Goldilocks and the Wolf

The wolf liked chasing this particular boy. He helped the three little pigs, didn’t he? He helped them rebuild that house of straw and that house of sticks every single time. Otherwise, the wolf might have had more chance of piglet for lunch—or maybe several lunches if it was the really plump juicy pig—long before now.

Close enough that he knew the boy could smell his hot breath, he enjoyed inhaling the tempting aroma of fear as he chased, even if experience told him that he wasn’t likely to be able to bite that ankle or that leg or anything juicier. 

With a final snap at his prey as the boy entered the clearing, the wolf pulled up short and lurked among the trees. He wasn’t going to run through that magical boundary no matter how hungry he was. 

It smelled dangerous, like an explosion of flowers in his nostrils, made him sneeze. The magic might encase him in sheep’s clothing. How long that would last, he didn’t want to find out. Imagine the embarrassment of encountering another wolf, of trying to snarl and only bleating, having to run away from his own kind. 

He wasn’t sure if getting attacked while he was covered in sheep’s clothing would turn him back into a wolf. Or would only he turn back into a wolf after the killing bite ripped his throat out? Not worth the risk, though he was plenty curious. 

He watched as the boy broke off a piece of the house and ate it. It was a shame that third pig hadn’t made the brick house out of gingerbread. The pigs would have eaten it by now.

The wolf sneezed again, then growled his most menacing growl. He watched from the shadows of the trees as the boy looked around and failed to spot him. 

Yes. I’m still out here. Just wanted you to know.

He watched the boy go into the house and heard the boy’s mother singing before the door closed. He huffed, remembering how as a young cub, he had romped through a sun-bright meadow bursting with flowers, chasing a butterfly. His teeth had so nearly caught the fluttering annoying thing, but then he had been caught, grabbed by a young girl.

His impulse to bite and claw and twist and escape vanished when she looked into his eyes.

“Puppy,” she said and hugged him to her. She had been singing as she carried him right through the magical barrier and into and through that house to the garden behind it.

They had played together, two young things barely knowing what they were yet.

Until the broom came, and the woman wielding it shouting at him. The little girl sobbed. That had hurt more than the impact of the broom that chased him out of the garden.

He supposed this was another reason why he did not bother started chasing that boy a bit sooner, never quite launched an attack. The little girl became the singing woman, so this boy was her cub when it came right down to it.

The wolf still dreamed of that garden. His mate sometimes nuzzled him in the morning and told him that he whimpered in his sleep, so sweet, like a little cub might. He never told her, not even her, that for one long day, he had been a puppy.

He stared at the gingerbread cottage, waiting and watching. After nothing happened for a while, he sighed, turning away, and decided to find out if piglet was on the lunch menu for today. Time for some huffing and puffing. 

And then maybe check out what Goldilocks was up to.  

***

Goldilocks, eyes closed, was sat cross-legged on a magic carpet in her garden, inhaling the wafts of incense, trying to reach that elusive altered state necessary to go anywhere on a magic carpet. Although she knew it wasn’t easy, she felt sure that if she tried hard enough, she could make a go of it. 

“Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah chooooooo.”

She opened one eye reluctantly, then the other.

“Goldie,” the wolf said. “You’re looking as beautiful as always.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I was meditating,” she said.

“You,” he said, “were using incense. You know it makes me sneeze.”

“So, when you are watching from the forest and see the incense smoke rising, you don’t think to yourself that it might be better to come back later?”

“And deprive myself of seeing you, Goldie?”

She unfolded her legs and carefully disembarked from the magic carpet. Best to be careful as the ornate rug sometimes rippled underfoot. “I suppose you want a snack.”

“Your crystal ball is accurate, as usual,” the wolf said.

Goldilocks glanced at the round crystal sitting among the smoldering incense sticks. The ball had never yet showed her anything useful. Sighing, she popped indoors and brought out a plate of biscuits to share.

“Mmmm,” the wolf said, inhaling deeply, “these smell good. Fresh biscuits baked by Goldilocks are delicious.”

