Page 9 of Big Bad Wolf

Could, but I’m way too much of a chickenshit to do anything like that.

My heart starts pounding like a drumbeat in my chest, and I’m suddenly very aware of how small this cabin is. How easily it could roll over and snap its jaws at me as soon as it wakes up.

Oh, God. Oh, no…

Don’t move, Charlotte.

Don’t make a sound.

Don’t—

Its ear twitches and I clench my jaw shut, holding my breath, doing everything I can to stay quiet.

It doesn’t wake up, not completely. The big wolf shifts its bulk, a low rumble rolling through its body as it stretches its back legs slightly before adjusting its weight in the nest we’re sharing on the floor. The rumble vibrates through me, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, swallowing the panic that takes its place.

Okay.

Okay.

I’m still alive. The wolf somehow brought me here and I’m alive which makes me think that it wants me to stay that way. Why? No idea. How did a pony-sized wolf without opposable thumbs carry me from the woods and into a cabin where it promptly curled up around me and went to sleep? Yeah, I’m stumped on that one, too. But I’m alive, and I don’t think that’ll be the case much longer if the wolf wakes up and decides it’s time for a snack.

There’s a door on the other side of the wolf. If I can sneak out of the bed of blankets, tiptoe out the door, and book it into the woods, I might only have to survive two more days before I can walk out of Blackmoor and get my wish. I don’t have any idea how long I was asleep—unconscious—for, but the single window next to the door is allowing daylight to stream in. It’s been at least one full night, so that’s a plus, and now I know not to try and outrun a wolf.

Look at you, Char. You’re learning.

Now just to figure out how the hell I’m gonna sneak past a snoring wolf before it wakes up…

I try to push myself up as carefully as I can, my palms pressing through the blankets. I finally find the wood beneath me as I test how much I can move without drawing the wolf’s attention. I slide one leg toward the edge of the nest and, wouldn’t you know, I find that limit because, suddenly, the wolf’s breathing changes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I go still, but it’s too late. The wolf opens its eyes, its lower muzzle dropping partly as it inhales a breath. I yip, and it rolls from its side to its back and to its other side so that its big eyes are staring right at me.

Last night, I swore they were black. Now? The outer rims are dark, but most of the eye is a vibrant gold shade that sends shivers down my spine. My breath catches again and, for a second, we both go motionless. We stare at each other, me and the wolf, and it’s all I can do not to pass out again in the nest of the beast.

Its tongue lolls out of its mouth as the wolf nuzzles the closest part of me it can reach. I’m on my back so that means it nudges my shoulder.

My completely bare shoulder.

What the…

Okay. I’m not naked. That’s a relief considering I have a very, very bad feeling about what’s going on here. The slinky, silky black nightie is twisted up around my hips, only just covering the goods, while one of the straps has fallen down to my bicep. It wouldn’t take much for one of my tits to pop out—thank you, no bra—but I have to ask: what the hell happened to the red cloak?

My hair’s loose, too, instead of being tucked under the now missing hood. Most of it’s knotted at the nape of my neck, though there are enough loose strands spilled over the blankets beneath me. I guess, when I caught red out of the corner of my eye earlier, I mistook my hair for the cloak which is totally missing.

That’s not good. Sandy told me that I wasn’t allowed to take it off.

I wasn’t allowed…

Oh, shit. Did the wolf somehow use its teeth to remove the cloak for some reason and the forest let it because it belongs to the wild and I’m some interloper who doesn’t belong here? It makes sense—as much as any of this can make sense—but that doesn’t change the fact that I feel super exposed without the cloak to cover me, especially when a two hundred-and-fifty pound wolf is lapping at my shoulder like it’s testing my flavor.

I swallow a whimper, wondering if I would offend the beast if I grabbed one of the blankets and covered my body up with that. Before I get the chance to, though, it stretches again. The motion is almost lazy, its strong back arching as it rises, shoulders rolling as it pushes up onto its paws. It moves like it knows exactly how big it is, exactly how much space it takes up, and exactly what it can do with that knowledge.

And then it steps out of the nest before padding around the edge of it, heading right for me.

Again.

I sit up and scramble away from the wolf, my hands slipping against the blanket as I try to escape. Too bad I hit the wall behind me almost immediately, my back pressing flat against it as I run out of space.