A lone sound in the
house. A sort of tapping. The slow and steady dripping of blood brings the
scent of happiness to my nostrils. It makes my mouth water with its
pleasantness and a dark smile spreads across my face. I open my eyes to see the
walls streaked with bright crimson and the smeared handprints on the door where
the humans tried to escape. But it is not in me to leave witnesses.
Stepping over the bodies that are tossed
aside on the floor, I reach into my pocket and take out a wooden paw. I press
it in the pooling blood at my feet and stamp its footprint pattern across the
floor. When I reach the middle of the room, I stand and leave my own steps
outlined in blood heading to the door. Looking back at the footprints as they
change from wolf to man, I know what the humans will see. I know who they will
blame. Silly humans.
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