A Wolf's tale of the Two-Legged Monster

Hunger was a terrible beast.

It twisted and tore at her insides, drying up what little milk she had left. Two of her pups had already succumbed; the remaining three were but patches of fur covering sharp edges.

They’d be lucky to see another day.

A brisk spring draught breezed through the wolf’s den, bringing with it the scent of iron and smoke—a scent she'd come to fear, after its wearer killed her siblings, as well as her mate, not all that long ago.

Still, it had her mouth watering.

However dangerous, it might very well have been her last chance at a meal. One that would save not only herself, but the pups also.

Leaving them behind in the safety of their nest, she stepped out into the thinning forest, following the scent deep into the strange, desolate terrain that had once been her home.

Where there had been thick, luscious forest, brimming with life, there was but a barren landscape of tree stumps and machinery; deer musk no longer lingered on bark, chattering squirrels nowhere to be heard.

Her grey-brown coat blended seamlessly with the bleak wasteland—it hadn’t taken her long to track down the red-hooded beast that so carelessly sauntered about.

Humming and skipping, swinging its woven basket. It was only a little one for its kind. Dangerous still, but a risk she was willing to take.

Dried grass tickled her chest as she dropped her head level with her shoulders. Silent as night, she stalked closer. One careful paw in front of the other, stomach stirring. All she needed was to snatch the goods from the basket, and she’d be on her way.

Another step.

Closer still.

CRACK

A branch snapped under her paws. Rearing back on her haunches, she pounced into motion. The frantic beating of her heart a deafening rumble in her ears. She lunged—taking the only chance she had.

Then the two-legged creature whirled her way.

She skidded to a halt, gravel biting into her paws.

The little beast's lips stretched wide, revealing teeth. “Hello doggy!”

A bolt of fear speared through her, raising her hackles, and she bared her teeth with a vicious snarl.

Circling it, she wondered: who was prey, who predator?

She hadn’t understood the strange language in which the little red-hooded creature had spoken. Though she couldn’t help notice it lacked the threatening growl her species usually carried.

Little Red lowered the hood. Slowly. As if not to startle her. She watched, hackles stubborn.

Two big, brown eyes stared back at her—eyes that reminded the wolf all too much of the three pairs waiting for her in the den, with their rumbling tummies. “You look hungry. I have some venison jerky. It’s actually meant for gramps. He won’t mind, I think…He’s been quite sad since nanna went to heaven.”

The wolf tilted her head, a low, uncertain wag of her tail. Was the Little Red beast but a pup herself? With her soft edges and rosy cheeks? Not a threat, nor a meal?

Ears pricked, the wolf followed Little Red’s every move, tubby pink paws reaching into the basket. A sniff revealed another scent hiding under that of iron and smoke.

Berries.

And wild sage.

“Here!” Little Red threw something her way and the wolf flinched, instinct telling her to flee. But the mouth-watering scent that had lured her here in the first place, stopped her from doing so. A few steps ahead now lay a dried chunk of meat.

A trap?

She couldn’t tell.

She approached it with slow, apprehensive steps. Never daring to take her attention off Little Red.

The wolf knew better than to trust those who walked upright. Knew to run the other way when faced with one. But her aching gut ushered her forward. Toward the tiny chunk of victory.

She stretched her neck, eyes up, front legs trembling under the strain.

Little Red remained still as ancient oak.

In one quick snap, she snatched the meat and ran off—tucking herself behind some dead shrubbery a few strides away. Meat trapped in her clenched maw, she watched. Waited, for the sharp crack of thunder. The blood.

Much to her surprise, neither came.

Perhaps this one was a friend? Innocent and kind? Not at all like the scar-faced one that carried a third front limb made of metal?

Only when Little Red slid on her hood and walked on, did she dare chewing the meat. It stilled her pleading gut, but wouldn’t be nearly enough. She’d noticed how Little Red had scattered more of it along the path, leaving behind a trail for her to follow.

Should she?

Ahead, charcoal steam littered the sky, rising from the tall grey pillars that towered at the horizon. Much against her better judgement, the wolf left her hiding spot, and followed the trail.

