Wolf Girl

Beware of the wolf who hunts unexpecting souls. It's pelt rugged, steely grey, pupil-slit eyes greedily drinking in the night; glimlet bright against the cloaking shadows as it prowls and stalks; big teeth bared against the encroachin daylight.

As this predator stalks, it throws it's head back and howls, its frightening snarl bathed in the nurturing glow of moonlight, trees bent and arched, holding it in an unruly trap, branches reaching, for the girl who strays from the path, who holds the basket and skips alonhg,; unkowing; hood a deep crimson red, cheeks still holding the softness of youth, innocent eyes wide; wide, drinking in her surroundings; fingers playing playning with the loose thread on her velvent sleve.

How the creatures scuttle; how the wind howls as if in premonition, how the cold stars wheel up above, the swirling clouds parting before the full moon that shines like a beacon far, far above, lightlighting the way, but also guiding the wolf's cunning footsteps as it follows the figure through the darkness, hunger a ravening chasm inside it.

The forest swallows them in it's bonyjaws, the branches winding ever so tighter, trees creaking from the force, and the wolf grows tuller, back straightening, fur falling away, unitl it has the face of a man.

Naked from the waist up, eyes keen and avid, a cunning smile on toothsome lips, hunger making him scratch his belly and grunt, eye alighting upon the fuir figure illumainated by the beckoning moon. And then, as the leaves whisper in the trees and some distant bird coos in mournful farewell, he takes off, his strides long and loping, face split in a feral grin.

And all the while the girl hums a sweet tune under her breath, blissfully unaware of the night assassin behind her, her lips curled in a dreamy simle at the night blooming flowers, she has gone to visit her grandma, who lives all alone at the end of the path in these dark and desolate woods. Surrounded by a hovel of crumbling stone and creeping vines. And all the animals and wildlife seem to have kept a slient vigil around it, the blackest of shadows casting it in solemn reverence.

Already, one could smell the foul stench of death.

But despite this, the girl kept hop, hop, hopping, her skin white as snow. Litle breasts peaking thwe front of her blouse. Not so long ago had started her menses; waking up to find red speckling her linens. She was slowly brcoming a woman, and she didn't know quite what to think of it. But there was a certain wisdom to her, a care of iron strength. One had to have strong defenses, after all, if they were raised in such benighted woods as these.

An axe was slung at her waist, and as she moved, it swung to and fro; nthe moonlight catching on the vicious blade. The wolf was close now; she could smell him on the breeze, and as he drew closer she curled her hand around the handle, turning to face him with a wild and dangerous grin. This drew the creature up short, and stood there watching her; head cocked.

The girl pursed her lips, making a show of being impressed. "My what big teeth you have."

The wolf grinned. "All the better to eat you with."

And then he lunged, ready to gobble her up, but she was ready, bringing the axe down and looping the head from the shoulders, watching as it tumbled to the forest floor with a gruesom splat.

And the Little Red Ridding threwherv head back and howled at the moon in open defiance daring any wolf to come near her again. She curled her lip when none answered; the shadows seeming to shrink around her.

What timid sprites wolves could become when met by a strong girl.

And then, humming her sweet song, she skipped all the way to grandma's house; crimson still dripping from the axe, staining the forest floor with the wolf's blood.

Recommend Write a Review Report