“I shouldn’t really give you any,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, looking as innocent as a wolf could look.

“You’ve knocked down those houses again, haven’t you?”

The wolf glanced at the magic carpet then back at her.

“Made those two pigs homeless?”

“Not homeless, exactly,” he protested. “They are visiting with their big brother.”

“Still,” she said, and gave him a glare.

He reached for and grabbed a biscuit faster than she could hit his paw away.

Goldilocks laughed as she couldn’t hold on to the stern face any longer. “Silly old pigs.”

“Silly plump pigs,” he amended, munching on the biscuit.

“I’m glad I’m not plump,” she said, admiring her long legs.

The wolf devoured her with his eyes. “Not an ounce of excess,” he agreed.

“Can you do another delivery for me?” she asked.

He helped himself to another biscuit and took a bite. “For you, Goldie, I would go almost anywhere as long as it doesn’t involve me riding on a magic carpet.”

“Almost anywhere?” she quibbled.

“I’m a wolf,” he said. “There are places I wouldn’t be welcome.”

“Are there?” she asked, putting as much surprise into the question as she could.

“Those three pigs, for example,” he said and eyed the plate where one lonely biscuit sat.

She turned her hand over in a gesture of permission. 

He conveyed the last biscuit into his mouth with a show of enormous pleasure. 

Goldilocks laughed. She went back into the house and brought a big box of biscuits and a small box. Across the side of both boxes a flowery script declared: Gorgeous Golden Morsels by Goldilocks.

“Two deliveries?” the wolf asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The small box is for your mate,” she said. “I know she’s expecting cubs. She’ll be hungry.”

“That’s kind of you,” the wolf said. “And the delivery?”

She gave him her brightest smile and told him.

The wolf rolled his eyes.

“It’s on your way home,” she said.

“Goldie,” he said and paused. “It might be on my way, but whether I get back to my den afterward is another question entirely.”

She looked at the crystal ball which only revealed a reflection of its surroundings. “You’ll be fine,” she told. “Think positive.”

The wolf took a deep breath, then, with a sigh, stacked the small box of biscuits on the large box and tucked both under his arm. 

Goldilocks watched him go and hoped he would be okay. They had been friends ever since she that complete misunderstanding with the three bears while she was house hunting. The wolf had rescued her from their wrath, though why he had been lurking in the vicinity was another question.

On the plus side, the taste of their porridge inspired her to create the gorgeous golden morsels and start gathering fame and fortune since everyone liked them so very much.

She sat down cross-legged on the magic carpet again, inhaled the incense deeply into her lungs, and closed her eyes.

***

Moving from shadow to shadow through the woods, the wolf thought how pleased his mate would be. He didn’t usually go this way, being a creature of habit. Sticking to his routine had kept him alive for a very long time. However, the biscuits for his mate would go down well.

Sometimes he brought a box of broken biscuits back to the den for her, but these were perfect. He had inspected them as soon as he was out of sight, licking his lips but managing not to munch one. 

He told himself that he was in no way a delivery boy—or wolf, for that matter. 

Just doing Goldie a little favor. Nothing to it really. Think positive, like she suggested.

Reaching the edge of the woods, the wolf saw what looked like a really tall tree. As he approached, the huge individual leaves became visible. The massive green vine extended all the way from a thick base rooted in the earth to the soft bundle of a solitary cloud inhabiting the sky.

He climbed partway up a nearby oak which looked like a twig in comparison. He deposited the smaller box where the branches spread to retrieve later. What he told Goldie about maybe not making it home afterwards had—mostly—been exaggeration.

Standing at the bottom of the vine, the wolf looked straight up. Long way. But he had reached the top before, though not with a box of biscuits to worry about.

He looked around and seized on a thin piece of vine among the debris that always littered the ground here. He wrapped this around the box, both ways, knotted it several times before fastening the rest of the length so he could sling it across his both.

After double checking that the knots were secure, the wolf began to climb.

