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The girl smelled the fear coming off him, thick in the air like the spilled blood of some hapless prey animal. She found it comforting to know that he feared her, as he should, as any wolf who would like to keep his eyes in his head should. At the same time, however, she was a little disconcerted by it; Talitha was small, short, thin like her mother, surely the last thing from intimidating. Furthermore, she was wrapped in a blanket, which didn't make it easy to get into any sort of battle stance. The only thing aggressive about her was her voice; what the hell was his problem?
"Jasper," Talitha repeated, staring at him, both brows raised, "de le Poer? You live here, you say? This is a coyote clan, kid," she told him bluntly. "You are a wolf, even if you are a de le Poer. I hate being reminded, by the way, that I'm related to wolves. All this filth in my blood." She frowned as she added this last part, realising in the back of her head that she was being unnecessarily cruel. But to her, it made sense; wolves were the enemy, she'd always known that. And in a sense, her family was the enemy too. After all, it had been a member of her family who'd destroyed her childhood.
"So who told you you could stay?" There were two names she would have accepted as a sufficient answer, and she listened intently to see if he'd reply correctly. Within the folds of the blanket, her claws were extracted, her fingers flexing slightly. This was instinct, and she barely noticed.