Calendre sloshed from the water and up onto the cobblestone. Il Lupo sucked in a breath of air as he tried to pull himself out, and when his pupil noticed his pain, she moved to help him. He grudgingly accepted her offer. Once they were both on land, they collapsed in a slightly tangled mess of limbs for only a moment before Il Lupo let his head fall to the side, his nearly black hair, which was choppy from being cut with a dagger, falling across his forehead. He looked at Calendre with exasperation.
"You're a mad woman," he muttered. His pupil smirked at him before pulling herself to her feet and helping him stand. She circled an arm around Il Lupo's waist and he draped an arm over her shoulders before they started the long, agonizing walk home where Calendre would take care of his wound. He glanced at her, frowning. Why wasn't he angry? He was The Prowler. The wolf. He should be furious at the donna pazza, but for some unknown reason, he couldn't muster the animal instincts that usually showed themselves even when they were unwanted. Not that he wanted to be angry at her; he would never forgive himself if he were to instill that same terror in her as he saw in others' eyes when he made his presence known. The fear that he'd seen in her eyes only a year ago. The fear that he'd savoured.
Calendre looked at him curiously and he realized he'd been staring at her. Not that he particularly cared. He looked into her deep olive eyes. Those eyes were what drew him to her, what made him so deeply affectionate. There was intelligence, mischief, and curiosity; something he didn't often see in the wanton noble women he usually encountered. However, there was a spark of something else. Mystery. It was as though she always had something she wasn't telling you. Though the wolf had learned to read her quite well because of her missing voice, but there was still that secret that she always held. Even if she could scream to the world her every thought, there would forever be a secret hidden deep in her. An answer that he knew, deep down, he would never have.
Then, his eyes traveled down to the scar. When she understood what he was looking at, she turned away and focused on her steps, swallowing in her discomfort. He was told she was to be punished at his and The Doctor's hands. At the time, he had no connection to her. In his mind, she was simply a young thief that had somehow wronged his superiors. In fact, Cesare had given her to them as a sadistic reward. He told them to make sure she never spoke again. Truly, it was The Doctor's genius idea to rip out her vocal cords, and Il Lupo had only pinned her down and laughed cruelly in her face, using his dagger to carve his mark into her skin, as she screeched her fury and lashed around beneath him. The only thing he had questioned at the time, and did so with a chuckle, was what a 19 year old girl could have possibly done to a group so prominent as the Templars. Now that he was thinking over the whole thing, he realized she'd never actually told him what she'd done.
He pondered over this for a few more moments before he recognized how close they were to the inn they were staying at. The two templars were in Venice because Il Lupo had some business to attend to, and he despised being away from Calendre so he excused her presence as a necessity to continue her training. She was no longer the burden or punishment she was meant to be. That, and they both got antsy without the physical contact they had become addicted to. They certainly didn't get it from anyone else. It also made him nervous not to have her by his side, though he would never admit it aloud. Besides, he knew she was perfectly capable most of the time. He guessed that it was only his acute, protective instincts towards the girl, but that didn't mean he could push away the angst.
Calendre pushed open the heavy door with a little huff, as she was supporting Il Lupo as well, and as soon as the plump, little woman running the inn saw the two of them, she let out a little squall and tottered over. Il Lupo snarled at the woman and sent her a vicious glare, and at that, Calendre hissed quietly at the wolf, thumped him in the side, then smiled apologetically at the now huffy woman. Calendre continued to drag the fuming, injured wolf down the hall to their shared room. As soon as they entered, she gently eased him into the nearest chair, the wolf's face contorting with pain as she did so. He was starting to feel a bit tired and dizzy, likely from the blood loss he hadn't taken full notice of before. Immediately, Calendre began a search for some medical supplies.
"That ignorant stronza dares think I would need her assistance," Il Lupo muttered as he adjusted himself in his spot, cringing at his knee. Calendre stopped her search and pirouetted to face The Prowler. She gripped his chin and forced him to look at her.
"Do not speak of that kind woman in that way," she mouthed silently and slowly at him. The wolf only looked at her in shock. She had never stood up to him in such a confrontational way. Then he swallowed when he recognized the look in her eyes. That had been a threat. She was getting bolder everyday. He couldn't help it when a smirk ghosted across his lips as she turned away. The little templar continued to gather a few more things before flitting back to Il Lupo and kneeling down in front of him to set to work. She tenderly placed a hand on the underside of his thigh to provide support as her other hand moved softly under his calf, and she gently lifted his leg to rest on her own so she could have better access to the wound. Even though the movement sent white pain rocking through his system, he still shuddered a little at that lovely touch he had fallen in love with.
Calendre carefully pulled the fabric of his trousers away from the wrecked skin and scrutinized the wound. It looked like Lupo had managed to work the knife part way out of the muscle from the swimming and walking. She felt a pang of guilt. It was sticking out, and although that was a good thing and she knew it would come out fairly easily, it still looked beastly and she could see it in The Prowler's nauseated expression. Red life was oozing from around the knife and the skin around it was beginning to turn slightly purple. She sent him an apologetic glance before taking a deep, nervous breath, gripping it with three fingers, and ripping it out. A howl ripped from the wolf's lips, his face blanched, and his grip on the arm of the chair tightened to the point at which Calendre thought he might break the innocent piece of furniture. After he got a hold of himself, he shot his apprentice a murderous glare, gasping a little erratically.
"Che minchia, Calendre!" He rasped at her. She frowned at him with penitent eyes, and his glare softened. "A little warning next time." She nodded, and her hand dipped to retrieve a flask she'd gathered with the rest of the supplies. Il Lupo gratefully accepted it and, tilting his head back, took a long swig. The girl kneeling in front of him found her eyes wandering to the way his throat moved as he swallowed. She snapped out of the strange trance when he let the flask fall away from his lips with a groan. She then plucked up a wet cloth and began dabbing away at the wound gingerly, feeling him tense beneath her hand as she did so. He didn't offer any kind of objection. He just kept his head rested back, his chest falling and rising rhythmically.
As soon as she got most of the excess blood wiped away, she threaded a needle, and began the meticulous process of closing the wound. She gently held his leg just underneath the wound, her head bowed enough to see exactly what she was doing, and began carefully stitching the skin together. When she was done, she wrapped his thigh up, and let out a little sigh as she helped him up from the chair so they could stagger over to a more comfortable spot on the bed. After Il Lupo slowly lowered himself down onto the mattress with a quiet grunt, he reached up and pulled his apprentice down. She was cautious of his leg as she curled up next to him and nuzzled into his warm neck. With a loving smile, she realized her wolf had fallen asleep as soon as she'd curled up and the softest of snores was breaching his lips. Soon, in complete bliss, she followed right behind him into the world of dreams. Tomorrow she would worry about breakfast, their trip home, and Il Lupo's wound. Tonight she would take shelter from concern in The Prowler's arms and together they could savour happy loneliness.