Besides being lean without a spare ounce of flesh on him, he had a good reach which made it easier to find the next grip and the one after that. He could not fathom how a mortal would manage, but then, so far, nobody had tried.

An ordinary wolf could never do it, of course. But then, he was far from ordinary. Imagine not being able to talk to Goldie or to huff and puff those houses built of straw and sticks down. No. He had magic in his blood. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he could hear the magic singing, though what it was singing, he could never quite tell.

Halfway up the enormous green vine, he paused to catch his breath. He could hear delicate harp music, although he might be imagining that due to expecting it. He might find a stray chicken wandering around the garden outside the mansion. He never knew what he was going to find, though most of the treasures were not edible. And actually, it was best not to go inside.

As the wolf continued climbing, he began to feel that this vine stretched halfway to the sun. He had debated this and many other things with Goldilocks during their frequent chats.

When he got to within touching distance of the cloud, he sniffed the air. Goose. He would love to take that goose back to the den to share with his mate. However, since the goose had the habit of laying golden eggs, the giant would definitely be offended if it disappeared.

He definitely heard the harp now and the less melodious cackle of the parrot. He pushed his paw into the cloud and groped for another grip. He closed his eyes as he ascended, his head surrounded by cloud which was wet and cold, not soft and fluffy like it appeared. A cheat, like so many things in life.

He progressed more slowly because the vine was slippery where the cloud moistened it. He took his time. Move one paw, find a grip, make sure of the grip. Repeat. He ignored how the damp collected on his fur. He pretended he was not getting chilled. He resisted the urge to sneeze.

Finally at long last, the wolf emerged into bright sunlight and climbed up into the garden of the gods—well, of the giant, actually, but it was more beautiful than an ornery giant deserved.

The big plump white goose was right there in front of him. Saliva flooded his mouth, rousing the instinct to grab and run, but he closed his eyes briefly and pretended the goose wasn’t there.

The goose honked loudly.

He opened his eyes.

The goose stared at the box of biscuits.

He loosened the box of biscuits from the securing vine, careful to keep it out of reach of the goose. He swallowed another surge of saliva.

The wolf harrumphed and shouted as loudly as he could, “Special Delivery from Goldilocks.”

“Hmmm?” the giant rumbled like distant thunder.

The whole garden trembled. The wolf shouted, “Biscuits for your goose.”

“Hummmmm,” said the giant.

All the shrubs and bushes shivered. The leaves on the trees quivered.

The wolf felt generations of his magical ancestors tapping him on the shoulder. He heard them telling him to get out of here fast, drop the biscuits and run. But he stayed put and shouted, “Gorgeous Golden Morsels for your precious goose from Goldilocks.”

“Rah Haaaaa,” said the giant and began to move. With each step the giant took inside the gigantic mansion, the garden shook as if from a small earthquake. Birds flew up from the trees. He could hear the parrot squawking.

Then the wolf was looking up and up and up at the big face of the giant peering down at him. He lifted the box as high as he could and shouted, “Biscuits for your goose.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” sighed the giant and reached down to offer an enormous palm.

With all his nerves twanging, the wolf placed the box onto the giant’s palm and stepped back sharply.

The giant lifted his palm to just below his face and squinted his eyes to study it. Satisfied, he gently closed his palm. His other hand he dug into a pocket and brought out a sack that looked much too tiny. He offered this to the wolf who accepted the heavy sack.

The wolf shouted, “Goldilocks says that she would be happy to make more golden morsels for your goose.”

“He-he-he-he-he,” the giant laughed.

The wolf tied the vine firmly around the top of the sack, testing the knots once, twice, three times. 

The goose honked several times, gazing up at the giant who reached down one finger to brush the goose’s head.

The wolf turned around and found the top of the vine protruding through the cloud. He established his position and a firm hold before descending into the damp mist. 

He would make up a good story for Goldilocks about how difficult it had been, but for now he must concentrate on getting down the vine safely. It was a long way down, but luckily his nickname since as a cub was Clever Paws. Since those distant days, his cleverness had only increased.