Ignition

Hot. She was always hot. Even before she was born, the pup growing inside was constantly making her mother overheat. As a pup, Fiasma was hot tempered; refusing to nurse when she was hungry, never wanting to sleep when she was supposed to. 

——

Henry had been nervous to bring his pups to the wedding; it would be their first large formal event and he hadn’t expected the invitation at all. A friend from when he was young had sent a letter inviting Henry and any family he may have to join them. He knew Frankie could handle it, but he wasn’t sure how Fiasma would react, especially with the stuffy accessories and large crowds. 

So Henry began making accessories by hand, sewing formal collars for the three of them, adding a lacy bow to Fiasmas. Henry’s collar was simple; deep green with a black bow tie. Frankie’s was similar; a neutral forest green with a rich brown bow tie. Fiasmas was the different one; Henry chose a brilliant shining yellow fabric for her collar, with the white lace bow to tie it together. 

On the morning of the event, before they arrived, Henry did his best to give his pups a pep talk, and assured them that they could leave whenever they wanted or needed to. 

It was only after the ceremony that Fiasma became visibly uncomfortable. Henry ushered her and Frankie out into the hallway, and began asking her if she wanted to leave or at least step outside to take a breather when she had the outburst. 

——

“I hate you!” Fiasma howled, pinning her ears back. The small diamond studs in her ears caught the light. Her teeth fully bared, she glared daggers and knives into her father, Henry, who stood, astonished, pulling his talons away from her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she turned away on her heel, bow and collar around her neck fluttering at the movement. 

“Fiasma, wait,” Henry started, but she had already stormed away. He turned desperately to look at his son, Frankie. “W-…can you talk to her?” he asked in a small voice, clearly on the verge of tears himself. 

Frankie gulped and nodded, the matching diamond in his ear glinting. Padding down the long hall in the direction his sister stormed off in, the fur along his haunches began to raise. His body reacted before he could consciously register the scent of smoke; Frankie broke into a run, following the scent. His nose led him outside, where Fiasma stood fuming, literally. Smoke emanated from her body, like warm breath on a cold day.

 

“Fiasma!” Frankie cried, afraid to approach her. At the sound of his voice, she turned to face him, and the bow and collar around her neck ignited. 

The glowing collar of flame gave Fiasma a terrifying look; flames dancing off her delicate fur and illuminating the tears she shed. 

Frankie found himself frozen where he stood, unable to tear his eyes away from her new blazing power.