Elly smiled in admiration at the progress her dear friend showed over the years. Becoming proficient in English was no simple task for those not exposed to it at a young age, but fortunately, she found him at the early stages of his adolescence. He was very receptive to the idea of learning her language and, fortunately for him, she wanted to try her hand at being a governess. Unfortunately, the environment of her employment was not quite ideal—the forest that was his household had no books, and her student, her dear friend, was a wolf lacking in civility and elegance. But he desperately wanted to be human. Lovely thing.
Entertaining the idea of a wolf learning a language seemed preposterous, but Elly felt a kinship with him from the moment of their first encounter. His amber eyes reflected the envy he had of her. How could a beast like her be so human? he must have thought.
So, the pact was made and she became his teacher, but the simple mind of a wolf would not have made for a good student. He needed a stimulant, or catalyst of sorts. Then an idea struck her. He could devour the flesh of man and in doing so, perhaps acquire the faculties needed to become one. It worked for her kind, maybe it would be the same for him?
It took ten years to get to this point, but Elly was proud to admit that her friend wolf knew enough about language that he could hold his own in discourse with any esteemed speaker—if only he had the lips to speak his mind. A wolf was still a wolf, no matter how much human flesh it consumed.
Elly saw the disappointment in his eyes that night. Although he could not speak a word, she understood him. His expressions became more subtle and complex: a pout here, a snarl there. It was a remarkable achievement, yet she still saw that envy in his eyes. Poor fellow. What else could she do for him? Another idea struck her, and she smiled sweetly.
“Friend wolf,” she said. “I think I know what you lack to complete your transformation.”
The wolf’s ears perked.
“I was on my way to grandma,” she continued. “She’s a sweet, old witch who likes little boys and girls. Her being is made of hex and man. Perhaps if you eat her and don her clothes, you’ll finally change.”
The wolf stared at her for a while, before sulking back to the ground. Her friend wolf was skeptical still, even his eagerness to devour the men she laid before him started to dwindle as if he started feeling regret and remorse for his actions. She didn’t blame him. Her friend wolf had come a long way since learning her language. He started to understand how humans thought, and now he desperately wanted to become like them—in flesh.
“Sometimes,” she said, “it takes sacrifice to progress. The history of man has proven that, time and time again. If you’ve found your resolve, seek the house that smells of gingerbread. Reach for that which you desire.”
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Elly stood at the door of the witch’s cottage, the fresh smell of her trademark lure still lingering in the air. She didn’t hear her cackles or prancing inside. The fresh paw prints of her friend wolf were still embedded on the soft ground. Elly smiled. "Ah, I wonder what has become of friend wolf." She opened the door and stepped inside.
Blood, rags, and bones littered the floor—spread over the table, the chair, the walls, and the cauldron simmering with the cooked innards of missing children. Oh, how the witch must have struggled. The scent of blood painted the picture clearly, and her gaze drifted to the witch’s bed.
Her friend sat there, a malformed figure of a wolf, fitted into the tattered remains of a hemp dress, who looked as if he had just gorged on poison. His once proud dark fur looked mottled and withered, with patches completely missing, revealing blighted flesh underneath. His eyes lacked their golden luster. Buckled maw, blunted teeth, and a bulbous head replaced the sharp features of a once noble predator. Her friend wolf wheezed and coughed as if trying to regurgitate. He looked across to her, his body quivering.
Elly’s mouth hung open as she stared into those eyes that pleaded with her.
Oh, her poor, unfortunate friend.
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Failure. He looked nothing like the humans that she adored. How could it have turned out this way? He looked like an abomination. Things were going so well. What could she do?
Ah. An idea struck her. Her dear friend just needed some encouragement. He needed to look at the bright side of things. Be positive. Looks were not everything—a lesson her dear stepmother should have learned. Now it was Elly’s time to be her friend’s mirror.
Elly approached him, smiling coyly, hands clasped behind her back.
“Oh, granny, how hairy you are,” she said.
The trembling wolf looked at her and wheezed. What?
“Oh, granny,” she continued. “What long nails you have.”
Disbelief reflected in his eyes. How could she think so?
The wolf looked down at his misshapen paws. They looked nothing like hands.
“Oh, granny, what big ears you have.”
The wolf attempted to grimace. Elly taught him sarcasm and mockery. Did he think she was mocking him?
Oh, no. Her dear friend was mistaken, she was only trying to ease his worries.
“Oh, granny, what big nostrils you have.” Elly stifled a giggle.
Stop. Stop! Why are you doing this? You were supposed to help me become human, he thought.
“Oh, granny, what big eyes you have.”
The wolf’s glare bore into her, seething with embarrassment and anger. ‘I hate you! You deceived me! I shouldn’t have listened to you. I’m not human’. He tried to speak, but his usual growling and whining were all that came out. Nothing has changed. A wolf was still a wolf. His wheezing hastened.
Oh, what do we have here? Something inside her friend wolf was different as well. That quality that she thought he lacked seemed on the verge of blooming. Elly was almost certain that all her friend wolf needed now was just a little more push. Perhaps she could turn this tragedy into a comedy. She failed to hide her grin.
“Oh, granny, what a big mouth you have—”
The wolf roared and pounced at her, his claws digging into her shoulders, and let out a vehement howl that shook the room and shattered the windows. He poured all of the rage, humiliation, anguish, and despair that he could not shout in the language of man, into that terrible wail—and Elly felt it in full.
She raised her hands and gently grasped the wolf’s forearms, ending his howling.
He looked down at her, the gold luster returning in his eyes. His tears flowed freely, trickling down on Elly’s cheeks.
She smiled with pride—at him.
“You did it,” she said. “Though you may not resemble them, you show all the other qualities that make you undeniably human.”
His rage subsided. Was she speaking truth? Would he trust her now? Yes, maybe she’s right. He certainly felt more human, in his mind. His visage was unmistakably not, but perhaps that didn’t matter after all. He whined at her, licking the tears that fell on her cheek to show his affection and forgiveness.
“But,” she continued, her face somber. “I’m so sorry it had to end this way.”
The door burst open and a wizened dwarf marched towards them, swinging a weathered axe. It sank deep into the wolf’s neck, sending him staggering. The wolf, already in a weakened state, crumpled to the floor and emitted a pleading yelp.
The dwarf’s dark gaze showed no remorse as he brought his axe down once more.
The wolf’s head rolled to the side, his eyes staring at Elly as she gathered herself.
“That was for my brothers, you fucking monster!” The dwarf spat on the ground, the axe trembling in his hands.
As the light faded from the wolf’s eyes, he managed to move his maw, as if still trying to speak out. No, she made me do it. She killed them. She’s the monster. She’s the liar. I’m human, he tried to confess. But all that came out was gurgling.
The dwarf dropped his axe and embraced her.
“It’s alright now,” said the dwarf as he sobbed on her shoulder. “The beast is slain. I’ve avenged them, just like you said I would.”
“Yes, you can rest now.” Elly closed her eyes and returned his embrace.
The wolf stopped moving his maw but continued to stare at them in silence.
Ah, what a tragic day, to lose a dear friend this way. She sank her fangs deep into the dwarf’s exposed neck and opened her eyes to stare at the wolf’s own, watching as their luster faded.
Beast, the wolf thought before he died.
How cruel of him to have thought that. No beast would be as charitable, as compassionate, and as cruel as she. Her friend wolf was wrong. There were no beasts in the cottage that night—for in the arms of a dying, vengeful dwarf, watched by a dead wolf, surrounded by the remnants of a cannibalistic witch, within a house that smelled of fresh gingerbread, Elly couldn’t have felt more human.