A Wolf in Grandmother’s Clothing By Giselle Renarde
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He could smell her coming, like a rose among carcasses. The forest was a crass place at the best of times, its potential for beauty subsumed by death, defecation, and human pursuits. The girl in red cut through all that like a streak of desire in a life of quiet desperation. Wolf couldn’t keep himself from drooling as she approached. He watched her feet in leather shoes ambling—left, right, left, right—along the beaten path.
Those ivory legs went all the way up, yes they did.
He fancied his chances.
As she leaned across the Queen Anne’s Lace to inhale its subtle aroma, Wolf put on his toothiest grin. He sidled up next to her, quiet in his approach. His voice was gravel on velvet as he whispered, “Lovely flowers, are th
