Love Against All Odds

Piper - Lycaon

"Wolves," Piper whispered, her voice tight. "They're close."

Jason instantly raised his sword. Leo and Coach Hedge followed, quickly getting to their feet. Piper tried to stand, but dizziness hit her, and dark spots clouded her vision.

"Stay down," Jason ordered his tone firm. "We'll handle this."

Piper clenched her jaw, frustration boiling inside her. She despised feeling powerless. First, her ankle, now hypothermia. She wanted to be up, dagger-ready, fighting alongside them. But before she could move, a pair of glowing red eyes caught her eye—just outside the firelight, at the cave's entrance.

Alright, she admitted to herself. Maybe I do need some protection.

More wolves crept into the light—massive black creatures, their fur matted with snow and ice, each bigger than a Great Dane. Their sharp fangs gleamed, and their eyes shone with an unsettling intelligence. The leader, nearly the size of a horse, stalked forward, his mouth stained with fresh blood.

Piper's hand instinctively went to her dagger, pulling it free.

Jason stepped forward and muttered something in Latin.

Piper doubted speaking a dead language would scare off wolves, but to her surprise, the alpha wolf's lip curled, and his hackles rose. One of the others tried to advance, but the alpha snapped at him. In moments, the entire pack retreated into the shadows.

Leo, still shaking, looked at Jason, his hammer trembling in his grip. "Dude, I need to learn Latin. What did you say?"

Hedge swore under his breath. "Whatever it was, it's not going to last. Look."

The wolves were back, though the alpha wasn't with them this time. They circled the cave entrance, forming a loose semicircle, blocking any escape.

Coach Hedge raised his club. "Alright, here's the plan. I take them all down; you three get out."

"Coach, they'll tear you apart," Piper warned.

"I've got this."

Just then, Piper saw a figure emerge from the blizzard, walking straight through the pack.

"Stick together," Jason said, his voice calm but tense. "Wolves respect a pack. And Coach, no heroics. We're not leaving anyone behind."

A lump formed in Piper's throat. She was the weak link here, and the wolves knew it. They could smell her fear; she might as well have been wearing a sign that said 'easy prey.'

The wolves parted, allowing the man to step into the firelight. His hair was greasy, tangled like soot-stained straw, and a crown made of finger bones sat atop his head. His ragged fur cloak—a patchwork of wolf, rabbit, and other animals Piper couldn't name—reeked of decay, like it had never been properly cured. His wiry, athletic build moved with a hunter's grace, but his face made Piper's skin crawl. His pale, gaunt features were stretched tight over his skull, his teeth sharpened into jagged fangs. His glowing red eyes locked onto Jason, brimming with pure hatred.

"Ecce," the man growled, "filii Romani."

"Speak English, wolf-man!" Hedge shouted back.

The wolfman's lips curled into a snarl. "Tell your faun to hold his tongue, son of Rome, or he'll be my first meal."

Piper's mind flashed to a fact she knew: "faun" was the Roman term for "satyr." It's not super helpful at the moment. What she needed was to remember who this guy was from Greek mythology—and, more importantly, how to beat him.

The wolfman's gaze swept over their group, his nostrils flaring as if sizing them up. "So it's true," he said, almost to himself. "A daughter of Aphrodite. A son of Hephaestus. A faun. And a child of Rome, of Lord Jupiter himself. All together without tearing each other apart. Fascinating."