Outside, the woman walked calmly to the edge of the clearing. She looked straight ahead, listening. She could hear the wolf, though wolf was only a small part of what the animal truly was, breathing nearby. It was trying to keep its breaths low and even and hidden, but her ears were sensitive. They belied the longevity of her years, which had advanced much further than her appearance, old though she seemed, suggested.

"Come out," she said.

The wolf didn't move from its concealment. It watched her, eyes trained on her slender form.

"I said, come out." Her voice was composed, but had an imperative undertone. She wasn't asking, she was telling. The animal realised this. It crept forward and stood in front of the woman. Even though she was tall, the beast towered over her. She looked up at its face.

"Don't make me repeat myself again," she said. "You know what will happen."

"Sorry, my lady," said the wolf. Its voice was a rumble of distant thunder and she could feel it vibrate through her. "I meant no disrespect."

"Yes," she said. "Disrespect is exactly what you meant. It is becoming a habit. Once more and you will find yourself with another inside of you. Perhaps a snake this time. Snakes are lowly, prostrate creatures and I believe you would benefit from some humility."

"Please, my lady, You promised no more! I struggle with the burden of the ones I carry. You said the wolf would be the last!"

"Yes, I did, didn't I? Well, I don't even listen to myself, so why should you?"

The wolf bowed its head. It had served the witch for a century, having been born a hound but having been transformed with each mutation. She captured a creature, slaughtered it by moonlight and, with a touch of her finger and a muttered spell, combined the dead with the living. It was a horrifically painful spell which made her pet feel a continuous, tortured agony, but, as her familiar, it was unable to do anything but accept. Its form changed to become a sickening version of whatever new animal the witch had chosen, but all that had gone before served to ensure its form would forever be deviant.

"My lady."

"So. Why the two children? They tell me there was a third. Younger, I believe. Prime. Yet, you ate it?"

The wolf growled but, this time, it was one of supplication. "I thought..."

"You thought? You THOUGHT?"

"Lady..." the wolf laid its head down on its forelegs. "I wanted to make sure they came this way! Killing their brother scared them into flight!"

"As would a howl, a growl and a snap of those teeth! You didn't need to kill one! I could have made use of him!"

"I'm sorry, my lady. I thought I was doing what was best."

The witch raised her hand and the wolf flinched.

"I decide what is best. You do only what I decide. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady. I understand. It won't happen again."

"No. It won't."

She touched the wolf's nose with her finger and said three words under her breath. The wolf, for that was its current, most recognisable form, whimpered. The burning began deep within its body, near its heart. As its blood began to boil, searing through its veins, the whimper became a snarl. It wanted to attack the witch, to do to her what it had done to the boy. It wanted to, but it couldn't. The wolf was in her thrall and, through the melting of it insides, it could only look at her. And hate her.

The witch watched her creation. If she was capable of such a feeling, she might have been sad however, sadness was something only those with hearts themselves could experience. The witch had removed hers long ago. It was stored in a locked box behind the fireplace in her house. Close enough for her to feel its beat, but, with an eternally lit fire, beyond her reach. She smiled as blood oozed and popped from the wolf's orifices and licked her lips when the ochre liquid splashed her mouth. The snarl diminished to become the whimper once more, then stopped. The parts of the creature's anatomy which could make such sounds had melted. An eye fell from its socket, hanging from the optic nerve before that, too, dissolved. The eye hit the ground and melted away, steaming.

Thewitch turned and walked back to the house. She didn't look back. By the time she had closed the door behind herself, the wolf was gone. A pus-like fluid soaked into the earth, leaving a wet patch which dried quickly. The grass, yellow from heat and acidity, was the only remaining indication of the wolf's existence.