an Origin

     The attention that she had drawn escaped her bruised mind and, as a result, she did not notice the two predatory beasts approaching her until they were just a few paces away. They appeared suddenly, as if by magic, and surprised her into pure reaction; her aching body jerked an unsteady half-step away, ears twisting uneasily to each side of her head while her upper lip threatened to display a set of fangs. A low growl began in her throat as she stared, dazed and confused. It took her a moment to grasp what she was seeing: an onyx giant with giant viper-like canines that extended beyond its jawline, accompanied by a giant feline patterned in cream, tan, and dark spotted rosettes. A mirage, a nightmare, or a hallucination? As if it were also stunned, the insistent voice that had urged her to move was silent. As her gaze followed their appearance, her expression grew slack with a childlike curiosity.

     ‘Have you lost your bearings, little-wolf?’ It was only too obvious that she had, indeed, lost her bearings. The sound of his (yes, masculine) voice was like a lifeline to her roiling mind, giving her an anchor with which to steady. However, the small amount of sobriety was accompanied by an undercurrent of indignation.  The bridge of her nose wrinkled. “Little?” she snapped in protest, the word spitting out of her mouth before she had a chance to consider it - an uncharacteristically impulsive action, a direct side-effect of her brain injury. The insult to her stature (on the taller side of average, thank you) distracted her to the point that it no longer bothered her that she was towered over as if she was still tiny and adolescent. It was as if the swarthy beast in front of her was a Titan from the legends of old, effortlessly exuding strength and predatory grace, but this truth was smothered by irritation. It simultaneously escaped her notice that the great feline was, in fact, quite solid.

     However, his lack of a womanly chaperone stood out as a dramatic breach of propriety. How inappropriate! Theokleia straightened as best she could, which was only slightly, sweeping unfocused eyes over the bay before deciding that the action hurt and returning her attention to the errant wolf. “Where is your Mistress?” There was a cloud of disapproval in her tone of voice, sharp with thunderclaps of accusation. Another shiver ran down her spine and through her limbs before she could question him further,  prompting her to redirect. "O-oh, nevermind!" she said quickly, teeth chattering, having rationalized that it was simply not her responsibility to monitor an unattended Lykopi (especially while her thoughts seemed so spongey, her body broken). That was a problem for another time (or wolf).   “Shelter. Where?”