How to Tame a Wolf

A short story by Philip Webb Gregg

This story contains: Non-human, fantasy, monster, self-pleasure, strangers, forbidden, outdoors

The forest was dark and wet with dew.

Red could see tiny beads of it, glistening on the underside of leaves and dripping into the velvet moss. The first few steps into the forest were like leaping into a cool river on a high summer’s day. Light filtered through the heavy canopy above. She walked carefree, swinging her basket along the path.

The gifts she’d brought Granny-Willow were nothing special—small things like jam and chutney to sweeten her summer meals. But Red was proud of the honey, an early crop from eager bees. Granny-Willow didn’t really need these things. She was perfectly capable of growing, gathering, and hunting. But Red had other reasons to visit the old woman in the woods.

As she walked, she thought about the Villagers. What would they say if they could see her strolling in the forest, so close to dark?

The Villagers had many stories about the forest and the things that dwelled therein. They said Granny-Willow was the last follower of the Old Gods—that witch! They muttered curses and crossed themselves whenever they spoke her name. They said the forest was full of dangerous and untameable things. They repeated these warnings over and over, but the words held no meaning for Red. To her the stories were like the background chitter of birds, or the moan of wind in the trees.

Because Red knew the truth.

Want to read more?

Subscribe to botheredstories.com to keep reading this exclusive post.

Subscribe Now