fiammetta
by fire be purged
Fiammetta was as surprised at the boys stuttering declaration than if she had witnessed a great, golden cat falling from the clouds. Her single eye widened in disbelief, and she had to fight against the urge to utter a deep and guttural growl. From where she stood, she had a good view of the boy as he watched her, gaze so alarmingly like her own in many ways and yet different. Peering more deeply, she sought the deadened soul that Tobias bore, and saw naught. All that glittered in his heart was childishness and innocence, his smile and pricked ears giving away the almost desperate interest that leaked from his every pore. Her ears flicked wildly as she struggled to centre herself, trying to deduce the wisest action she could take. Fiam could not deny that she wanted to kill the lad, ridding the land of evil before it had time to take root and yet, the white lady wasn't monstrous. She could no more bring herself to harm the slight boy than she could cease the desire to drink when she thirsted, and so she sighed, hackles settling evenly upon her shoulders once again.
Appearing to be oblivious to her show of disdain, the boy got to his clumsy paws and trotted over to her. She watched him gloomily, but couldn't help a smile from twitching on the corners of her lips when he reached up to lick at her muzzle, hot tongue catching the hairs on her chin, before he fell in at her side. Her grin grew broader as the boy practically shook with intensity of his attention on her, and she nodded her assent as he tried to speak.
“Very good. Stalking lesson. Do what I do, and see if you can sneak up on that butterfly over there.” She gestured to an unfortunate, speckled insect that sat on a thin blade of grass, lightly flapping its wings as it sunned itself. Expertly, Fiam shifted her minute frame into the hunter's crouch, stomach pressed so close to the earth that her fur almost brushed it, but not quite. One foreleg was raised in readiness for motion, and her tail hung low and yet curled up to avoid it catching on anything that might give her away. She took two or three steps in this frame, neck low-slung and eye narrowed but focused on her target. Still many paces away from the butterfly, she sat on her haunches and turned to look at the youngster, admiring his uniquely patterned pelt,“Now you try. Careful to pick up each paw slowly and, whatever you do, don't growl.” Too many times had she witness an overzealous youngster give itself away with an excited cry, sometimes even putting it in danger. It would do well to educate the new generation on such important matters.
As she waited, she kept one ear pricked. No doubt the child's mother would not be pleased if she found her son in the company of an Asteraian prisoner. Still, she should count herself lucky Fiam hadn't the heart to kill a child or the boy's blood would already be staining the grass. The boy.
Absently, she asked him,“What's your name?”
No Home - No Family - 6YO - 22 in, 32 lbs