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Humans were danger and fire and poison. Only a mad wolf stalked a human alone.
This wolf was mad, but not in that way.
He smelled the girl coming, from a mile away. Sweet breads and honey, smoked fish, dried sausage, hard cheese. His mouth watered, so he went after the scent.
If he was lucky, the human might take fright. Might drop or spill their food. Then he could take it.
Humans had the best of foods, but it was dangerous. Tempting smelling. So easy to take. To eat.
So often poisoned.
Human food was the best of food, but it was only safe to eat when it was stolen.
The girl was a surprise. Small and round like a rabbit or a cub. Laughing and cheerful and bright in a way that even the wolf could recognize.
She saw him, but she did not fright. She did not run. She bowed to him, and said hello.
He loved the little human-cub, who smelled of food and did not recognize a wolf.
He walked with her, to make sure no others would try and take her food. He listened to her talk about her grandmother. The old, sick woman left alone in the wood. The frail bodied human that they had to feed, for she could no longer feed herself. He smelled her sadnesss and the grief that clung to her words.
And he understood. It was sad, and horrible, and he was so glad he had not scared the girl and taken her poisoned food.
But he could help. He could take some of the harshness from the human-cub's life, and it would benefit them both.
So he showed her the flowers that bloomed in all colors, and delighted in the joy it brought her. But he did not linger to revel in her happiness. The wolf ran and ran and ran, as fast as four legs could carry.
He knew the hut with the white shutters and the iron pipe for smoke. He knew the hut that had rosemary and mint and sage lining the walk. He knew the house of the grandmother.
He ran there, and he killed her. So the human-cub would not have to do it herself. Would not have to feed the old woman the poisoned food, to cull her from their pack.
He would protect the little one from that.