Deep into the territory of the two-legged monsters.

***

Pacing in the shadows across Little Red’s wooden cabin, ears flicking in every direction, the wolf contemplated. She had never dared venturing this far into their lands before. And though she hadn’t stumbled upon any others on her careful track here, she could sense them all around. Their smell thick in the ashen air. Their voices stirring inside the cabin.

The back door had been left ajar, that delicious meaty scent daring her to enter. There, she knew she would find more food than her belly could fit.

Unease pulsed through her. What to do?

She’d come all this way—another glance back reminding her of the little options she had left.

Tail tucked, the wolf stepped inside.

From the ceiling hung a deer, its blood drip-dripping onto the cold stone floor at her paws. Pupils widening, her sole focus became the fresh meal dangling in front of her nose. Her actions were no longer her own. She lunged. Claws sunk into the carcass on a wet squelch, teeth ripping the flesh to ribbons.

Greedy for more, she angled herself for another bite.

Her tail swiped at something. She startled.

Glass exploded across the floor, its shattering sending a spear of terror through her.

She darted for the exit, but paws found no grip on the blood-slicked floor. In her blind panic, she slipped, knocking over another item. Then another. And when she finally found footing and leapt for the door, her clumsy escape had her tumbling against it instead. It latched shut. And trapped her inside.

She pawed and scratched and scraped.

It was futile. The door didn’t budge.

A white flash blinded her.

She blinked, willing her vision to adjust to the sudden brightness in the room. But she didn’t need to see.

The scent alone was enough warning.

There, in another doorway across, stood a staunch two-legged figure. The scar that marked its face was unmistakable.

It was the face that haunted her nightmares—the one she had watched slit her mate's throat. Stripped him from his coat and left his body to rot.

She stood face-to-face with the apex predator.

A cold-blooded killer.

And she would be next.

It stalked closer, backing her into a corner. She bared her teeth. Snarling and snapping her maw.

Then, Little Red appeared from its back.

Had Little Red tricked her? Lured her into a trap? Or was she as terrified of this monster between them?

Red's little paws grabbed hold of the scar-faced killer, shaking his fore-limb. “Gramps, no! She’s a friend! I fed her scraps, she must’ve—”

“Oh foolish child—wolves are monsters. Not friends,” he barked back.

“She’s not a monster, gramps. She was just hungry!”

“They’re vicious, blood-thirsty creatures. Do you hear me? The very same that killed your dear nanna. Now, grab the shotgun! Quick!”

“Gramps, please…”

The wolf watched their interaction, noticing the anger in the scar-faced man. The tension in Little Red's shoulders.

She stilled when they locked eyes.

An unspoken moment passed between the two,

and Red darted for the door—swinging it open with a single swipe. “Go!”

The wolf didn’t wait another moment.

Quicker than her feet could carry, she dashed through the gap, away from the monster in the cabin.

BANG! BANG!

Only ten strides into her escape, that thunder cracked. She dared a look behind—the scar-faced monster pointed the metal limb at her. She leapt. Faster, faster, she had to go faster!

BANG!

White-hot pain exploded in her thigh, and the forest floor rushed up to meet her. The sharp burn seared through fur. Through muscle. A roar of agony tore from her, and she curled to find her back leg, soaked in thick crimson.

The voices grew louder.

They'd kill her just like they'd done her mate. Kill her like they'd done the rest of her pack.

She wouldn't let them. Not yet. Not here.

The wolf forced herself up on a whimper, and fell into a three-legged canter, pain tearing through her flesh.

The thunder had stopped. Or maybe she couldn't hear, her vision wobbling with every stride.

She pushed through. Past the machinery. Past the dizziness. Through the tree-stumped forest.

And into the crevice of her den.

She snuggled up to her young, warming them with what little body heat she had left—their suckling the sweetest sound to her ears.

Cold embraced her.

Eyes grew heavy.

She felt no fear. Not when she knew her pups would live to see another day.

And she slipped into darkness.