17 November 2010

Little Red Riding Hood

In this forest, even the wolves have webbed feet, the pools are covered in water weeds and look like the freshest greenest earth.  Tricky and insubstantial.  Sometimes firm underfoot but mostly shifting, sliding sucking mud.
Red would stand out, so I wear combats like any sensible guerilla girl.  The trees poke up roots above the wetness so they can breathe.  Our pack leader could learn a thing from them.  He is too busy trying to keep an eye on us, too busy trying to worry us into submission to make grand plans, grandma plans. 
We could have won this already, been kings of our own turf if he had listened to my plan, but he thought disguises were childish and ignoble. 
Sodden pelt, I shiver.  The cottage was dry, prime territory.  I could start a litter there.  One old woman to scare away, or disappear if she won't scare... it's not too much of a problem.  I can do it if my water wolf agrees.  Romulus tells me things can be better than this.


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