Starglow Basin desorden

against every thought, every instinct, she had remained with the man and his ragged, bloody corpse of a woman.

they had relocated to the south, and against all odds, said woman was recovering. fiamma would never not be amazed by the turnaround. truly, it was a gift from god—and indeed, it was this turn of fortune that convinced her to remain with this motley crew.

today, one of said crew graced her presence with a small token of appreciation. she eyed the snack with a brief, skeptical eye before taking it—a wicked beast snatching prey from the hands of those that fed her. 

smack, smack, crunch, and the thing was devoured.

grazie mille, fiamma told soto, with a graceful incline of her muzzle. she did not miss the state of him, the nervous, restless energy that seemed to permeate every facet of his being. whatever had torn his woman to shreds was still out there—and still looking for blood.

come ti chiami? she asked. mi chiamo fiamma. fiamma di rossi, di. . .

she trailed off then, unsure how much to reveal. his accent was strange enough that she did not worry about his knowing her father's people. but a shared tongue was as much a liability as it was a connection, even beyond any misunderstandings. she did not want to risk—

but then, she'd revealed di rossi—

fiamma, the silver woman decided with frank finality, icy eyes fixed upon her new companion.