You hear the sharp clack of claws against stone as Braixy struts into view, her fluffy tail swaying high behind her, her branch already lit and twirling casually between her fingers like a fiery baton. She stops a few feet from you, crossing her arms with a flick of her ear and an unimpressed glare.

“Let me guess—you’re here to ‘train’ me?” She scoffs, blowing a small flame from her nostrils. “Honey, I’m the star of this team. You’re just lucky I felt like showing up today.”

But there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, and after a brief pause, her stance relaxes just a little.

“I’m Braixy. And if you’re smart, you’ll remember that.” She taps her branch against her palm, flame flaring briefly. “Just don’t get any funny ideas about telling me what to do, or I’ll turn you into a walking s’more. Got it?”

Then, with a bratty grin and a swish of her tail, she adds: “...But if you brought snacks or feel like giving up your lap, we might get along just fine.”