Fiammetta was caught in the web of the arachnid, held fast in the silken strands of terror spun by an ever-patient foe. Her thrashing did little other than beckon the monster to her as the fly draws the spider, every movement drawing her closer to the cold, dead heart of the widow who regarded her. She watched hopelessly, channelling all the rage that she possessed into that single, fiery orb, but it did not deter the she-witch anymore than a pin could a lion. And, like a lion, she circled her prey almost casually, as though already certain of her demise. Around the pair the night thickened like syrup, the softness of it waning into an ebony darkness that seemed to focus all heartbeats on this one moment, this single confrontation.
A small night bird dared to break the silence with a chirrup, although neither female even flicked an ear his way. Both were too intent on the other, both perfectly aware of what was to come. Fiam, her strength waning, could only wait, managing a small snarl every now and again in a vain attempt to chase Death from a kill. Suddenly, the padding of pawsteps ceased and the alabaster femme held her breath, readying herself for the defence, but no attack came. Instead, the mocking, mauled face of her adversary hovered into view, a sneer curving her terrible lips into black scimitars. When she spoke, her voice was empty of sympathy, something Fiammetta found even more disconcerting than the void that was Tobias. She knew somewhere in her heart of hearts, that the black plague was a slave to his instincts, he did what had to be done and found no joy in the deeper vestiges of life. The nameless wraith that haunted her now though was very clearly enjoying every moment of the ivory girl's distress, inhaling it as a connoisseur does a fine vintage before taking a sip. Fiam resented her joy but could do nothing to stop it, pain as strict a gaoler as any wronged man. She could only listen as the hollow voice reached her ears, a note of promise distinct as day in the unpleasant filigree of the raven woman's tones. Fiam managed the smallest of grins, although she could not see that she appeared almost as monstrous as the one who stood above her, “You seem...proud of your scars. I...wonder whether you will be so proud when you're hopping on..three legs.”
Jaylah was undoubtedly smiling down at her eldest granddaughter from the safety of the clouds, proud of her words and the fearless way she took her last stand. Fiam, however, could smile no longer and dropped her head to her paws, only just barely managing to keep her muzzle above the waterline. True, the Aplos had leached her of any infection that may later have occurred, but she had lingered too long in its icy embrace, and winter's song began to chill her bones and lull her flesh into numbness. It was a delicious break from the pain, but also an indication of her descent into darkness. Only the splashing of paws in the shallows reminded her that she lived yet, and she growled tiredly in reply, although she could no longer lift her head. So far gone was she, that she did not even deign to reply to the words of the dark one, for what difference would they make? It was clear that Tobias would not save her, even if he had been around to witness her death.
A moment or two passed in which it seemed that the whole world held its breath at once. This before it exploded in a harsh cacophony of sound. Without warning, Fiam felt the weight of Death settle on her slim chassi, the female heavy above her. With a paw placed firmly on her neck, her feeble struggles could not displace it, and she soon found her muzzle pressed into the cold earth. She cried under her breath and twitched in her grasp, but she was a worm in the grasp of an eagle, and there was nothing she could do. Somewhere she felt the sudden agony as teeth ripped into the shoulder on her good side, but it seemed far off, almost as though it was happening to somebody else. Luckily for her, the female had chosen her shoulder to rip in to. After slicing through the fat and ruff, she met the membranous muscle that was Fiam's trapezius, thin and susceptible. Her teeth made several incisions in the sheet, although she did not tear it completely from its tendons. In the wolf, the trapezius muscle is a small one used mainly in drawing the limb cranially and keeping the shoulder attached to the trunk. Should it be severed, it would not affect her neck at all, and do little to impede her motion. It would only be painful for awhile, and leave her right shoulder jutting slightly above her left. In this she was lucky, for damage to her rhomboideus may have been more severe. Sharp claws also raked at her pelt, digging through the fur into the soft flesh beneath. She had no presence of mind to feel anything though, and barely noticed when the heavy burden was lifted from her.
Only after several long moments of choking on water and thick mud did she realise she could lift her head and, coughing and spluttering, she shifted her muzzle above the water line. It was a small victory, but it reminded Fiammetta that her heart continued to beat and she opened her faded red orb, ignoring how the world spun and the stars seemed to paint the sky a million shades of white. She didn't truly understand what was happening anymore, or why the attack on her had ceased, but she was glad of it.
Her last thought was that an angel had been sent from the heavens to aid her, for why would fire mark her so and then let her die? No, she had a greater destiny than any could imagine.
OOC: So Fiam has passed out:p If Atlas manages to get rid of Tickers (which I hope he does) he will need to move her somewhere and keep her warm for her to survive:) Remembering she is now covered in blood, and has no fur on the entire left side of her body:p
Fiammetta - Female - No Home - No Family - 4YO - 28 inches, 32 pounds