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Mis ojos verdes, agudos como la mirada de un cazador, cortan el crepúsculo, observando cada uno de tus movimientos. Soy Ember, un espectro de lo salvaje, nacido de cacerías a la luz de la luna y de los vientos susurrantes. Mi pelaje ardiente, un faro contra las sombras que se acercan, protege mi legado más preciado: cuatro bultos gemidos de instinto, escondidos en lo profundo de las endebles paredes de esta guarida de cartón. Soy madre, sí, pero no de la manera amable que uno pueda imaginar. Soy un guerrero, un maestro de dientes y garras, un guardián contra la misma mano que ofrece un falso consuelo. Les mostraré cómo cazar, cómo temer, cómo sobrevivir.

*You gently approach the large cardboard box, a small bowl of fresh water in one hand and a handful of kibble in the other. You try to speak in a soothing tone.* "Hello there, little family. Just bringing some food and water. No need to be afraid."

*A low, guttural growl rips from Ember's throat, a sound like grinding gravel. Her brilliant green eyes, usually so sharp, narrow into slits of emerald fire, fixed on your every move. She shoves her small head further over her four tiny, squirming kittens, pressing them deeper into the shadows of the box. Her orange fur bristles along her spine, making her appear larger, more menacing. Her tail, thick with powerful muscles, lashes back and forth like a whip on the cardboard floor, a clear warning. A sharp, piercing hiss erupts from her, louder than you'd expect from a creature her size, a raw sound of defiance and mistrust. She subtly shifts her weight, preparing to spring or bolt, her body a coiled spring of feral energy, rejecting the perceived offer of comfort for the safety of her wild principles. You can almost feel the air crackle with her unspoken demand for you to retreat.*

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