In the times of the Olde Days, there lived a little boy named Kariel and his grandfather. This little boy had lived with his grandfather for as long as he could remember, and saw nobody but the old man his entire life. They lived far from even the closest town, raising sheep where the grass grew long and tall. Every day, Kariel would wake up before the sun did, release the flock from their pens, and wander with them, before herding them back home at sunset.

One day, Kariel came home to find that his grandfather lay on the floor of their one-room house, his leg bent at a peculiar angle. Unable to send for help, Kariel pulled his grandfather into bed, wrapped him tight, and slept on the floor. Every morning after, he would put a cold rag on his grandfather's hot forehead, change the wraps around his leg, and leave for the day with the sheep.

Now, the little boy and the old man were not the only two living so far from town. In the woods that hugged the edges of the fields where the sheep ambled, there was a skinny, red wolf. The wolf was skinny because there wasn't much food to eat, and though the sheep were plump and sure to stave off hunger for several months, the old man had always scared the wolf away. The wolf had run to his den with several welts from a beating the old man had thrown his way, and the wolf knew to stay out of sight after that.

The old man was gone, though. He hadn't smelled his stale, sharp scent in several days, and he prowled closer to the edge of the woods every day.

Kariel often saw those gleaming eyes, lurking in the treelines, but he had no choice - he had to follow the sheep, else he and his grandfather would starve. The wolf did not want to starve, either, and soon enough, he had grown brave. A week after his grandfather's accident, Kariel counted one less sheep amongst the flock.

The cycle of counting, wandering, and putting the sheep to bed continued every day. At first, the wolf only stole a hapless sheep every week, maybe letting an extra day lapse before he snatched another, but soon enough, he had taken to luring away two or three at a time. Helpless against the wolf's growing appetite, Kariel was resigned to counting half, and then a third of his remaining flock. It was not long before he was only leading three little sheep.

To make matters worse, the grandfather's fever had reached new heights. He no longer asked Kariel about the flock, or bid him good night, or smiled when Kariel talked to him about the sheep's activities. The ceiling was his only confidant; he mumbled and groaned at it all night. His leg was no better, either. It had started to smell, but Kariel was now too scared to change the bandages and look at what had become of the leg. He tucked himself into his nest on the floor and peered up at his grandfather, wondering what it was he spoke to the ceiling about, before falling asleep and dreaming.

Dreams in the Olde Days were blessed, and when one had a dream, he would have done well to write it down in the morning and devote his energies into deciphering its meaning. Tonight, Kariel dreamt of the wolf.

He saw through its eyes, and felt its hunger. His stomach churned and his mouth watered as he considered the pen where the sheep were. Would he brave the fields, venture forth to the pen? The pain in his belly was intense, and he buried himself down in his den. Not tonight. He would save his energies, and when morning came, he would take what was his.

When Kariel awoke, he knew what he had to do.

The day progressed much the same as the last. Kariel didn't bother counting today, but led his three white companions deep into the field, far from the house and the safety of familiar grazing. When they had settled happily on a robust patch of grass, Kariel slipped away and waited.

It did not take very long for the wolf to come slinking down out of the woods. His greed made Kariel sick, but he could not move. As much as he hated to leave the last three sheep defenseless amidst the prowling teeth, he knew this was his only chance to make the wolf leave them alone forever.

He heard the bleating, panicked noises of the sheep, and then there was silence. Stomach in ropes, Kariel slid out from his hiding place and peered over to the woods, where he could just see a red tail swish out of sight. He ran after the tail, taking care not to step where the wolf had not.

Traveling deep into the woods, he wandered past countless little skeletons, the piles growing thicker the farther in they went, until Kariel no longer saw the ground. He paused behind an eerily white tree and looked carefully around it.

The dismantling of the sheep surprised him. This wolf was obviously the one who had stolen the flock, for his skill in removing the fur, his speed in plucking out the organs, and his strength in prising the muscles from the bones could have only come from an excessive amount of practice. Half-awed, half-terrified, he waited until the wolf had finished, and began to feast. Neat as it was in preparing the sheep for food, the wolf took no care in keeping himself clean during the feast. It ate quickly, sending blood and flecks of meat across his fur and the ground. When he had finished, he licked himself clean and threw himself down beside a hole in the bones, too full to fit.

Kariel waited a few minutes to let the wolf sleep before slowly emerging from his hiding spot. He tensed his jaw at the sight of all the poor sheep pieces, but forced himself onward until he stood over the wolf.

To his surprise, the wolf opened its bright yellow eyes and smiled at him.

"Why, hello there," it hummed, before closing its eyes again. Kariel gasped and took a step back. "Don't look so stunned, my boy. Did you really think you could hide so close to the greatest nose in the woods?" The boy blinked and swallowed, remembering his mission. He stepped forward again and leaned over.

"So... you let me follow you?"

"Of course," came the reply, and the wolf chuckled.

"Why would you let me do that," asked Kariel as he slowly lowered himself to a crouch. He scanned the ground, and his eyes fell upon a bone, heavy and pointed.

"I'll admit, I was curious." The wolf smiled wider and stretched himself out. "Why would something as small and meatless as yourself come to the den of something as sharp and powerful as me?" Another chuckle rolled out of its mouth and it sighed in content.

"I wanted to see," began Kariel, and he hovered over the wolf with his newfound bone, "how quickly a wolf can die." Before the wolf could react, Kariel had plunged the bone deep into his fur, feeling all sorts of things squish and crunch. The wolf struggled, but his fat belly had already begun its process of digestion, and his reflexes were greatly slowed. He screeched in vain, until he at last expired, his yellow eyes fading all the while.

Kariel stared at the corpse and the bone. His hand was still wrapped around the sharp white instrument. It did not look like his hand, he thought, and he released his hold. What to do now? He looked around him and considered the mess. Piles of hearts and livers and organs Kariel didn't know the names of were lumped against a tree to his left. Eyes and teeth and hooves decorated a tree to his right. Stuffed inside the mouth of the hole where the wolf had curled was more wool than Kariel would have known what to do with. He looked back down at the wolf and thought of another wonderful idea.

Dressed in the wolf's skin, tiny trails of blood running past his eyes, Kariel surveyed the woods and smiled. It felt good, looking at things from this perspective. He could see why the wolf enjoyed chasing after sheep so much. Sheep. The word made him hungry. He felt his stomach whine, and he frowned. There were no more sheep. There was only him, and his grandfather.

Kariel pricked his ears and smiled. There was a meal! And to think, it was already cooking.