“I am going to visit my grandmother,” you say to Stripe, the wolf. “I’m late, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.”
Stripe lets out a low growl. “I do mind,” he says. “You don’t get to come through this park at night without paying a price.” He cleans another claw on his fang and scrapes it along the lamppost to sharpen it. You’ve seen similar claw marks around the park, like graffiti.
“W-w-what price?” you ask.
Stripe reaches a hairy arm toward you, and his claws gleam in the lamplight. Saliva drips from his open jaws. You back away.
“Wait!” you say, thinking fast. “I know how you can get rid of all those nice wolves. Those goody-two-shoes wolves deserve to be punished!” you holler, slamming your fist into your hand.
Stripe lowers his paw. “Keep talking, kid,” he says.
You look both ways as if about to tell a huge secret. “I know where wolfsbane grows,” you say quietly. “I just have to drop off this cereal with my grandmother first, and then I’ll meet you back here.”
The wolf’s eyes get big. “Do you know how many good wolves I can kill with a poison like that?” he asks excitedly. But then his eyes narrow again. “How do I know you’ll come back?” he says.
“We’ll exchange cell phone numbers,” you say, pulling out your phone. You’re not sure if the wolf believes your story.