Beware of the Wolves

A young girl sits in a meadow picking flowers and placing them in a wicker basket. She’s infatuated by the bright colors, the sunny yellow daffodils and violet daisies. The warmth of the sun seeps into the pores of her face, and warms her golden hair. She sits in the grass, fresh from endless months of summer rain, close to the line of trees leading into the forest.

The flowers are the prettiest here, she thinks to herself contentedly. The grass is damp, staining her lilac dress with a faint green. She gently plucks a few daisies, some royal blue petunias the color of her mother’s eyes, and a few tulips. Mother will love these.

A rustling in the trees causes her to glance up from her basket. She sees a bunny sitting there, staring at her intently. His fur is gray, the color of a pencil rubbed gently against paper. The girl waves at him. She wants to be friendly.

The girl has never been in the forest before. Her mother instructs her not to venture beyond the meadow. “It’s too dangerous,” her mother would say, “You have to stay in the meadow or the wolves will get you.” But the girl is bigger now, already 8 years old, and the bunny sits there peacefully, harmlessly, picking through the leaves on the forest floor, tempting the girl to go say hello.

She steps towards it slowly, trying to make her movements as silent as possible. Its ears perk up swiftly. It looks up at her suddenly and then begins to hop away.

“No, wait!” The girl calls after it. “I won’t hurt you!”

The vast array of trees is the only thing that separates the girl from the creature. She’s wary of the forest, her mother’s warning ringing in her ears, but her curiosity is piqued. She could dart after the small rabbit, explore the woods, and make it home just in time for dinner.

She walks cautiously into the line of trees. The forest is filled with warm light, streaming through patches of branches like thin golden ropes extended from the sun. The leaves are varying shades of auburn and orange.

I don’t need to worry about wolves, she thinks to herself, they only come out at night. She takes a deep breath and begins to pursue the bunny. She hops over a branch and crosses into the thicket. She breaks into a run, following the direction of the small creature. It’s quick, but her stride is agile and she’s able to catch up. It leaps over fallen trees and weaves between bushes, it’s feet landing softly on the padded forest floor. She sprints after it.

She reaches out to it, attempting to catch it, to grab a hold of it when her legs get lost in a tangle of branches and she topples to the ground. Her knee scrapes against a jagged rock and she yelps. Blood begins oozing down her leg. The pain spreads through her body and she begins to cry.

Her hands are stained brown with dirt and her leg is crusted with blood. She sits up slowly. There’s a dull pain echoing in her forehead. Her vision is blurry with tears and she closes her eyes. Snot runs from her nose. She wipes it away with the back of her hand. Her head hangs low as she continues to sob. She looks up slowly, trying to get an idea of where she is. The bunny is nowhere to be found.

The dark trees form a canopy above her. All she sees are trees. Thick, black trunks protruding from the earth. Dark red leaves, scattered at the bases. She stands up slowly, wincing at the pain in her leg and turns in a slow circle. The forest seems a lot bigger when she’s standing in the middle of it.

Which way is home? she thinks. She takes a step forward. There is a clearing a few paces ahead and she walks towards it, taking in the picturesque green grass that’s starting to yellow in patches as autumn progresses. She glances up at the sky. The sun is beginning to sink below the trees, leaving streaks of pink and orange behind as it goes. I need to get home, she thinks, Mother will need my help with dinner.

She begins to make her way across the clearing, the tall grass brushing against her legs like fingernails gently scratching at her skin. The fallen leaves crunch quietly under her feet as she makes her way towards the line of trees. As she passes back into the darkness of the forest, a light wind curls its fingers through her hair, blowing her dress gently, and sending a chill down her spine. She shivers slightly. I need to get home.

She starts to walk through the forest in what she feels is the right direction. She passes tree after tree, oaks, and sycamores, and maples, but they all look the same to her. Her fatigue is beginning to catch up with her and the pain in her head is starting to spread through the rest of her body.

She glances down at her feet. Her once white mary jane’s are stained with the forest floor and red with the blood still running down her leg. Her frilly socks are dirty as well and she notices the hem of her dress is torn. I need to get home, she reminds herself. Mother will need help with dinner.

The girl is worried what her mother will say. She expects a scolding, a wagging finger, and sharp words. “Anna, I told you not to go tromping around in those woods,” her mother will lecture. “Stay in the meadow, I said, or the wolves will get you.” The girl hopes her mother won’t be too mad about the shoes.

She’s been walking for what feels like an hour. The pain radiating from both her knee and her head has begun to dull. She glances up at the sky again, but can’t see the sunset through the thick layer of branches. The entrails of sunlight are withdrawing from the monotonous woods. She continues to walk, holding her arms tightly to her body as the wind sends continuous shivers down her spine. Her teeth are chattering.

The sound of crickets grows louder in her ears. Their chirping echoes through the forest. An owl hoots in the distance. The forest is dark now. The air, an eerie shade of navy, the chill constant.

