Point of View

Once upon a time there was a wolf that lived in a forest. He didn't belong to any pack. Oh, he had for a while, but he had grown tired of always being told what to do by the alpha wolf.

When the pack had moved south for the winter, the wolf, whose name was Harry, decided to stay behind.

Now Harry was lazy, and hunting took a lot of energy. 

He knew there was a little old lady who lived in the wood. Many times, she threw out perfectly good food, which he made sure never went to waste.

Today, he was hot footing it over to the old lady's cottage, going from tree to tree rather than use the path. He heard footsteps and a little girl singing, "To Grandma's house, I go, I go."

He recognized as the old lady's granddaughter because she was wearing the red cloak and hood, he'd seen the grandmother making when he peeked through her window last fall. The kid stumbled a couple of times over sticks. Well, she didn't have her glasses on. 

Or maybe she was wearing contact lenses. Nope, she was squinting. Definitely no contacts.

The little girl was carrying a basket. Harry's excellent nose could pick up the smell of chicken coming from the basket and his mouth watered. He had nothing on Pavlov's experiment.

Rushing ahead to the old lady's cottage, he opened the old lady's door. Stupid women, she should keep it locked. 

The old lady was asleep in bed, and it only took a minute to wrap her in her blanket, tie her up with a rope he found in the top kitchen drawer along with some duct tape for the old lady's mouth.

"I ain't gonna hurt you, Grandma," he said. Poor woman. Her eyes were wide with fear. All he wanted was the chicken and he'd be outta there.

Quickly he put on the old lady's night cap, wrapped a shawl around his furry shoulders and hopped under the duvet just as the little girl came in.

"I brought your lunch, Grandma," she said.

The wolf made his voice very, very soft. "How sweet, Lambchen, I feel so lousy with this sore throat." He hoped that would explain why he didn't sound like her grandmother.

The little girl squinted "Oh, Grandma, what big ears you have," she said. 

Damn, he should have tucked them under the night cap. "Better to hear you with, Lambchen."

"And Granma, what big teeth you have,"

"The better to eat the chicken with," Harry said. He jumped out of bed and grabbed the basket.

The kid came closer and squinted. "You're not my Grandma," she started to scream.

Just then two hunters, who had heard the scream, came through the door.

"Oh, shit! Hunters," Harry thought.

As he hightailed it out of the cottage a bullet grazed his shoulder. 

Boy did it burn.

Back in the cave, he dressed his wound, lay on the couch and watched the nightly news. 

The lead story was about a little girl who was fighting off a wolf as she had taken food to her grandmother. The older woman was found unhurt in the closet.

"Of course, she was," the wolf said to the TV. "I didn't want to hurt her. I just wanted the chicken."

He was still hungry as he listened to the hunters brag how they shot the wolf who ran off. "I'm sure he will die from his wounds."

"Wound, dummy, and I'm going to be fine." All he wanted to do now was sleep. Tomorrow he would go scavenging again.