fiammetta
by fire be purged
Another smile, bright and unbidden, rose to the charred lips of the little wolf, her ravaged face softening with its glow. Something about the innocent, unobtrusive presence of the lad brought joy to her heart and she could, for a few moments, forget the heavy burden she carried and the plague of the boy's family to enjoy imparting her hard-earned knowledge to him. He watched her eagerly, bright eyes aglow with concentration, and she suddenly saw a flicker of the white and red challenger who had protected the black youngster from her jaws all those weeks ago. If he was, in fact, her son, then Fiam considered herself making amends for her earlier transgression. Words slipped, malformed and broken, from between his childish jaws and she nodded her assent at him, “Yes, you'll sneak up on the butterfly. Up.” She repeated the word he had bungled twice, letting his mind note and retain it for future use.
Firmly ignoring her reply, the white and black pup copied her hunting pose, his natural assumption of it admirable. Due to his youth, she did not bother correcting the slight misalignments of his frame, knowing they would improve with age. He was practically flawless, in fact, and she parted her lips to say so when he sighed his name out into the open air, replying to her earlier question without shifting his focus from his prey. Not wanting to break his concentration, she did not bother to reply and, instead, narrowed her eyes, silently egging him on. The butterfly continued to flap in comfortable silence, soaking up the sunbeams with an oblivious air to it that did not fool the white fatale. It took off at the mistimed leap of the male, and Fiam was about to tell him to cut his losses when he launched into the air and grabbed an unfurled wing between his needle teeth, falling back to the earth with a thud. Fiammetta was astounded at his prowess and stamped both her paws on the earth in the wolf form of applause, her grin broad and her tail waving to match his own as he swaggered up to her, his pride evident.
Her easy joviality vanished, however, when he spoke, reminding her of his parentage, and she took a few deep breaths before replying, “Well done. Singe did good. Butterfly dead. Not poisonous, Singe can eat.” She kept her sentences simple and short, hoping he would understand the key words at least. Despite herself, she couldn't help being proud of her student. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and she parted her dark lips, “How is father with Singe? Kills?”
She hoped he would understand what she could not articulate to him, her cocked head meant to impart inquisitiveness as she asked after Tobias. If he was as rough with his progeny as he was with the rest of the world, she had little doubt that the pup would require a few fighting skills. Perhaps being able to stand up to his father might even segment him from the killer, opening up a new and better path from him. These were her ideas, anyway, and she was keen to put them into motion.
No Home - No Family - 6YO - 22 in, 32 lbs