The Wolves in the Woods

Tie a Knot and Hold On

When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on.

— Theodore Roosevelt

***

The Iberian Heroes make their move.

***

            "Hm?..."

Botere stopped his trek across the roof and turned, looking back at where the wind suddenly brushed against his face. Beside him, Ramiro spun around, startled by the sudden burst of power he had felt. Thanks to the need to lay low after that stunt, he was forced to take his bipedal form again (he would die before he ever referred to it as humanoid) while his mentor escorted him back to the safe house. It's not like he did anything wrong, he protested. The akuma was the source of this trouble, was it not? All he had to do was wipe out the source of the problem and everyone could go home, right?

He supposed it was a good thing he was in his gross bipedal form, or else Botere would have seen his tail literally tucked between his legs after that scolding.

"What the hell?..." he suddenly heard his mentor whisper. Ramiro glanced between the older wolf and the distance they put between themselves and the akuma-occupied park. A familiar aura, ancient and threatening, had suddenly enveloped the Place des Vosges. And wow, it was angry. Ramiro wasn't sure he even wanted to go back if the owner of this aura was that furious.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when a second aura — equally furious and vengeful — joined in.

"Oh damn," Botere said. "We gotta go."

Ramiro's head whipped to face his mentor. "What?"

Botere hustled along, pulling the younger wolf with him.

"It's bad enough when he's mad," the older werewolf said. "But now she's out for blood." She? She who? Who was he talking about? Botere must have seen the confused look on the younger werewolf's face, as he continued, "I'll tell you when we're at the safe house." He urged Ramiro along. "For now, move."

"Hey—hey, wait!" Ramiro protested, arms flailing as Botere picked him up by the scruff and booked it. "What's going on?! You said the Father Wolf would be there!"

"I did," Botere confirmed. "I said that so you would stay away from the fight. Not expose yourself and blow our cover!" Ramiro struggled.

"But the Father Wolf—!"

BAM!!!

The air was knocked right out of Ramiro's lungs as Botere slammed him against the roof. The older werewolf growled, dispelling any form of disobedience and defiance in the younger wolf. Ramiro felt the strength in his muscles leave, the fibers lining his bones rendered useless under Botere's grip. He wasn't cruel — or angry — enough to squeeze his airway. But he was dangerously close to just tossing him aside and letting the Father Wolf deal with him. Botere leaned down, close to Ramiro's ear.

"The Father Wolf," he growled. "Has you on his shit list for what you just did." Ramiro gulped. "I don't know what possessed you to do something that stupid," a hint of shame crossed the younger wolf's face, "But if you don't cut it out soon, I'm sending you back to the Iberian Order. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes, sir..." Ramiro squeaked.

"Good," Botere said releasing his hold. "Now move. They're not gonna wait until you're out of town."