Rage is a strange emotion. Just like love, it has the power to blind and render the feeler helpless to all but its choke-like pull, a chain around the neck of an unwilling beast. However, quite unlike its warmer counterpart, it is fuelled by loathing and selfishness until its bitter flame burns brighter than the sun and casts everything else into shadow. Fiammetta herself stood firmly in that shadow, her good sense eclipsed by its all consuming power, and she let it thrum through her veins and warm her body with anticipation. She had waited for so long to taste the flesh of her enemy between her teeth that another second seemed to her like eternity, and she did not waste time on trivial things like craning her neck to see a face hidden by a shoulder, just in case she had mistaken her quarry; no, the scent was there and such a notion was the least of her worries.

She lingered but briefly behind the female, sheltered by tall grasses, before the perfect moment presented itself and she leapt, flying with all the deadly intent of an eagle through the air. The other had not noticed her, and she hit her mark squarely, her teeth sinking deeply into the flesh between the dark shoulder blades as she ripped and tore. Hot blood filled her jaws and she swallowed it hungrily, triumph glittering in that ferociously red orb as she concentrated on doing as much damage as she could. As she had guessed, her prey bucked and plunged beneath her, half crazed by shock and pain, and she managed to dislodge Fiam's claws from her shoulder, although her canines remained embedded in flesh and she refused to let go. Her weight, although meagre, was enough to pull the other off balance and she fell heavily onto her side, thrashing blindly with her paws and struggling to snap at her invisible adversary. The white fea winced as heavy legs winded her and blunt claws tore at her belly fur, but still she held onto that neck, placing one of her own paws at the tender triangle of membranous flesh that yielded a windpipe and jugular. It throbbed beneath her pads and fed her excitement to a fever pitch so that she shook from the force of it. She let go of the muscle she tore and aimed for the killing bite, eyes fixated on that single patch of hair. Her mind throbbed from the knowledge that her thirst for revenge would finally be sated.

However in that final, crucial moment, something more pierced Fiammetta's brutal state of mind. Something deeper, almost hazy, something that she couldn't understand and she hesitated. Her eye, that a second before had been filled with anger, was suddenly unsure, swirling with indecision and she lingered above the neck of her attacker, unable to muster up the strength to make that killing blow.

It was a moment too long.

OOC: sorry for the lameness and shortness xx

Fiammetta - Female - No Home - No Family - 5YO - 28 inches, 32 pounds