<span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #0040FF"><span style="font-family: Book Antique;">The tolling of the church bells would not stop. It had been eight minutes and forty-five seconds to be precise since their very first ringing peal reached Penelopeâ€™s ears. The fact that the church was over two miles away did not matter in the least, especially when you had the heightened senses of a Lycan.  Something that Penelope begrudged at the moment as it once more was nothing but a hindrance.<br/><br/>Sure she had excellent hearing, eyesight, and above par strength but when it all came down to it she would trade it all for being just <span style="font-style: italic">normal</span>. Your everyday average Jane did not get splitting headaches from the simplest things like an alarm system or become so overwhelmed by sensations in crowds that it was nearly debilitating. Letâ€™s not even delve into the whole transformation thing just now. <br/><br/>Growling in frustration Penelope glanced down at the worn wristwatch loosely dangling upon her narrow wrist. Her dark blue eyes shifting across the bleak landscape in an attempt to distinguish a figure approaching in the dense fog that had fallen slowly upon the small townâ€™s outskirts. <br/><br/>â€œWhere is he!?â€ Her voice came out raw and a cold sweat was breaking out upon her brow.<br/><br/>Her arms shaking, she wrapped them about her and continued to glance franticly about. All over the cold was setting into her bones but that could not ease the racking pain she knew was soon to befall her. A sharp twist of her gut forced a whimper to escape her lips. She didnâ€™t have long at all.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Noâ€¦god noâ€¦please not again! Why hasnâ€™t he come? Whatâ€¦what am I to do!?</span><br/><br/>Devastated, Penelope sunk down upon her hunches and fought to hold back her sharp gasps of pain as she settled in for what could only be described as her own living nightmare.</span></span></span>