Fiam reclined on jagged precipice inside her old den place. She had long since left the Grotto for, in her desire to find peace, she had discovered just how many crazy bats lived in the place and had high-tailed it elsewhere in search of a more quiet den site. She had not, much to her chagrin, found anywhere suitable enough to call home and had therefore loped back to the caverns in order to regain perspective of what she was looking for in a house. Her visit had taken her longer than she anticipated though, for she had found the comfort of her old hole much as she remembered it and had lingered there. The cold walls gave her solace and the echoes, company, and she found the coolness of the area soothed both her new battle-scars and the old slivers she had obtained from The Burning.

As she lay, comfortable and placid, her wounded side pressed against the rock floor, a new sound greeted her and quick as a flash she was sitting upright, head cocked laterally to make better use of her last remaining ear. She was still sitting that way when a wolf emerged into her private space, black as the depths of the caves that littered the Grotto, nose to the ground. She paused, statuesque, almost like granite herself while the imposter searched, sifting through scents that never lingered for long due to the icy droughts that were given to swamp the hollows, especially so late in fall. While she hid in plain sight, she pored over the idea of letting him continue to upturn her home, uncontested, after which he would no doubt leave and not return. Her other option was to disturb her hard-won peace and chase him out, an action that would leave her riled for the rest of the day. With all the wisdom of a grown lupine, she chose the latter. Issuing a growl that would have made Tobias himself squirm inside his skin, she leapt from her perch to land just before the stranger, hackles up. She flashed her scars to him, aware of the effect her horrifying visage could have on someone who didn't expect to see it, before turning her head and fixing him with the fiery depths of her good eye.

Only once she had done so, did she realise that the other's perfume was familiar to her. She could not, for the life of her, remember where she had seen him last or under what circumstances though, and so she did not soften her terrible aura. Friend or foe, he had distressed her afternoon nap, and Fiam needed just about every second of beauty sleep she could possibly get.

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