She glances down at her leg again and sees the dried blood outlining the jagged cut on her leg. She touches it gently, sending a stinging sensation down her leg. She yelps. What am I going to do? She thinks as tears start to roll gently down her cheeks. She keeps walking forward, but the salty droplets blur her vision. She sniffles quietly. Mother was right. The woods are scary.

The night is dark. The wind rustles the leaves. Different creatures let out hoots and howls from every hidden corner of the forest. She walks quicker, desperate to get home. Mother will be worried now, she thinks to herself. I need to hurry. She lets her small feet carry her into a run. A howl sounds from behind her. Her pulse quickens. She doesn't want whatever’s out there to catch up to her.

The howl sounds again and the little girl begins to sprint full fledged through the woods. Trees whiz by her, the night’s thick blanket blurring them to a mirage of dark colors. She stumbles into a clearing and looks up to see the vast array of stars, spread across the night sky.

She looks around. Everywhere she turns there are trees. She feels lost, but this patch of grass feels familiar. The clearing! she thinks. The same one she had limped into a few hours earlier. How did I get here? The forest has her trapped in some sort of loop, the trees forming an endless maze she could never get out of.

A wave of panic takes hold of her body. Her heart racing, her palms clammy. She looks around for any sign of familiarity. Which way is home? she thinks, turning her head, scanning the tree line. Where do I go? She should continue to walk through the woods, continue her search, but the fear of getting swallowed by the trees traps her in the clearing.

The girl hears the howl again, and then a low growl. She takes in a sharp breath. Stay in the meadow or the wolves will get you. Her mother’s words echo in her head. She glances around frantically. Which way is home? And then she sees them. A pair of piercing yellow eyes, like two embers glowing in the moonlight.

A twig snaps and she hears a bark. The girl takes a step back, inching away from the creature. It steps slowly into the clearing. She sees it illuminated in the moonlight. Two ears, a snout, a mouth bearing razor sharp teeth. A wolf.

I need to go, she thinks, frantically holding back tears, I need to go now! But then another one appears, and another, and another, the pack seeming to materialize in the thin night air, until she is surrounded by four enormous, hulking wolves. Their coats are the color of ash. They creep towards her. Step by step. I need to go now!

She turns and dashes as quickly as she can across the clearing. She can see the treeline in front of her and she reaches out her hand to it, but it's too far. The wolves are right on her heels. She’s not going to make it.

They tackle the girl to the ground and she rolls over as they pounce on top. Their hot breath stings at the tears that are streaming down her face.

The girl screams. For someone, anyone to hear her. “Help!” she calls out. “Please!” But her cries are lost in the abyss of the dark sky.

She screams in agony as the wolves grab at her dress and her hair, scratch her legs with their gargantuan paws. Her mother’s words ring clear in her head. “Stay in the meadow,” she would say, “or the wolves will get you.” The girl lies numbly in the grass as the wolves tear her skin, and sink their teeth into her body. The sky begins to darken, the stars fading from view.

The little girl’s eyes flutter closed.

A mother walks through the woods. Her voice calls out desperately into the trees. “Anna!” she yells, “Anna where are you?” But there is no response except for the amplifying echo of crickets. Her words are frantic, desperately calling out to the night sky. Her eyes are red, her cheeks stained with tears. She tromps through the leaves and branches that litter the forest floor. She scans the trees for any sign of her little girl, but alas, there is nothing to be found.

Tears begin to pool in the mother’s eyes again. She blames herself for her little girl’s disappearance. I should have watched her more carefully, she thinks to herself. One minute she was in the meadow, picking flowers and giggling to herself, and the next she was gone, swept away like a whisper in the wind.

The mother arrives at a clearing. The grass is tall and she walks through it, careful not to let her dress drag on the ground. Something catches her eye, illuminated by the moonlight. She walks towards it. It's a white shoe, smudged with dirt. There’s another sitting right next to it. She picks it up carefully. It’s covered in splatters of blood. Anna, she thinks, my baby what happened?

She continues to walk through the grass, calling out for the girl as she goes. “Anna! Anna!” but there is no response. Her heart is pounding loud in her ears. She can’t help but expect the worst. The mother imagines the daughter huddled in a far corner of the woods, shivering and crying softly to herself. Or maybe her daughter was taken by men in dark clothes with strong arms, carrying her away from home. Images flash across the mother’s mind, but nothing could have prepared her for what she lays her eyes on.

A body, battered and bloodied lies splayed in the tall grass. The girl is small and wearing a lilac dress. The mother screams and drops to her knees. “My Anna!” she cries out clutching the body tightly to her chest, smudging her dress with dark red blood. Her voice is filled with anguish.

A mother and her daughter lay in a meadow, the night sky spread out above them. The mother has tears streaming down her face, helplessly clinging to the girl, rocking back and forth on her knees, calling out her daughter’s name. “Anna. My Anna. My baby. I’m so sorry.” The girl lays limp in her arms. The mother’s sobs pierce the night.