fiammetta
by fire be purged
Fiammetta found herself drawn to the youngster, enjoying his looks of pleasure as much as he appeared to enjoy the approval on her twisted features, every inch of him innocent and yet exuding potential. Despite his unfortunate parentage, it was clear to the female that he was tailored for greatness and, with the right tutor, he may just make the benevolent but powerful leader his father could never be. The thought brought a smile to her muzzle and she let it glow down on the child, ears flicking back and forth as she did so. The boy strutted before her, beautiful winged thing hanging from his jaws as he grasped it rather delicately. She did not try to remove it from him, only watched as his pride puffed out his chest and set a spring to his step.
A pity he did not know the language of wolf so well though, for he missed much of what she said, and she found it rather disconcerting having to dumb down her sentences to enlighten one who was otherwise so bright. Instead of swallowing it though, as she had expected him to, he instead placed a gentle paw upon one wing, leaving Fiam marvelling at how the son of cruelty and darkness could show such kindness. The beautiful being flapped wildly beneath his grasp and he pawed at it absently, no doubt struggling to come up with a reply to her question that pertained to his sire.
Eventually and, just as she had expected he would, Singe managed to come up with some sort of answer, although it took Fiammetta awhile to decipher it. While she struggled, he pounced upon his catch, crumpling the insect's fragile wings and reminding the white wolf that he was still a child, and play trumped kindness any day for one so full of youth. She fought to hide her grin, not wanting him to think she mocked him, and his red eyes found her single orb as he enquired about the meaning of the word poisonous. A rush of satisfaction pierced her heart as she realised he harboured a desire to learn, and she considered what her ext move would be even as she answered the boy, “It good father no kills. Good mother protects. Singe too smart for father to kill. Smart better than strong. Can be weak and smart and father won't kill. Singe must try be smart!” and then, with a pause to let her words sink in, “Poisonous means bad. Make Singe sick. Snake poisonous. Some butterflies poisonous too. Bright colours mean poisonous.”
Fiammetta inhaled deeply after her rather lengthy statement, tiring quickly with the struggle of explaining language to the little pup, but pleased at how quickly he seemed to catch on, and how he yearned to know more. Perhaps, when he was older, she would take him under her wing, teach him to talk and to fight, teach him to hunt and even to lead. For now though, she was merely a prisoner of his father's, and he was but a means to pass the time.
No Home - No Family - 6YO - 22 in, 32 lbs