

“Hello,” she says, “my name is Salt.”
She ponders Taria’s question. In truth, nothing compelled her here – she simply likes the forest, likes the interplay of shadows and sunlight.
(It was also the last place she saw her sister – but that is too much.)
“It’s peaceful,” she says, finally, “and it reminds me a little of home.”
There is a parallel in the tranquility, she supposes – though there were no trees in the afterlife. Not in the same way.
“And what about you? What brings you here?”