What Is A Wolf With Universe Intelligence?

As if Theodore wasn't aggravated enough, April rain showered his harried fur. In petty retaliation, he shook fiercely and soaked Hayden. The apprentice was too thrilled to perceive it. That only added to the wolf's bitterness.
“What makes men superior to animals? Why wouldn't it be the other way around? Suppose that I'm a wolf with universe intelligence instead of human?”, Theodore said snotty, aiming to provoke Hayden.
It sparked a quarrel, just as he pleased. The apprentice's premise was that men were dominant because they can communicate with each other, and that the wolf's ability to talk was what made him stand out from the rest of his kind.
“Wolves howl, roosters cock–a–doodle–doo, badgers churr and so on. There's also posture and smell.
ONE!”, he thundered.
“But you're not taking the A.D. years into account, when multiple languages...”
“Tosh!”, Theodore interrupted him. “We all evolved since then. Who's to say we haven't excelled to a level beyond yours?”
“Humans used pantomime to break the language barrier.”, Hayden continued, as if nothing was said in between.
“Gesturing is easier when you have extremities you don't need for balance. What sign language should we use? If a turtle moves six feet in an hour it means yes, and if it passes five feet and eight inches it's saying no?”, the wolf said vehemently.
“You mock, but you're...”, Hayden began, but his interlocutor evaporated.
A faint growl was coming from inside a hole which used to be concealed with branches. Theodore stepped on a tad too angrily, and ended up in a tunnel. The sap was dripping from the ground. It was like being laced with honey. He could feel half a dozen tentacles crawling eerily on his back. He shook the spider off (at least he hoped it was only a spider), but even more of them were creeping around.
There was a man tangled in a tree root. It looked like an oak crucified him. He seemed disoriented, barely clinging to life. The moisture from the soil sprouted fungi on his
“What are you?”, Theodore asked indifferently, yanking a thorn out of his paw.
“Aaarchitect.”, he said mournfully.
“Oh! Were you put in here on purpose?”, the wolf said critically.
“Grab on.”, Hayden's voice echoed in the hole.
The apprentice was lowering down his jacket. The wolf snatched a sleeve with his teeth. He growled to sign he was ready to be hoisted. Hayden pulled up, and the fabric tore in two as easily as a ninety pound weight would snap a twig.
“Help.”, Architect gasped again, which rubbed Theodore the wrong way.
“There is an algorithm...”, Hayden said helpfully, but zoned out trying to think of it.
Theodore twisted and turned. Branches strewn. The tunnel was narrow and steep. When he stood on his hind legs, he was about three feet too short. The path was slippery from the rain. Mud clogged his paws, making it even harder to grip something. Each time he extended upwards, he tumbled back in.
“It was about estimating the distance of... Never mind.”, the apprentice's contribution was as useful as ever.
Hayden crouched down and started digging with his hands. He scooped up clumps of dirt to widen the hole. At his pace, Theodore's faith would be death by boredom. A part from that insignificant factor, it was the most sensible thing he did (without Bertram's direct