Little Red Riding Hood

He is afraid. The warmth of the fire in Red's house has been his source of comfort, together with her loving embraces. Yet he is afraid. Perhaps she, in her human form, she can supress her need to kill. But he, he is a wolf. It is all he knows. He misses the first pounce towards his victim, feeling his own teeth sink into the crying soul's flesh. He yearns for the fear he so easily instilled. He yearns to cause pain. How much longer can he keep himself hidden in plain sight?

Red seems contented the he knows her evil ways. The moment he tries to show his fangs, or bristles his fur, she is quick to silence him. "Enough" she says. No, it is not enough, growls Wolf's inner voice. You have refuse to see the monster that I am. I am not good. I have no good in me. All I am, is instinct. All I am, is a need to feel superior, and to destroy. There is no good in me. No matter how many good deeds I perform, deep inside, there is no good in me.

Wolf looks longingly at the door. Maybe if he went out for a hunt, away from Red, perhaps he could then come back and lay at her feet again. Perhaps.

He sees Red has kept her dagger. Kept away, but she still keeps it with her. And it is still sharp. Wolf knows of the others that have died at the point of that dagger. He sighs. Once again, he looks at the door. but it's so warm here ...outside there is nothing but cold, harsh vast lands. Wolf closes his eyes, thinking of the countless nights curled up under fallen tree barks, mounds of earth, or anything he could find to remotely resemble the presence of another. So he could feel like he wasn't alone. Yet now that he isn't, he finds he constantly speaks of his life in the wild.