â ď¸ TW: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Psychological Horror, Dark Themes, Implied / Non-graphic Violence, Manipulative Antagonist, Ragdoll Anatomy.
The Mother Goat was walking through the dense forest, gathering food for her children. She had been wandering for so long that the shadows had deepened into complete darkness, and that was when she stumbled upon him.
Towering between the trees, looking straight down at her, stood a creature of immense height. He wore a blue jumpsuit with golden buttons on the straps, his frame covered in thick grey fur, with a snout as black as pitch. He just stood there, motionless, his gaze locking onto her.
Startled by the sudden fright, the Mother Goat collapsed backward from her hooves, barely missing hitting her head against the hard dirt. Her basket slipped from her hands, by some miracle not overturning or scattering the hard-won food across the forest grass.
In that exact second, the Wolfâwho had been standing completely still just a few meters awayâmoved with terrifying, unnatural speed. Before she could even process it, he was already right beside the dropped basket, lifting it up and raising it to half his immense height. Even if the Mother Goat stood up, she would never be able to reach it.
Trapped between fear and confusion, yet knowing she couldn't return home to her starving kids empty-handed, she forced herself to overcome her timidity. Her voice trembled as she spoke: "Mr. Wolf... I'm sorry, but you frightened me at such an hour. Please, I need to feed my children. They have been starving for so long, and that basket you are holding contains all the food I gathered for them. Could you... could you please give it back to me?"
The Wolf twisted his snout into what he tried to pass off as a reassuring, fawning expression. He hunched his massive shoulders, leaning down closer to the Goat sitting on the ground. Keeping his empty eyes locked onto hers, he began to wave his free hand, silently beckoning her to come closer.
As the bewildered Goat watched this wordless action, the Wolf used her hesitation to close the remaining distance. He squatted down right in front of her, lowering his head so that her muzzle and his snout were on the exact same level. He pressed in so close that they were practically nose-to-nose.
Finally, he gently wrapped his massive, heavy handâthe one he had used to beckon herâaround the scruff of the Mother Goatâs neck. The Wolf began to speak in a low, guttural whisper, speaking inward, as if terrified that someone else in the dark woods might overhear them:
"Miss, I do apologize for startling you so... but tell me, why are you gathering food in the forest at such a late hour? The woods are so dangerous, especially in a dark time like this. Did you truly get so caught up in your work that you lost track of time, or... perhaps you were waiting for someone out here?"
The Mother Goat was stunned and deeply unsettled by the sheer inappropriateness of his question. She wanted to voice her anger, to firmly demand her basket back and tell him to let her go. But suddenly, something clicked in her mind as the grim reality of her situation set in. Her thoughts rushed down a double-track rail of pure panic, fueled by recent, dark rumors about these very woods.
It was pitch black. A massive wolf was looming over her, his heavy grip tight around her neck, making it impossible to even attempt to run. And there was absolutely no one around to call for help.
Lost and terrified, she could only pray that her next words would save her. "Mr. Wolf, could you please let me go?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "I must return home to feed my children. I am perfectly fine, even if I did get a little lost, but..."
The Wolf cut her off, his tone remaining chillingly polite and smooth: "Allow me to walk you to your house. In an hour as perilous as this, a good little goat like you should only rely on someone like me. Don't worry, it won't trouble you in the slightest. In return, I only ask that you let me stay the night under your roof. And believe me... you won't regret it at all. Quite the opposite."
Suddenly, the Wolf grew alert, casting a quick glance around the dark trees as if checking for unwanted eyes. Rising back to his feet, he hauled the Mother Goat up with him. He slid his massive hand from the scruff of her neck down to her shoulder, while simultaneously flipping the handle of her basket onto his wrist, using his other hand to pull her firmly onto her hooves.
The Wolf handed her back the basket. But the moment she turned her back to him, intending to swiftly move toward her house, she felt the crushing weight of his heavy paws slamming down onto her shoulders once more.
"There is no need to rush so much, miss," his voice rasped right above her ears. "You were lucky when you fell the first time, but the next fall might not end so well for you. Walk slowly in this darkness. You will return late either way."
The Mother Goat was forced to walk slowly toward her home, entirely powerless against the Wolf's imposing will. With every step she took, she could feel the heavy, suffocating pressure of his thick jumpsuit pressing deeply against her lower back, right between her shoulder blades.
Finally, when they reached her house, it was already midnight. The Goat knocked on the door with a heavy heart: "Open up, children, it's me, your mother." The kids recognized her voice and opened the door.But as soon as the Mother Goat crossed the threshold, the children recoiled in horror, their eyes fixing on the towering figure entering the house right behind her."Who did you bring to us, mommy? Why did the Big Bad Wolf come with you?" the questions came one after another, their small cloth bodies trembling with pure dread.
One of the kids desperately tried to escape through the open doorway, but the Wolf slammed the heavy door right in his face with a deafening metallic thud."Where are you rushing to, my little unkissed boy? Dinner hasn't even started yet!" The Wolf's voice rasped. The kid could only crawl back, falling flat on his back in panic as the lock clicked shut."Don't be afraid, children, he won't hurt you," the Mother Goat tried to reassure her kids, though her voice sounded hollow and unconvincing. "When I fell in the forest, he helped me get up and guided me back to you. Come to the table and get ready for dinner."
