The wolf watches the little girl skip through the woods, her red hood, bright
against the darkness. Her basket bounces on her arm with each step. A breeze carries
the scent of the girl's basket to the wolf's nose: freshly baked
bread.
The girl skips along the path to her grandmother's house,
armed with fresh bread and butter, a feeble attempt to fight
the sickness her grandmother had contracted. She hasn't
visited her grandmother in a while, not since her mother
passed. Following the path, she stops to pick some flowers.
The wolf tracks the girl as she follows the path to the
woodland hag's house. The wolf loathes the witch, greedy
with her surplus of food, hunting his woodland neighbors for
fun. She'll get hers, the wolf thinks as he hurries ahead of the
girl.
The girl has always been intimidated by her grandma. Her grandmother's idea of
decor is having her walls adorned with heads of innocent woodland creatures: deer,
foxes, and even little bunnies. The gun used to kill each animal hangs above her
grandmother's bed. "So I can easily reach it if I hear one of those damned animals
making a racket", her granny always tells her. However, she had never heard any animals
outside before. Maybe they are too afraid to go near her house, the little girl assumes. No
matter the girl's negative feelings towards her gran, her father forced her to take this
bread and help her grandmother through her sickness. The girl decided that she would
go into this with a positive attitude. Perhaps Granny has changed. It has been a while, she
hopes, continuing down the path.
The wolf approaches the door to the hag's cabin. He hears a crude cough come
from inside. He peers into the window. The crone looks more horrible than the wolf
remembers. She dons a ratty, old bonnet and an ugly, long-sleeved nightgown as she
wastes away in bed. He spots the gun hanging above her bed, the one that killed
countless of his woodland brethren. Seeing the gun reminds the wolf to be very careful,
so the old cow won't end his life early. He goes around the side of the shack and tries
the doorknob. It opens. Of course it would be unlocked, the
hag always was arrogant, the wolf thinks as he slinks in. The
cabin opens into the kitchen, or, as the wolf thinks, a
torture chamber. The kitchen is filled with innumerable
horrors, such as, mallots, meat cleavers, and a meat
tenderizer. This does nothing to quell the anger the wolf
feels, instead, it feeds it. The hag deserves this, the wolf
reasons. With newfound vigor, the wolf searches for two
supplies in the kitchen, a rope and a rag. Remembering
that the red-cloaked girl is not that far off, the wolf moves
quicker. He bounds into the old cow's room, holding the
rope, preparing to tie her up. "What in God's name," the
witch says, startled, reaching for her gun. Before she can grab it, the wolf pounces on
the crone and begins to tie her up, incapacitating her. Once she's tied, he stuffs the rag
into her mouth and pushes her into a closet. The wolf grabs
one of her many nightgowns off a hanger and snatches the
bonnet off the old bat's head. Putting them on, the wolf
jumps into the bed.
The girl knocks on the door to her grandmother's cottage
before grabbing the doorknob and pulling it open. "Good
morning, Grandma!," she announces. She hangs her red cloak
up on the coat rack. Feeling nervous but still hopeful, the
little girl tentatively makes her way to Granny's room. She
still hasn't acknowledged the girl's presence. "Granny, I have
bread and butter for you. Father told me to come take it to
you. I can also help you with anything else you need around
the house since you are not feeling well," the little girl says as she pushes open the door
to Grandma's room.
The wolf hurriedly covers himself with blankets, grabbing a book of myths off the
old hag's bedside table. He hears the girl calling to her grandmother. He quickly covers
his face with the book as the girl enters the room.
"Grandma?," the little girl asks, seeing her grandmother in bed, holding a book
of myths in front of her face. "Is something the matter?," she questions, nervous over
her grandmother's bizarre behavior.
"Oh nothing, dearie, just enraptured by these myths. The Greek gods were very
interesting," the wolf says, imitating the old bat's voice.
"Your sickness must be really bad. Your voice is so deep, Granny!" the little girl
exclaims, startled by the depth. "Here," the girl says, holding up her picnic basket, "my
dad baked fresh bread for you, along with your favorite,
sweet butter."
The wolf smells the delightful aroma again, his
mouth watering as the girl removes the cloth that was
covering it. He sets the book down, licking his lips.
The little girl looks up from her basket to see her
grandmother, but she looks very different. "Granny, what
big ears you have! They are much bigger than they were
the last time I had seen you," the little girl remarks.
"All the better to hear you with, my darling," the
wolf responds.
"And what big eyes you have," the girl inquires.
"The better to see you with, dearie," the wolf answers.
"An-and what big teeth you have, Granny," the girl stammers.
"All the better to eat your delicious bread with, little pumpkin," the wolf says, his
stomach growling.
The girl smiles as she breaks off a piece of the bread, stathers some butter on it
and passes it to her granny.
The wolf takes the piece from the girl, hungrily scarfing it down. Just as he is
about to ask for another piece, the door to the closet bursts open, the witch falling out
onto the floor. She stands up quickly, much faster than is expected of someone as
ancient as her, grabbing a hanger and bashing the wolf with it. The wolf hurries off the
bed to avoid getting struck again. "Get away from her, you cursed wolf!," the hag
screeches.
The little girl is overwhelmed, unable to comprehend what is happening. The
bonnet and nightgown fall off the person she thought was her granny, revealing a wolf.
Her real Granny quickly reaches for her gun, loading it and aiming it at the wolf.
Without thinking, the girl jumps in front of the wolf. "Grandmother, stop!," she
exclaims. "Oh, blasted child, get out of the way before I blow that wolf to smithereens!,"
her grandmother threatens.
"He didn't hurt me, Granny! He's a good wolf," she pleads.
"Good?! He locked me in the closet and stole my bread!,"she
retorts.
The wolf, cowering behind the girl, feels something he has never
felt before, love. He doesn't even know this little girl's name, yet
she feels compelled to protect him. His heart warms, vowing to
protect her, especially from the old kook pointing a gun at her.
"See, Grandma, he didn't hurt you either. He is not evil!," the girl
reasons.
"It doesn't matter. His head will look very good over my
fireplace," she sneers, "Now move out of my way before I pull this
trigger, with or without you out of the way!"
The girl quits her pleading, realizing her naivety, her innocence and trust
shattered, believing that her grandmother could change. She looks to the wolf behind
her, perplexed that the wolf is not scared. Where she thought there would be fear, there
is anger. She smiles at the wolf. Her grandmother would never change, she would go on
killing innocent woodland creatures. The girl now understands that this forest will be a
much better place without her grandmother.
The wolf sees that the crone is about to pull the trigger. He leaps out from behind
the safety of the girl, tackling the hag. He grabs the gun from her and hits the butt of it
onto her head. The hag collapses, unconscious. The wolf turns back to the little girl.
The little girl, seeing her grandmother, looking almost dead, feels a sense of
relief. The wolf is safe and so are hundreds of other animals in the woods. She takes the
gun from the wolf, aims it at her granny, and pulls the
trigger. Blood splatters all over the room. The little girl
drops the gun and stares at her now dead grandmother.
The wolf grabs the little girl's hand, so small
compared to his. The wolf will keep the girl safe.
The little girl and the wolf, holding hands, walk
out of the cabin, covered in the woodland hag's blood.
No one will kill anymore woodland creatures while the
little girl and the wolf are part of it. A little ways down
the path, into the woods and out of the clearing of the
cottage, a huntsman is hunting.
