There was a reason that she stayed in the caves.

She wasn't cowering from the constant pain, nor running from the truth of her predicament. She wasn't hiding from her scars, or the one that had given some of them to her. No, she had grown fond of the darkness, of the familiar way the damp air stroked her remaining fur and soothed the burning of her naked skin. She had also lain in the darkness and wondered where else light can shine as brightly, where else the warmth of a flame is as welcome. Not an answer came to her that could rival the cave she now called home. It was a close-walled structure, separate from the honeycomb of caverns that littered the surrounding earth, an island in a sea of insanity. Sheer stone walls rose skywards, there entirety broken only by a narrow ledge that jutted out from the cave mouth – a perfect vantage point for a patient watcher. At the rear of the cave was a glassy pool of liquid water, cold as ice and just as refreshing, that had gathered from the constant dripping of water through a natural skylight.

Fiam has built a nest beside the pool, although it was mostly barren as she lorded over her palace from on high, enjoying the cool touch of the stone against her wounds. The pain had begun to fade slightly as they healed, but even this relief was temporary, for the itch of rejuvenating skin was enough to drive her mad so that she almost yearned for the pain to replace it. Still she bore it pridefully, entirely certain that she had been blessed by the fire; chosen for a future too bright to face head-on. It was an exciting idea, and the only puppyish notion that remained in the female's freshly-purged body. The rest of her had been scoured quite clean of whimsy and fancy, leaving behind a beast with a one-track mind and the taste of revenge on her tongue.

While she lay there in the dark, enjoying the breeze on her face, she thought of it. She languished in the idea of it while she lapped from the pool, and entertained the idea while she ripped into a fresh carcass. She dreamed of the day she would finally be well enough to retaliate, to rise up against the dark powers-that-be and bring them down one by one. Starting at the ebony femme with eyes of molten blue. She pictured that face in her mind's eye, and her snarls echoed around the cavern, seeing again the cold eyes and slightly furrowed brow, the livid scars and desire to feed that had become so familiar to her. A smile creased her tortured muzzle as she relished how the darkness seemed to be drawn to the light, despite the fact that it disappeared whenever it got too close. She had been given that holy task. The task to purge Moladion of all its evils, just as she had been purged, so that it no longer bowed to the darkness. A worthy calling.

A chilly wind stole into her cave and blasted her unsuspecting form, driving her from her ledge and into the warmer recesses of the dark. She could scent a storm brewing, and her entire left side ached with the knowledge, so that she was forced to stretch out in her nest, waiting for the pain to pass with the tempest.


Fiammetta - Female - No Home - No Family - 4YO - 28 inches, 32 pounds