Auriga's voice wasn't the first to reach the cursed-smelling space. Instead, the first was a sharp, scared voice: a young man's voice, shrill with panic.
"Wait! Wait-" he yelled, and the fear in his voice was so sharp that you could almost smell it in the air.
Soon after, of course, came Auriga's voice-- though she didn't say anything. She laughed, though. Deep, amused. Entertained. The sound of a scuffle came next, and Auriga could be glimpsed first, as she had to turn around halfway to grab the scruff of her prey.
They crossed into proper view, illuminated by the magma. Auriga stood tall as always, her head cranes down, wicked teeth in the neck of a scraggly, patchy-furred young man near her own age. He was beside himself with panic, two and a half year at the oldest. It was clear looking at him that his fur was not patchy due to the way weather treated him. Blood smeared his skin. Auriga had torn out chunks of his fur. Of his skin. He struggled still as she began to bodily drag him towards one of the magma-river's more accessible banks.
She raised her voice as she threw the wolf to the ground. He tried to get up; Auriga stepped idly on his neck.
"Uncle, are you home? I brought a young man who insisted on disrespect--" and here the man took to panicked chattering and screeching. "And I thought... why not have a bit of a family bonding experience? After all, he's rather weak." Auriga sneered down at the man under her paws.
"Auriga"
