Tail of the Wolf

Once upon a time these woods were filled with my sort. You could hear piercing howls from the deepest crevices of beyond when the moon was full and crisp. Back in those days, the moon really did shine. It left the leaves sparkling on the trees and created shadows that seemed to come alive as the wind swept through. Thorned bushes grew arms and legs and darted in and out of the darkness. The mysteries of the night surrounded you. To take a stroll in the moonlight, to feel the cool breeze parting your fur, was glorious.

These days, there's little left for an old fashioned Canis Lupus like me. I still go through the motions but there's something decidedly Green Peace about howling by the rotting stumps of the old oaks. I can still reach the same blood curdling pitch but the missing foliage makes for a distinct lack of reverberation. And one does cringe at the sight of a beast experimenting with resonance in Grandma's potting shed, doesn't one?

Contemplating this very issue, one mild evening, as I strolled through the shrubbery, I heard the snapping of a twig followed by a plaintive tune. As the delicate sound became increasingly audible, I stepping onto the pathway to greet it.

'What a succulent sound' I remarked, leaning on a slender elm.
The owner of the voice stopped before me and let out a wistful sigh.
'So kind of you to say,' she responded.
I combed through my furry tail with a single claw, drawing her attention to my beastliness. With a delicate hand placed on her hip, she tilted her head towards me, pouting with an air of pretence. We paused and examined one another. She had lips like rose petals that seemed to flutter as she spoke. Her perfectly rounded face was framed by dazzling chestnut locks that tumbled down to her waist. And what a waist! Her strikingly curved figure caused me to glance down at my own battered form. The winter season had not treated me kindly and I appeared gangly and balding as a result. The alopecia on my posterior was spreading, creating the appearance of particularly undesirable human underpants. It's stress that does it. I fret over the quality of my pelt and it thins out further. It's a viscous cycle resulting in the depreciation of my sense of self worth. And the slightness of my stature does not, as you can imagine, aid my confidence in any way.
'Haven't you somewhere to be?' she enquired, awakening me from my thoughts. 'A rabbit to chase?' she added, rolling her eyes as if her words were not mocking enough.
'No little bunnies today' I responded, mirroring her pout. I felt my stomach sink as I vocalised my feeble response. Little. Bunnies. She must find me wretched.
'After a bigger catch?' she smirked, her lashes flickering like butterflies' wings.
'I only accept the best' I responded, feeling decidedly more suave.
She took a step towards me. And one more. So close now that she must have felt my warm breath against the side of her snow white face. I felt a blissful shudder run down my spine.
'Then meet me in Grandma's cottage in fifteen minutes' she whispered softly into my fur.

As she stepped back and walked onwards, I experienced a dull ache within me. Her lack of trepidation, her absence of reverence, left me longing for the reactions I deserved. Just a shudder or a twitching lip would have been enough to rekindle my sense of potence. Instead I found her delicate breath had created a shudder in me. Such effortless power made my sparse fur stand on end. I howled after her, imagining the racing of her little heart upon hearing me, then I dived back into the shrubbery of the forest floor.

I considered my options. The girl would be making her way to her Grandma's home and I would have been a fool not to be there upon her arrival. There was, however, the possibility that our arrangement was intended as a trick. With this in mind, I felt it best to arrive before expected, in order to gain a fuller understanding of the situation. I began bounding towards the old woman's home. I upped my speed again and dashed between the saplings. Cutting through the woodland and avoiding the path meant I arrived at the cottage in mere moments. Before long, I was face to face with a gnarled wooden door on a lone lodging. I knocked.
'Dear sweet Granddaughter, is that you?' sounded a voice of a decidedly lower tone than I had expected.
I hadn't considered the possibility of a Grandfather too. I cleared my throat and attempted to up my pitch considerably.
'Yes it is,' I replied in a coy tone. The result was pleasingly feminine.
'Come on in,' the voice croaked.
I slowly creaked the door open enough to peer inside. An old woman-shaped lump lay in bed by an open fire, curled up under a thick blanket. I opened the door further and crept in, closing it firmly behind me. She turned to face me. I tensed, awaiting a feeble shriek.
'Hello there,' she grumbled gruffly, 'you're not who I was expecting.'
Grandma, it seemed, was not the shrieking sort. I took a few steps towards her, hoping a closer proximity would unnerve her a little. She was not the frail nonagenarian I was expecting but a bulky individual with numerous thick hairs protruding from a fierce square chin. Her skin was thick and yellowed from a lifetime of heavy smoking: a fact that the room's discoloured walls provided evidence for. It seemed there was no Grandfather but a particularly robust woman.
'Would you like a spot of tea, dear?' she asked me.

