The dark brown wolf wrangles the long bones together and tries to conceal them in the already overflowing bathroom closet. He finally manages to latch the door after fighting a near avalanche for several minutes. He sighs and slides to the floor with his back to the door. “Geez,” he complains. “That was almost not worth the effort. But at least that’s done now.”

  He walks into the adjoining bedroom, its walls adorned with a cheap paneling that encloses a smell of antique furniture. He stops at the quilt laden bed to take the old woman’s clothes and begins putting them on. One leg goes into the pair of sleeping pants, which leads to a series of hops as he tries to get the other leg in. It’s a fierce struggle, but once it’s done, a look over his shoulder confirms the waistband is pinning his tail.

  He shakes his head and rolls back on the bed to kick them off, assuming a pose like a cat batting at a ball of yarn as all four of his paws become involved. With the boss fight finally over, he tosses the pants over the headboard. The gown goes on with far less effort and he looks around to see his tail making the back ride up. “Meh, close enough.”

  He walks back into the bathroom, a large iron tub to one side and a single sink vanity to the other. A grimace crosses his face as he smacks his lips and flicks his tongue. Ugh, he groans internally. I hate that overripe taste of eating the elderly. It’s almost like having a banana that hasn’t been yellow for a few days.

  He squares on the mirror while placing a sleeping cap on his head. Not bad, not bad, he thinks, nodding to himself. I’ll definitely get you this time, Little Red. He pauses, closes his eyes, and lays his ears flat as he imagines finally getting to eat Little Red Riding Hood. Looking back at the mirror, he narrows his eyes at his reflection. “I just need you to get close enough. This time, I’ll devour you for sure.”

  He nods to himself as he looks over the elderly woman’s clothes. His paws have elongated fingers with opposable thumbs and brushes them down the front of the gown as he thinks back to his previous encounters with the red-hooded girl. His fist would almost close around her cloak or he would almost snare her in a bear hug, but it was only ever almost. She always seemed to whisk away at the last second.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  You’re always so damn fast. It makes no sense. Why couldn’t I ever catch you? His lip curls into a snarl as he remembers all the near misses. Am I getting slower? He shakes his head and massages the sides of his face with his palms. No, no, it was just bad luck, but luck’s not going to save her today. He nods sagely at his own logic.

  His ear twitches, and he focuses his attention in a direction. Footsteps. She’s getting close. He frantically looks about, making sure everything in the bathroom is in order. Bloody hand prints mar the sink, the closet door, the door frame into the bathroom, along with several spatters and smears along the floor leading into the bathtub and closet. He turns to the sink and uses his elbow to wipe away a solitary drop of blood before shaking his head. “Shit. There’s no time.”

  He heads back into the bedroom, pulling the bathroom door closed behind him. He turns, finding more blood along the wooden slat floors and spattered on the beige curtains across the room. His gaze turns up to see a spray on the ceiling. That was some crazy high blood pressure. She probably should have seen a doctor about that. He shakes his head, trying to focus again.

  He bounds across the room and yanks the curtains closed before doubling back. The light switch catches his attention, causing him to stop and stare. He breaks into a run as he frantically looks for the circuit breakers. They aren’t in the kitchen, the extra bedroom, the master bedroom or either bathroom. His panic morphs into frustration until he sees the folding doors beside the kitchen. He pulls them open to see the breaker box mounted beside a washer and dryer.

  The wolf frantically rushes back to the bedroom but notices the front door ajar and a red-cloaked silhouette marching up the driveway. He leaves it and dashes back into the bedroom to leap into bed.

  The front door screeches as it swings the rest of the way open. The sound of a light switch toggling pierces the quiet of the dark cabin. “Grandma,” the girl calls out. “I brought you that bread and wine.”

  The wolf pulls the covers to his mouth to conceal a toothy grin. The bedroom door finally swings open and the girl steps through.