The Lupine Defence

It’s another human saying that unfortunately muddies the reputation of all of my kind.

Keeping the wolf from the door.

Though I obviously don’t care for it, I do tend to live by it myself. I keep well away from them. The forest is my fiefdom, and though the town of Grasberg, on its edge, is quite modest in population, there are always a few every year who see fit to risk the forest trail as a short-cut to Bremen. And when they do, they know they are under my rules. That is fair enough, I think.

They walk fast and furtively, scanning each side of the track from under lowered head. Of course, those travelling the other way, the Bremen city folk, know little – and care less – about the quaint local superstitions. Their pace is slower, more relaxed, or, in many cases, slackened by tiredness. For the Grasberg local, it is a brave fool who listens to tiredness on this part of the route. Their fear is, of course, well founded. I do have a reputation, I’ll admit.

I know that, in the light of this it is perhaps a difficult thing to do, but I am asking you to see me as rather the victim of this whole unfortunate episode.

So I’m not denying I met this little girl, no. And I had not eaten that morning, as would be my preference (though I don’t have a breakfast routine, as you will appreciate nothing is routine in the wild). I was taking a ramble along one of my routes, a trail which runs alongside, but slightly above, the human track. As a wolf, I am cursed with sensory mechanics which give me a decided advantage over humans, and I received her scent long before I saw her, or she saw me. A distinct musk of lavender – with a note of rosemary. Warm blood filled my snout and, as she approached, my ears vibrated with the rolling flutter of her heart, quickening in her chest – she must have been told about me. She was wearing a hooded tunic of deep red, which reached just below her stockinged knees. I remember the effect of the red was quite striking, moving against the deep autumnal browns which had started to take hold of the forest.

I decided to show myself, and padded lightly down the slope, to where I stood in her path, maybe thirty paces away. She might have been twelve or thirteen, with platted blond hair that was bunched under her hood. She had a pale face, which was flushing red now around ruby lips.

My own mouth had started to water. Things would usually start – and finish – at this point.

“I am short sighted, but I can plainly see that you are a wolf,” she said, still approaching, albeit at a slowing pace.

This threw me a little... normally, any humans I meet have either shown me their heels at this stage, or become frozen to the spot, unable to move, or think. Was it her poor vision that brought her this close, or remarkable bravery?

“I will not deny it,” I replied, “nor is it something I have ever tried to hide from anyone – I have left most I have met in no doubt as to what I am.”

“You’re trying to frighten me?” she asked. I detected a small note of defiance in her tone.

“No, I said, “I am just saying the way it is.”

She was no more than ten paces away from me now. I must admit, my curiosity was now somewhat piqued by this creature. She was looking up at me, meeting my stare. I let my gaze fall, down her arm, to the basket she was carrying. Its contents were covered by an embroidered handkerchief, tucked in at the sides.

“For me?” I asked – playfully – I thought.

“Perhaps.”

I was now fighting the strong urge to swat her to the ground and consume her. I wondered if she saw this small agony in my eyes.

I kept it light: “Oh? And what must I do to earn this mysterious prize?”

She looked to the ground, and brushed the leaves with her foot.

“I need you to visit my Grandmother,” she said.