.talitha strong {color:#858551;}
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Her hair — dark, thin, and short around her ears, growing into a slight mane along her back, but not so noticeable in the Lupus form — blew back as the wind changed direction and, just like that, she was facing a formidable foe. No; more than formidable. She may have been God's little finger, but this man was His Hand, His Hammer. He was everything that God was, and that was a huge threat to Talitha. Most of his religion, she didn't quite understand yet, but she knew God. That much she had picked up before being wrenched away. They had lived in a land of desecration, had come to this place hoping for... What? She imagined it had been a hope for some kind of peace from the wolves that never relented, the tyrants that had unsound minds and cried to the night with no consideration. The coyotes mimicked them, but coyote voices were hauntingly warm; a wolf's howl was cold and melancholy.
So she stood there, face-to-face with her worst nightmare, watching ever dark hair along her father's back rise as if he had been touched by lightning. His golden eyes, so warm even when he was so different from her in his attitude, were no longer her daddy's eyes; they were eyes of a man who wanted nothing more than to snuff out her flame. And for all that, Talitha cowered. Had it been some wolf, who was actually a tiny bit larger than Gabriel, she might have been able to stand up a little taller, to challenge him, but this was not a Luperci in shambles. This was someone who had breathed life into her bones and bodies, had told her to rise and had gave her purpose she would otherwise have not found with ease.
This, she knew, was madness. The beast was charging now, not lumbering as a bear but swift and sleek. Reaction time could not have been worse in her, but she did manage to stumble out of the way with a weak cry, falling onto her side at the attempt to side-step as she did in her Optime form. This wasn't the way the Lykoi had wanted to learn! She shuffled back on the sands as much as she could, making herself tiny, so the man who resembled nothing less than God and commanded His will upon the subjects He could not personally deal with might forgive her blunders.