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In a dark wood, a young girl met a wolf as she was on her way to visit her grandmother. The wolf stepped out of the tree-shadows and stood in front of the girl, blocking her path.
The girl crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot. "I told you to stay home."
The wolf gazed at her impassively and did not move.
"I can go alone," she continued. "I'm old enough now." She tossed her head, causing the hood of her scarlet cloak to fall back.
The wolf tilted his head skeptically.
The girl glared at the wolf. "I've followed papa lots of times before and we always turn right at the crossroads."
The wolf shook his head.
The girl looked over her shoulder, back toward the crossroads, and tried to remember the times she had followed her father. Surely they always turned right at the crossroads? But maybe it was left at the crossroads and right after the bridge? She frowned in concentration. Of course she knew the wolf was right, he would never lead her astray, but she had so much wanted to make this journey alone.
She turned back to the wolf, still frowning. "Okay, fine," she said sullenly. She spun on her heel and stalked back toward the crossroads. The wolf let out a huff of air that might have been a laugh and fell into pace beside the girl.
The girl did not speak to the wolf for the rest of their journey through the forest. She knew from experience that this tactic had little effect on the wolf as he was perfectly content with silence. And in any case, her mind invariably wandered and she soon forgot her anger.
So when they reached the edge of the forest and the girl caught sight of her grandmother's house in the village across the river, she clapped her hands happily and exclaimed, "There it is! Oh, I hope she has biscuits!" She turned to the wolf with a smile. "Maybe she'll have those ginger snaps you like. I'll race you!"
The girl took off running for the bridge, red cloak billowing behind her. The wolf followed, tongue hanging out, and checked his pace so the girl could keep her lead.
Once, they told stories about wolves who helped young girls lost in the woods, wolves who travelled with wanderers on fantastic quests, wolves who sang the world into being, wolves who ran with humans as equals, wolves who never betrayed their chosen companions.
Now, they tell stories about wolves who devour young girls who stray from the path, wolves who stalk foolish shepherds and their flocks, men who turn into bloodthirsty wolves beneath the full moon, wolves who huff and puff and blow houses down, wolves who snarl and growl and strike terror into the hearts of all good people.
But there are those who still whisper the old tales in the flickering shadows of their hearth fires.