The Heartwood Well, nobody's perfect

She stood there a long time, staring at the ruins of the forest, the smell of stale cinders lingering in her nose. Then, slowly, Wildfire began to pick her way through the wreckage. She had no idea what might have caused it. She only knew about fire secondhand (having asked about her name before); could this possibly be the result of a wildfire? She didn't immediately think to attribute it to the storm, unaware that lightning could strike objects and set them aflame.

She touched her nose to a burnt and blackened stump with bits of gray ash clinging to it. It crumbled, the ash floating into the still air. Wildfire blinked, watching it drift, when her amber eyes caught sight of a pale shape among the otherwise dark rubble in the distance. It was another wolf. Her body tensed, though she licked her lips with interest when she noted the stranger's small size and petite features. Was she a youth too?

"Hey," she called out after a beat of uncertainty, remaining rooted to the spot. "What're you doing?" It seemed a sort of inane question but Wildfire wasn't sure what else to ask right off the bat.