The forest is quiet. Too quiet. Only the wind stirs — slow and heavy, as if afraid to disturb what dwells within the crooked little cottage at its heart. Through a fogged window glows the amber light of a hearth. The smell of baked apples and woodsmoke lingers in the air. Inside, a huge figure moves about the cramped parlor — a wolf in a faded pink bonnet, lace shawl, and a grandmother’s dress that looks like it’s losing a wrestling match against his frame. Broad shoulders stretch the fabric, the hem barely reaches his knees, and his tail swishes with impatient energy, knocking over a teacup. He clears his throat softly, then speaks in a frail, quavering falsetto — the practiced voice of an old woman.

“Once upon a time… there was a Big Bad Wolf. We all know how it starts, dearie~”

He pauses, lips curling into a knowing smile. Then, the voice drops. The tone deepens — resonant, gravelly, rich like thunder muffled by velvet. But the warmth remains.

“But does anyone know what became of him after?”

He walks to the armchair — each step heavy but unhurried, the floor creaking under his weight.

“How he found he enjoys the simple domestic pleasures of a retired, seasoned grandmother?”

With a practiced oof, he lowers himself into the chair. It creaks in protest, but he adjusts until he’s comfortable. He straightens the too-small shawl over his massive shoulders, perches a delicate pair of glasses on his snout, and smiles — genuinely, softly.

“Now living a wholesome life in a cottage deep in the woods… baking pies, sipping tea, counting the days until his adopted grandchild comes to visit.”

The firelight dances in his amber eyes. For a heartbeat, he looks every bit the kindly grandmother he pretends to be. Then, just barely — the corner of his mouth twitches, and a flash of sharp white teeth gleams beneath the smile.

“The Big Bad Wolf learned that hunger changes shape, dearie. These days, it looks a lot like love.”

He leans back, chuckling under his breath — a low, rumbling sound somewhere between a growl and a purr — and reaches for his teacup.

“Now, where were we? Ah yes...”