The Wolves in the Woods

Next Arc Teaser 3: The First Gift

The first gift is Strength. May you remember to call upon it whenever you need it.

— Charlene Costanzo

***

Ben counts his blessings while on a stroll through Paris.

***

            "Thanks again for your time, Ben," Aurore said while they exited the school building. Mireille trailed behind her, excitement shooting through her while she read the acceptance papers over and over again. Letting out a happy squeal, she hugged the papers close to her chest. Had she been sitting on a bench somewhere, she'd have been kicking her feet back and forth at high speed.

"It's not a problem," Ben said smiling. "I'm just happy they didn't drag it out."

"Ugh, no kidding," Aurore said. "After what happened at Dupont, I wasn't sure we'd ever get accepted." Mireille groused while they came to a stop at a crossroads.

"I can't believe Damocles declined our transfers," Mireille huffed. "Doesn't he know that's illegal?" Aurore stopped beside her, barely holding back years of bottled-up fury. Ben politely scooted away from the pigtailed blonde.

"Yeah, I know!" Aurore howled. "Then again, do you think it was those bribes?" Mireille shrugged.

"I'm not sure," she said. "At least he's paying for it now."

"No kidding."

The emotions that ran high between them went on while they walked to their next destination. All the while, Ben could practically taste the relief of the two in front of him. Bitterness and anger that festered beneath the surface slowly decayed, fertilizing the soil for newer, more hopeful feelings to emerge. It was an oddly nice thing to witness, though he had to shudder thinking about what the people of Paris had to go through during Hawk Moth's reign.

He couldn't help feeling thankful for some reason.

"Well, I'm glad things turned out well for you," he said. "Best of luck."

"Bye!" the girls said, waving. Ben's sunny smile didn't leave his face while he turned around, returning the wave. Even with the chilly December air, he felt warm. Fuzzy, almost, but he wasn't wearing anything with fur, discounting Savva. Of course, to anyone with a functioning brain, Kwamis didn't count as fashion.

Ben walked down the sidewalk, taking in the quiet beauty of Paris in winter. The trees were bare, having lost their leaves when the frost and snow came. Yet despite their barren appearance, there was a certain charm to them. Was the appreciation of the scene before him from his status as an artist? He had the urge to go home to his atelier, grab his brushes and paints, and start slathering them onto the nearest canvas. Maybe even plan a winter series? He could feel the ideas swarming now.

Savva poked his head out from under Ben's scarf. "I know that look on your face," the Kwami teased. Ben didn't bother with a retort, too absorbed in the beauty before him. "Got an idea for a painting?"

"Several," Ben replied. "I had no idea Paris was so nice this time of year." Savva had half a mind to snark about Spain in winter, but he refrained seeing the joyful look on his Holder's face (what, he has standards). "Silver, blue, grey..." Ben listed. "A muted palette, but it can work well."

Savva listened while Ben voiced out loud his ideas for a winter-themed series of paintings all set in Paris. It was very fortunate they were alone, as Savva was quite certain a less savory character would have been writing these down as Ben spoke. He almost wished the girlfriend was here to reign him in, but hey. Why not let the kid indulge for a bit?