The Wolf.

The sky was bright with purples, reds, and pinks as the sun sank below the tree line. But the sky above was a sickly gray, with clouds heavy with rain, and it was unusually chilly. Still, this was my favorite time of year, when the trees are beautiful shades of yellow, orange, and red.

I gathered firewood from the stockpile beside my door and went insidemy small cottage. I made a fire in the hearth and prepared a simple dinner. The wind whistled outside, making the trees sway and the leaves dance through the air as the approaching storm drew closer. I could see the lights of the nearby town from my kitchen window.

I loved my grandparents' cottage and missed them dearly, but sometimes I wished they had lived closer to town. Growing up with my grandparents after my parents passed away was one of the best things that could have happened to me in those circumstances. Even though my grandpa traveled a lot, I learned so much from my grandma, like which plants could heal and which could harm, how to make scrumptious cookies, and the comfort of her warm snuggles.

Lately, though, my grandpa's bedtime stories had been on my mind, especially one about a wolf and how he would save other wolves from the huntsman.

I hung the pot of stew over the fire, added another log to the hearth, and settled into the plush armchair that had once belonged to my grandma.

I thought about her and how much she had loved my grandpa. I remembered how sad and lonely she had been whenever he failed to return from one of his many trips.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and rain began to fall. The fire filled the cottage with warmth and the comforting crackle of burning wood.

I remembered one of Grandpa's bedtime stories, the one about a young boy turning into a puppy and how a hunter tried to kill him. The older wolf saved the pup but still spared the hunter. Grandpa had told the story to Grandma and me on a night much like this one, with rain beating against the windows and the wind howling through the trees.

"Some things in this world aren't what they seem, darling girl," he had whispered as Grandma brushed a strand of hair from my face. "And sometimes, the things we fear most are the very things protecting us."

A loud banging noise startled me awake.

Taking a moment to gather myself, I turned toward the noise. The storm was now raging outside. The shutters on the kitchen window were slamming against the side of the house. I quickly shut and locked them.

I hurried back to the fire when I noticed that my stew was bubbling over the pot and spilling into the flames. I pulled it away from the heat and carried it to the table.

I went to the door to make sure it was locked and wouldn't blow open in the wind. I took a quick look outside just as thunder cracked overhead and lightning streaked across the sky, casting eerie shadows among the trees.

And... was that a wolf?

I quickly stepped back inside, locked the door, and made my way around the cottage, latching every window securely.

I gathered a bowl and some utensils for dinner. All the while, I strained to listen over the storm for any sound coming from outside the house.

I filled my bowl, cut a slice of bread, and sat down to eat. I couldn't stop wondering whether I had actually seen a wolf. I considered taking a knife with me when I went into town tomorrow, assuming the storm let up.

Or had I simply imagined it? Could it have been a trick of the lighting?

As I was just finishing my dinner, I thought I heard a faint noise outside the door. I quickly ran to the door and looked through the built-in peephole, but saw nothing. Just as I was about to look away, lightning flashed, and sitting in my yard was a giant wolf staring back at me.

Gasping, I quickly shut the peephole and backed away from the door. I took the knife from the table and slipped it into my apron pocket.

I quietly cleaned the dirty dishes in the sink and sat down in front of the fire, facing the door. Pulling the knife from my pocket, I looked at it and huffed a laugh.

"What could you do to a thing that size?"

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because, when I woke up, the sun was shining through the cracks in the closed shutters, and I could hear birds singing.

Blinking to clear the sleep from my eyes, I stood and stretched, the knife falling from my lap. Laughing at myself, I picked it up and went to the door. I looked through the peephole, but there was nothing there.

I slowly opened the door just enough to poke my head out and take a better look. There was nothing to be seen but the door did bump into something. Peeking around it, I saw a pile of twigs and pine cones.

Stepping outside, I knelt down to pick one up.

"Where did you come from?"

I picked up a few more, smiling as I did so. I placed the twigs and pine cones on top of the firewood beside the door and looked around one more time before going back inside.

I gathered what I needed for market day in town. Before leaving, I made sure everything was locked behind me. This morning was a stark contrast to the night before. The bright, warm sun felt wonderful against my skin, and the colorful trees stood out beautifully against the bright blue sky.

The town was all abuzz when I arrived. People stood in small groups along the main street, speaking in hushed voices.

"Did you hear? Someone saw a wolf roaming the woods," one woman said.

