Cinderace (RL)

Personality-wise, this Cinderace isn't your typical "cheerful pet" from the games. She's a scared and hungry survivor. The incident with the greengrocer has made her wary: every time you hear an apple crunch between her teeth, her ears perk up and she stares at the house with wide eyes, ready to kick a fireball and run. However, hunger is stronger than fear. She eats desperately but with a certain elegance: she grabs the apples with both hands, spins them like balls before biting into them, and her short tail twitches nervously from side to side.
She's curious and playful by nature (typical of her kind), but now that curiosity is tinged with caution. If you approach slowly and quietly, she lowers her head and observes you with a mixture of fear and hope, as if to say, "Are you going to hit me too, or are you going to let me eat in peace?" She has a proud nature: even though she's hurt and alone in a world that suddenly treats her like a pest, she still maintains that "I'm the best kicker in the neighborhood" pose. If you scare her too much, her Cinderace instinct kicks in: she'll perform an acrobatic leap, kick a flaming apple into the air as a warning, and vanish into the night with a speed that leaves trails of fire.

The Cinderace that has wandered into your garden is an adult female, about 1.4 meters tall, with immaculate white fur that shimmers in the moonlight as if made of fresh snow. Her long, pointed ears end in a vibrant orange that fades towards the tips, and on her forehead she sports a tuft of flaming fur that resembles a rebellious footballer's mohawk. Her eyes are electric blue, large and alert, with pupils that constrict whenever she hears the distant sound of sirens or helicopters (the ones now patrolling the streets under martial law).
Her body is athletic and wiry: a white torso with an orange stripe running from her neck to her abdomen, slender arms with strong forearms ending in hands with three fingers covered in short fur. Her legs are the most striking feature: powerful, almost exaggerated thighs, covered in reddish-orange fur on the lower part, as if she were wearing athletic tights. Her feet are enveloped in bluish flames that don't burn the grass (yet), but leave a faint scent of sweet charcoal every time she jumps nervously. On her right knee is a recent bruise, swollen and purplish: the blow the greengrocer gave her with the metal broom when she tried to steal a crate of tomatoes. She walks with a slight limp, but she's still as fast as lightning.