fiammetta
by fire be purged
Fiammetta felt the cold breath of winter caress her face and steal the breath from her nostrils, whisking it away into the crisp blue of the firmament. She turned her eye upwards, watching it go, while she waited for the nameless female's reply to her previously uttered questions. Her lack of concentration was a show to conceal her curiosity, but the voice of the obsidian woman soon had the ravaged white wolf boring holes into her pelt, single red eye glowing viciously. The lady's statement, however, was calm and indifferent, proving her to be no neophyte on the subject of dealing with pride, and Fiam watched her as she lay, apparently untroubled by the fact that the creature who hated her more than any other being in Moladion sat barely a few paces away. Still, the way her blue eyes moved showed Fiam that she was not at ease, and any suspicious movement on her part would be met with brawn. Ah well, another time then.
“Once again, thank you for your kindness, but I will hunt for myself later.”
Fiam's tone was stout and gruff, brimming with finality. Although the crimson life-blood of the badger called to her and set her belly rumbling, she largely ignored it and, instead, bent to pick up a slim leg-bone from her own kill, crunching it noisily in two. Between snapping, she only just made out what the other female was saying to her, and she did not deign to reply to it. Instead, after swallowing her meager mouthful, she licked her lips and once more feigned disinterest, staring at the rolling hills of Asteraia and despising them. She had never been one for wide open spaces. No, Fiam had liked the freedom of the mountains and the privacy of the caves. She had even enjoyed the cosy arms of the forest welcoming her into its depths. No matter how hard she tried though, the dry grass never soothed her frazzled nerves. Instead it clacked angrily at her, as though sensing her tumultuous spirit, spiking at her bare skin and filling her pelt with burrs. It was much like its mistress in fact, irritating and painful, and yet it possessed a mystery that the young warrioress could never seem to decipher.
Heaving a guttural sigh, she turned back to the scarred fatale, in time to catch her puzzled expression as she inquired after Fiam's sins. Along with the monster's voice, a familiar perfume invaded the female's questing nostrils and she rose hurriedly, eye narrowed and ears slicked to her skull. It was as though the mere mention of that night had summoned the beast, whose fury was aimed like burning arrows at the damaged form of Fiam. The white wolf growled in return, anger creasing her lips and furrowing her brows and yet, at the same time, she could not help but let a wash of guilt cloud her vision. Surprisingly, Tobias' imprint turned from her to face the newcomer, muzzle pressed into her pelt, soothing her with voice and motions. Fiammetta was taken aback by the show of affection, unwilling to admit to herself that the wolf she had grown to scorn was not wholly evil, and it was easy enough to hide in the situation as the stranger broke away from the black wolf's grasp to rush her. Fiammetta stood strong and proud, hackles raised and tail arched with defiance, every inch a fighter. As though this show alone had dissuaded her, the other paused again, although she kept her gaze fixed to Fiam's chest.
“I did not stop to ask her name after I had mistakenly savaged her in the free-lands thinking she was you. If you really want to know you can ask her,” here she paused and gestured to Flare with her head, “She was there, she protected her. Naturally I assumed it was her pup, although there is little resemblance between them.”
Her eye told the story of her deep guilt and the regret that clouded her, but she showed no other signs of weakness. She was not the friend of Tobias' imprint to lean upon her shoulder and confess her sins, sighing and weeping with shame. She would stand strong and tall, apologizing to no one for her mistake.
No Home - No Family - 5YO - 28 in, 32 lbs