"The mayor is sending for the huntsman," another replied. "A wolf that size is dangerous."

I pretended to examine the goods outside a nearby shop while I listened.

A wolf that size? No kidding. Did someone else see the creature outside my house last night?

I glanced toward the trees beyond the village. In the daylight, they looked peaceful enough, their golden leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Yet I couldn't forget those enormous eyes staring back at me through the darkness.

If that wolf was so dangerous, why had it simply sat in my yard and watched me?

And, more importantly, why had it left me alone?

On my walk home, everything seemed peaceful, but about halfway home, I heard the leaves rustling behind me.

I stopped and turned around.

But I saw nothing.

Everything was quiet, even the birds, and the path behind me was empty. I waited a moment longer but heard nothing.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me.

I quickened my pace, eager to reach the safety of my cottage.

When I finally arrived, I noticed that the pine cones I'd left beside the door that morning were gone. Instead, they sat on the windowsill, carefully crafted into little dogs.

I stared at them, my uneasiness momentarily forgotten. I remembered those little figures.

My grandparents and I used to make them together when I was younger. My grandpa had always been particularly good at making little dogs.

I gently picked one up and looked around. A memory came rushing back to me.

"You can play with these while I'm gone, darling girl," Grandpa had told me once as we sat together making them. "That way, you can think of me whenever you miss me."

I turned the little pine-cone dog over in my hands, tracing one of its twig legs with my finger.

For a moment, I was a little girl again, sitting beside him with a lap full of pine cones and a head full of stories about the wolves. But the memory left me with a question that made my happiness fade.

Who made these? And how had they known?

I carried the little pine cone dogs inside and set them on the table. Then I started putting things away, but I couldn't let go of the thought of who had made the little figures.

I had spent longer in town than I expected, what with all the talk about the wolf. I opened the windows and the upper half of the door, then set to work preparing the food to be stored. As I worked, I heard something outside. Slowly moving to the side of the door, I peeked around the frame. All I saw was a mother deer and her babies running toward the trees.

Releasing the tension I'd been holding with a heavy sigh, I returned to work. A few hours later, everything was done and put away. I made myself a cup of tea and built a small fire for the evening.

Compared to the night before, this was a beautiful autumn evening, warm with a cool breeze and a bright full moon. I decided to sit out on the small porch and enjoy the beautiful night.

I hadn't been outside long when I saw not one, but two large wolves walking along the edge of the fields. Their silhouettes looked enormous from where I sat, as if I could ride on their backs.

I sat frozen, my cup of tea in my hands, simply staring. Then they stopped and turned to look at me. As I sat there, frozen in place, something inside me told me I didn't need to fear these wolves.

Grandpa's words came back to me. Sometimes, what we fear is what is protecting us.

A cracking sound came from somewhere behind me, and both wolves lifted their heads at the same time, looking past my home. I turned, thinking I would see something, and nearly smacked my face into the wall. Looking back at the wolves, I said, "Wow, good hearing."

They turned their attention back to me. Gulping, I added, "Oh, sorry."

I slowly stood and made my way into the house. I took one last look through the door. I noticed that the wolves had come closer than they had the night before.

"If you're going to eat me, just do it," I called. "If not, you should stay as far from town as possible. They're watching for you."

The wolf with light gray fur snorted and shook his head, while the other, a black wolf, tilted his head at me.

With one last look, I shut and locked the door.

The next morning, I woke feeling well-rested, better than I had in a long time.

I made my way to the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks.

Sleeping in my grandmother's chair was my grandfather.

He looked slightly older than I remembered him. My thoughts raced from one thing to another.

Am I dead? Did the wolves actually eat me? Am I dreaming? Where has he been? Why was he gone so long? How is he still alive?

My breathing quickened, and I felt shaky. I slowly took a few steps toward him when his eyes suddenly opened.

He stared at me with the same eyes as the wolf that had sat outside my door.

"Hello, darling girl. I'm sorry I've been gone so long, but—"

"Edward, are you...?" I looked up at the new voice coming from the front door.

"Who are you?" I asked as my grandpa stood and started to come over to me. I took a step back.

"How?" I asked, my voice shaking as I looked at him.

"Sophie, this is Killian. He has been helping me while I've been on my travels. If we could all sit down together, I will explain."

I looked from my grandpa to Killian. He nodded his head.

"Hello, Miss Sophie. I've heard a lot about you."

