The Very Hungry Wolf

Red

Red.  

            It may be just a color to some, but to others it is the symbol of fear.  A long, soft, billowing cloak; dark braided hair; eyes that could pierce a man’s heart.  The biggest baddest huntress in the enchanted woods, otherwise known as The Red Hood.

Rumor had it that the woman could shoot the fuzz off a field mouse from a mile away.  But she didn’t hunt field mice.  Her main game was wolves.  And she never would fire from a distance.  She loved to lure the beasts in with traps of every kind, bringing them close.  And only then would she strike, ensuring that the last thing that the poor dogs would ever see was Red.

            All young wolves had heard the tales and had been warned of the dangerous huntress.  They were told to be careful when traveling through the woods and always remain vigilant for any snares the Red Lady might set.

            However, remaining vigilant can be a task for one who has not eaten in days.  Nebbish Wolf was starving.  Ever since he’d gotten that whopper of a cold and sneezed down two of the pig brother’s houses, he had not been very welcome in the third one’s home.  The last time he had tried he had almost ended up in one of their stews himself.  He’d had so many dinners at their houses, he’d come to depend on their scrumptious cooking.  

            Now, he was on his own.  He supposed he should probably hunt for something to eat, but that tended to mean eating rabbits or some other helpless animal.  That just wasn’t his style, so Nebbish sat with his stomach growling ferociously.  

The wolf was just beginning to drift off to sleep, when a tantalizing smell wafted over to him and hovered through his nostrils.  Nebbish’s eyes flashed open and his ears pricked at the sound of movement through the undergrowth.  Keeping himself low, he peered out through the bushes.  

A brown cloak, he made sure it was brown, covered a young girl carrying a basket.  The sweet scent of baked sweets was coming from the woven box.  It took everything Nebbish had not to lunge out and snatch the basket from the child.  Instead he took a deep breath and walked out to greet her.

“Pardon me, Miss,” the wolf began.  “I am terribly sorry for my impudence, but I was wondering if you could spare a morsel of--”  Nebbish froze, inches from the child as she unlatched the  large brown cloak allowing it to slip from her shoulders, revealing a much more menacing color.

The child, who was not a really a child, turned toward him.  “Oh, yes, you’re excused,” She whispered, a cold sadistic grin adding to the icy gleam in her black eyes.

Nebbish whirled around and bolted, right as the distant shout of a man yelled.  “Timber!”

A deafening crash echoed behind the terrified wolf. He dared not look back t until he knew he was far enough away; and even so, he kept moving when he did.  A tree had saved his life, Nebbish realized.  Well, a woodsman had at least.  That tree must have distracted Red.  That was the only explanation.  No wolf had gotten so close to the huntress and survived.

Nebbish smiled, feeling rather pleased with himself.  He had done what no other wolf had.  He had escaped the evil clutches of the ruthless witch.  Suddenly his stomach yowled ravenously.  His fear of being shot by Red had briefly made him forget about his hunger, but now it roared back at full throttle. He moaned and fell to his knees.  

Nebbish was desperate.  Maybe it truly was time for him to do his own hunting.  Another crunching sound from the path made the poor wolf start.  This time it was an old woman wearing a pink nightgown, a nightcap, and a pair of soft white bunny slippers.  

“Oh, look at you,” the woman crooned.  “Poor lonely puppy, all alone in these terrible woods.”

Nebbish let out a sigh of relief.  It wasn’t Red.  He cleared his throat.  “I apologize, madam, but you are mistaken.  I am a wolf, not a pup.  My name is Nebbish.”  The wolf bowed.  “And my dear woman, I must ask. If you consider these woods such a horrible place, why are you out in them?”