The night was a turmoil of boiling chaos, and it seemed that Fiammetta had inadvertently found herself in the eye of the storm. Rain and rumbling growls lashed at her as she danced her dance of death around the raven creature, her single optic burning voraciously at him through the squall. Every ounce of frustration, guilt and hate that had been burning in her breast came tumbling out of her like a stream of scolding lava, and Tobias was the unfortunate target for her rage. She would sink him like an island in the middle of the sea, drown him in a pool of his own ignorant vanity. He may have believed it as sure as the sun would shine again, but Fiam knew that he was no immortal, and she intended to show all of Moladion that the demon prince could bleed just as they did. She was at that moment, of course, blissfully unaware that Tobias was no longer just a stalker in the darkness, but a king. Not that the knowledge would have changed much, except perhaps added to her bonfire of fury that he deigned to serve alongside the monster who had maimed her.

Above them the storm continued to bluster on, bright forks of lightning whip-lashing across the inky darkness while huge rolls of thunder roared across the valley like a herd of stampeding mammoths. The white witch narrowed her single eye to a slit against the onslaught of stinging water, and prepared to make her next snaking lunge one for the history books. However, as if foreseeing her movements, the black wolf whom had thus far remained motionless launched himself forward, canines gleaming, and moved to grip her ruff, his own standing to attention. He seemed even more terrifying than usual, as if the long suffering patience with which he normally indulged her had come to an end. She yelped as he grabbed her, ignoring his monosyllabic reply to her prior goading, and turned her head to try and sink her teeth into his soft flesh. Her flailing was useless, however, as he held her in such a way that she could not possibly reach him and she could do little but hang from his jaws until he dropped her with a displeased grunt. No sooner had her paws touched earth, however, when she whipped her head around to him and went for his jugular. She was in the perfect position to do so, for he stood slightly behind and to the side of her, and it would take little effort on her part to reach around and take his lower neck between her teeth. She would strike with all the speed of a cobra, using the element of surprise and all the power she possessed. If he dodged to his right, he would find only the bulk of her hindquarters blocking him from motion and a shift to the left would move him right into her waiting jaws. His only option for a dodge would have been to back up, a move requiring more forethought than the female wolf had given him time for. He was , perhaps for the first time in his life, in real trouble.

And Fiammetta? She reveled in her position, feeling that she had begun to take hold of her destiny at last. The fire had blessed her, leaving her semi-naked and terribly scarred, but it had delivered her enemy into her waiting paws and it was time to administer his punishment. Let him pay for his sins, as they all would one day have to. Let him deliver his life into the jaws of Fenris and, perhaps his loss would pierce the heart of the beast whom she hunted more than her canines ever could. Between her (hopeful) mouthful of flesh, the white bitch with the tawny brown slash of fur grinned.

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