I stood there, staring dumbfounded, my vision blurred, and everything went dark.

When I came to, I was sitting in my grandmother's chair, with my grandpa in front of me checking my pulse and Killian standing behind him.

Looking back at my grandpa, I gently touched his face.

"You're really here. You're home. But how?"

He smiled and, before anything else could happen, pulled me into his arms and held me for a long moment.

After a few tears and another brief introduction to Killian, we found ourselves sitting around the small kitchen table, warm tea in hand.

My grandpa sighed heavily and began his tale.

"Ah, where to begin? Many years ago, when I was a small child, that's when the transformations started to happen."

"Transformations?"

He chuckled softly. "Still interrupting, I see."

I grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

He smiled and continued. "Do you remember the stories I would tell you when you were little about the wolves and the huntsman?"

He said this as he picked up one of the pine-cone dogs, turning it over in his hand.

"They're all true, and I am that wolf."

I watched him play with the pine-cone dog as he talked.

"You put those outside, didn't you?"

"Who else?" He smiled.

"You really think I'm going to believe you're a wolf? That's your excuse for always being gone, and why you weren't here when Grandma passed. She watched for you every day!"

Tears came down my cheeks, and my voice shook. I was so angry I didn't want him near me, but I was also so happy he was home that I didn't want him to let go.

He was crying now, too.

"I loved your grandmother so much. I still do. We both knew there would be consequences to us being together, but we accepted them."

"But why were you gone so long? And why don't you look older? And you can't really be a wolf. So, are you telling me you're the wolf that was outside last night?"

I stopped and looked at him. I looked him in the eyes, seeing the same blue eyes as those of the giant gray wolf that had watched me last night.

I spun around and looked Killian up and down. His eyes matched those of the black wolf that had sat outside, too.

"What are you two?"

"Sophie, slow down, girl." My grandpa's voice pulled me back and helped me focus. "I will try to explain everything in due time."

"I want to see. Show me. Turn. Prove it."

My grandpa stood and took a deep breath.

"Not in here! I won't have you wrecking the house."

My grandpa laughed, and through his laughter, he said, "You sound like your grandmother."

When we were all outside, far from the house, my grandpa turned into the giant gray wolf and stood in front of me, his nose in my face. He was so tall.

"You've shown me this before, haven't you? When I was little..." I whispered.

I rubbed my hand against his snout as he leaned into it, as if to say yes.

I turned to Killian, and he turned into a massive black wolf, slightly taller than Grandpa. I slowly walked toward him, and my grandpa nudged me in the back with his snout, encouraging me to go closer.

I reached up and stroked his snout. He made a rumbling noise.

I huffed a laugh and stepped back. After they turned back into human form, we sat outside while my grandpa continued to tell me what happened.

He explained how my father was a wolf, too, and how the huntsman had killed him and my mother because he thought they had killed his wife.

He went on to explain that he took it upon himself to help and warn other wolves. He also said that his coming back to see us was starting to put us in danger from the huntsman, so he had to stay away. Along the way, he met Killian, and Killian joined him to help. He only came back now because he knew the huntsman had found out about my grandma and me and was coming for more revenge.

I sat there quietly, trying to absorb everything, my head spinning.

"You said the huntsman is coming, and if that was before the mayor sent for him, how much time do you think we have?"

"I'm not sure."

Through all of this, Killian had just sat and listened and watched.

"And what are your thoughts on all this?" I asked.

He looked at me and smiled. It was a beautiful smile.

"I think what your grandpa had to do was terrible, yet necessary. And yet, if I had a love like he did, I don't know if I'd choose the same."

Something whizzed through the air and embedded itself in the ground beside me. All three of us turned to look and saw that it was an arrow.

My grandpa yelled, "Go! Quick, take her!"

We all sprang up, and Killian grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I reached for my grandpa, yelling, "No!"

He grabbed my face, said he was sorry for everything. Sorry that he couldn't explain more and that he loved me, and kissed my forehead. He looked at Killian.

"Protect her."

"With my life," Killian replied.

We ran as fast as we could, with Killian pulling me most of the way. Once we were far enough away, he transformed into his wolf form and knelt so I could climb onto his back. As I scrambled onto him, I glanced behind us and froze. The villagers were following a frightening-looking man armed with bows and guns. The huntsman.

As he began to run, I saw thick smoke rising from where my home stood. I heard gunshots. I started to cry into his fur and thought to myself, Who are the real monsters?