There is something furtive about Death when it comes for you. It does not simply appear, dressed to destroy, and flit your soul away. No, it steals upon a being, slowly but surely as hunter stalks prey, endlessly patient and secure in the knowledge that the grave-worms would soon be having their fill. When Death is first glimpsed by his unlucky victim, the reaction is always the same. It begins with a faint fluttering of the heart and shallow pulsing of the lungs, followed by a sudden thickening of the tongue and terrified sheen to the cornea. Then there is the great and horrible nothingness that follows, the sudden lack of sound all that remains to prove that Death has done his job well.

However, when Death came to meet Fiammetta, he did it with a flourish. There was no time for his presence to elicit any sort of reaction within her before he stepped silkily from the shadows, a picture of brutish force black as a moonless night, and towered before her. He glowered down at her from eyes green as emeralds, that would have been quite beautiful had they held any trace of emotion at all. But alas they were blank, blank as the slate of the heart they reflected. The heart of a killer. Surprise was a picture on the girl's face that she soon wiped away, replacing it with a quiet and burning fury as she looked up at the gargantuan. Gone was the trace of fear she had felt as a youngster when facing the magnificently terrible behemoth, gone the overconfidence and naivety and, in their place, a volcano of ferocity bubbled away, threatening to explode at any moment. She bristled like a porcupine, matching his show of force muscle fibre for muscle fibre, instinctively aware that a failure to do so would only highlight her weakness and make her pain known to the beast; a fatal mistake.

Without warning the snake struck out, his glowing eyes singling him out from the darkness as his head moved low, lips pulling back in a ragged snarl to display rows of sharp canines used to peeling flesh from bone. Fiam shivered but did not back away, even when the creature strove to force her yield, her pride as much of a prison as his instincts. Instead she lifted her head higher, a deep growl reverberating through her chest and shaking her on her paws, so that she wondered whether the sound had indeed emitted from her slight frame. She kept her red-hot eye fixed firmly to his vacant visage, although the inclined line of her jaw revealed the ravaged side of her face, the eyeless socket and perpetually lifted lips glowing dimly in the moonlight. She made a rather more intimidating site than she had before. The two stood that way for a few moments, locked in an invisible battle of wills, both refusing to look away, until a thought occurred to the ivory female and she spoke, “Where is the demon you slaver after, dog? I have a score to settle with her.” Past experience told her the hellion would likely misinterpret or ignore her words, but she tried anyway. Her wounds still smarted almost as much as her pride, and she slept every dawn with the thought of revenge singing her lullabies. If she ever happened upon the blue-eyed bitch again, she would personally see to it that the nameless fox wore scars to match her own. Craning her neck, she attempted to see beyond the hulking shadow into the depths of the woods behind him, wondering if he kept her company this icy winter's night. The rapidity of the icy halo of his breath made her think he kept company with some wolf.

When her keen eyes spied naught but a tangle of branches, she finally recognised the expression on his face, and became distressingly aware of her own perfume peppering the evening. As if he too had suddenly become conscious of her budding womanliness he darted forward, taking her by surprise, his chest making contact with hers in the hollow manner of flesh meeting flesh, his neck brushing her naked skin. For a moment she could not react, so frozen was she in the caverns of her own mind. His nearness both excited and revolted her, the warmth of his pelt against her body sending her into a previously unknown state of electrification that reminded her of the lightning storm in which fire had chosen to mark her so. Her brain became hazy and she found herself pivoting, turning to present herself to him, wanting him carnally, craving his savageness. However, the painful rasping of his tongue against her scabs, and the feel of membranous flesh tearing beneath the heavy caress of his teeth was too much, and she squealed as a female in heat is apt to do, pulling away from him even as he roughly pressed his sinewy body against hers, extending his muzzle to taste the air. Before Fiam could make another attempt to pull away, alabaster canines met in her scruff and she found herself beneath the massive stalker, one of his forelimbs thrown across her back in an ecstasy of ownership. His growling was a courtship song, and he attempted to shift her further beneath him – an easy feat due to her small size – and she let him. However, before he managed to grip her more tightly, she dropped her body to the ground, hoping her scruff would slip from his jaws. At that moment, she would back-peddle from beneath his stomach, forcing an exit gap between his hind limbs. Once free, if he did not turn quick enough, she would leap atop his broad back and sink her teeth firmly into his neck region, powerful jaws seeking to crush the cervical vertebra of her foe. If, however, his movements were half as swift as hers and he followed her motion, she would simply halt, all four legs planted squarely but slightly bent to lower her centre of mass, watching him furiously, keeping him away from her blind side and trying to ignore the pain.

Tobias' imprint may have bested the femme, but she was not about to let him take advantage of her wounds as well.


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