Having failed to frighten her with my presence alone, I felt a little confused about what was expected of me in such a situation. Were the girl to arrive and find me sipping a cup of Earl Grey with her ageing Grandmother, I doubt she would have considered me the predatory fiend I hoped she might. I shook my head and attempted a devilish smile, displaying my fine array of razorish teeth. That ought to shake her up a bit. The old woman tilted her spectacles a little and upon recognising my expression, smiled back, displaying two tangled rows of rancid yellow gnashers. Suddenly she lurched forward, holding her abdomen, and opened her jaws to release a putrid belch of such magnitude that I took an involuntary step towards the door, my gums bleeding in sympathy for her own.
'Oh.' I said, gasping. 'What... big... teeth you have.'
I felt unsettled by my own words. The old woman looked charmed by them. This was not the chase I'd hoped for.

'I'm going to eat you,' I said, vomiting a little in my mouth.
It seemed I had little other choice. Were the girl to arrive and witness her Grandmother's nonchalance, she would not experience the awe and dread that I hoped she might. And perhaps the old woman would satiate my hunger, thereby diminishing the power the girl had over me with her flawless succulent flesh. I would be in complete control and she would submit to me with the greatest of reverence.
'Oh?' the old woman responded, grinning, with a glimmer of lust in her eyes.
'Yes,' I responded sternly, 'I'm going to gnaw on your leathery flesh'.
I was having trouble convincing myself of this but she seemed fairly excited by the prospect. I'd never experienced such willing prey. It removed much of the pride associated. I moved closer and sat sheepishly on the end of her bed. I avoided looking into those lascivious eyes, not for fear of remorse but rather repulsion of the glee I knew I would be met with. As I lunged towards her, she screamed with delight.

I do not feel compelled to tell you how I went about it. I've since tried to refrain from remembering. But her skin, if you must know, was like a hairy, perspiring Wellington boot. The wrinkles, however, were so deep set that the parts protruding most had a crunch to them. The fat, on the other hand, was so layered and stringy, so thick and revoltingly pungent, that I began to heave uncontrollably. I retched the old woman up and filled her bed with fetid vomit. My fur was matted with the viscous, acidic broth. I tried to shake it off me but the smell was such that I began retching again, covering myself further. I felt disgusted that I'd lowered myself to such meagre pickings.

It was on the edge of the vomit soaked bed that I sat, surrounded by the bones of the old woman, when the door creaked open. In the doorway stood the girl and as she looked at the bed and at me and inhaled the rotten odour, the corner of her mouth curled upwards, producing a crooked grin.
'Did you...' she began, a look of bemused astonishment taking over her.
With vomit on my paws, in my fur, on my face, I could tell no lie. My stomach felt as though it was literally being tied in knots, at the hands of a debauching pensioner.
'I...' I started. I could not find any words suitable.
The girl's face crumpled. Her brows became furrowed and her eyes stern. She looked straight at me while remaining perfectly still. Could it be that I'd frightened her at last? It had not been anything like how I had planned but she appeared awestruck none the less. I attempted a fierce smile, reminding her of my dangerous nature with the sight of my fangs. She raised her eyebrows and, quite unexpectedly, showered me with saliva as she exploded into a fit of laughter. She threw back her head, cackling and slapping her slender thighs.
'Nooo,' I howled with intense desperation. 'No, you can't laugh,' I cried.
I pulled my scraggly tail around my chest for comfort and let out an anguished cry.
'Stop it!' I snarled.
My protesting seemed to amuse her further. She leaned forward, grasping at her abdomen, snorting and sniggering. Suddenly, her laughter was interrupted by a deep booming voice from outside.
'I heard shrieking,' called the voice, 'what seems to be the matter, young girl?' A man of exceptionally large stature stood behind her in the doorway. His broad shoulders filled the door frame. His biceps were easily the width of her waist and the axe in his hand was noticeably sharp enough to relieve me of my head. Her eyes never left mine and as his joined them in inspecting my foul state, the two of them burst into yet more floods of excruciating cackles.
'The fierce wolf!' the man bellowed mockingly, 'Is this really it?'
'That's me' I grumbled, my insides aching. I leapt down from the acrid bed and laid myself out before him, my neck ready for the chop.
'Do me the honour,' I muttered, closing my eyes in anticipation. I felt a breeze from the axe as it swung down on to me. Unexpectedly, I felt an agonizing pain at the base of my spine and as I opened my eyes, I found my bare rear removed of its furry appendage. The man stood over me with my tail in his fist. With blood flowing from the stump, I scrambled through his legs and out into the open. The beast without a tail: hardly a beast at all.