The Wolf Among Us (Completed)

Chapter 15 - Madre

Estera was often told how much she took after her mother. What people didn't know, was that being the daughter of Catalina Montenegro meant competing with her reputation. It meant living in her shadow. But this time the shadow would shrink under the glare of Estera's sword, and she was determined to emerge as the warrior she was destined to be.

Pushing against the citizens running past her, she headed for the front gates where she knew she would find her mother. If there was one thing the woman did best, it was making an entrance. She wouldn't dare set foot inside the fortress until she was certain she could step over the bodies that carved the opening for her. Then she'd stand on their corpses like a wolf over bones after a feast of flesh, and wear their blood like a headdress of rubies.

The plan was to push her from that pile of limbs, and show her mother that perhaps at one time she was legendary, but now it was just old tales.

She didn't have to search far. A faint whistle carried over the war cries of people around her, jerking her attention towards it. There Catalina was in the center of the crowd with her right-hand man, Elliot Shaw, at her side. Her bronze skin was misty with sweat, even as the clouds churned cold winds onto the fortress. They were like proud conductors of an orchestra as they stood in the middle of the chaos they cultivated. Catalina's eyes were narrowed in on her like a wolf waiting for its prey to make a move.

"Ready when you are!" Estera shouted over the purr of the gatling guns.

Smirking, her mother shifted her eyes towards Elliot in a sideways glance. He patted her waist with a snigger of his own and nodded at Estera. She watched his mouth form the words, finish her, before stepping back as if giving Catalina space to do her worst. The woman sauntered forward, her hips swaying like she had all the time in the world to standoff with her daughter. As if it was a game.

"Andale, mija, show me what you got." Catalina beckoned, teasingly.

When Estera drew her sword, she did so without the weight of heavy leather protecting her. Unlike her mother who was in head to toe armor with her signature long dark hair cascading over one shoulder. Debris swirled at her mother's feet, and she drew an imaginary line with the tip of her steel-toe boot.

"Cuando cruses, te mato." She curled a crooked finger as invitation.

"Oh, it won't be me who dies when I cross your little line." Estera spat, the glop landing between their feet.

Around them, citizens fought in a blur against warriors with swirls of electricity exiting their rifles as smoke veiled the streets. Catalina reached for the double swords on her back, but Estera wasn't going to let her have the first strike. She charged and swung, meeting her mother's sabers as they formed a cross, blocking her blade. Sparks skipped off the edge when she slid it out and tried to counter the strike. Trapped in the pinch of her mother's swords, their eyes met. The love she once saw during her fiftieth fight, was replaced by streaks of crimson paint that matched the resentment in her mother's irises. Estera spun out of the way and reached for the dagger on her hip. With a flick of the wrist, the blade slid out, and she held it parallel to her sword.

"Andale!" She nodded at her mother. "I want to see what the Great Catalina Montenegro is all about."

Without hesitation, the woman struck, and with both swords in hand, she kept the swipes coming. Estera jumped back, dodging each hiss as the steel whipped through the air. She raised her sword and countered the blows, but Catalina had been her teacher after all and could telegraph every move she was going to make. Each time Estera spun away, her mother slid back in front of her without a single strand of hair out of place. She was perfect, but not indestructible. With her sword locked between Catalina's blades, she had to think quickly. Using the dagger in her other hand, she arced it towards the woman who birthed her and sliced across her cheek. Catalina reeled back with fingers going to the gash.