To her surprise, the dinner itself passed with a strange, suffocating calm. Although the kids were still trembling slightlyâas if they were sitting at their own executionâthe Wolf behaved exceptionally politely, observing the basic rules of the evening feast. Yet, his gaze constantly clung to the Mother Goat, periodically shifting to her trembling children with a starved curiosity.As the minutes ticked by, the Mother Goat suddenly realized that the Wolf, in his conversation at the table, was subtly flirting with her. This caused a powerful dissonance under her fabric.
The one she perceived as a lethal threat to her family had invited himself into her home, and was now dropping hints, expecting a response from her?Gradually, the cold fear began to blend with something else, giving way to embarrassment, deep shyness⌠and a forbidden attraction. Was she really drawn to him now? She would have blushed if her cloth face allowed it, but she kept her composure, hiding her inner turmoil from the kids. Sensing that his veiled manipulation was starting to work, the Wolf pressed harder. The Mother Goat noticed that her legs were already squirming under the table from the unbearable psychological and physical pressure of being at the same table with him.Finally, the Wolf rose, signaling that the meal was over. The kids, terrified of his presence, hurried to lock themselves in their room.
The Wolf turned his dark gaze back to the Goat, making that beckoning gesture once again.On shaky legs, the Mother Goat was about to approach him, but he got ahead of her, his massive, heavy arms wrapping around her frame."Let me take you to your bedroom, miss," he whispered gutturally, grinning with all his toothy mouth, and for some twisted reason, this only turned the Goat on even more.
The amount of tannin she had drunkâthe potent equivalent of wine in this AUâhad finally taken its toll. Drinking the alcohol brought by the guest was a terrible idea, but who cared now? The Goat was feeling too good, her mind completely numbed by the heavy drink.
Smiling stupidly, she showed the Wolf where her room was. When she tried to step away from his arms to go to bed, the Wolf did something unexpected. He declared that he would sleep in her room with her. Under different circumstances, this violation would have triggered panic, but the Mother Goat was too intoxicated to resist.He didn't need to ask twice.
Carrying her straight to her bed, he locked the door behind them. The Goat remembered nothing further, slipping into a deep, heavy slumber⌠entirely unaware that while she slept, the Wolf kills her little goats.
By morning, the Goat was sluggishly trying to stand up, experiencing a slight "fabric dryness" â the inevitable after-effect of the tannin. The Wolf, maintaining his mask of absolute courtesy, gently helped her up. He smoothly announced that he had already prepared breakfast for her, just to "revive" her after yesterday's wild night.
Completely relaxed, the Mother Goat walked into the kitchen. And then, the ultimate nightmare began.Spread across the floor was everything that remained of her beloved children.
The Wolf was already standing in the kitchen doorway, blocking her only exit. Pointing his sharp, blade-like clawed finger at her, he began to mock and jeer, making it utterly clear that it was he who had turned her children into nothing but shredded piles of rags and scrap metal.Sobbing and instantly sobering up, the Mother Goat was hit by a tidal wave of grief, loss, and pure, unadulterated hatred.
She lunged at the Wolf in a blind, desperate hope for vengeance. She fought remarkably well, driven by a mother's fury. However, the Wolf's frame proved to be overwhelmingly durable. In the heat of the brief, violent scuffle, he barely even noticed the tearing of his own outer fabric. Beneath his cloth skin,
instead of standard cotton stuffing, there lay a dense, mystical darkness that absorbed and nullified every blow her frame tried to land on him.Very soon, the Goat was brutally overpowered.
She lay defeated on her own kitchen floor, helplessly staring up at the towering monster. After gloating a little longer, the Wolf decided to repeat what he had done to her the night beforeâbut this time, he held absolutely nothing back, completely unleashing his sadistic nature.
When the Wolf finally finished, he realized he had gotten carried away. He had played too hard. There were no intact parts left of the Goat's construction that he could have taken as a souvenir to remember the night by.
This observation genuinely annoyed him. It meant he would have to return to the Witch empty-handed, and she would undoubtedly scold her "chain dog" again for creating a chaotic mess that drew unwanted attention to her domain. Now, once his mistress finished tearing into him with her cruel words, he wouldn't even have a trophy to look at to cheer himself up and remember the thrill of the hunt.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, the Wolf finally moved toward the one place he was bound to return toâthe isolated hut of the Witch. The hut of his mistress, whom he hated with every fiber of his being, yet whose commands he could never disobey, only occasionally finding loopholes in her orders to satisfy his own dark desires.
Meanwhile, a few kilometers away from the dense forest, the last surviving kid was frantically telling Hanselâwho had found the trembling childâabout the terrifying Wolf that had invaded his home.
The kid sobbed, explaining how, consumed by a paralyzing dread, he had slipped out of the house to spend the night hiding on the freezing street. It was from there, in the dark, that he heard the sickening sounds of tearing fabric and breaking iron frames as the Wolf began ruthlessly dismantling his siblings. The kid had fled in pure terror, and now he was begging Hansel to destroy the monster, knowing the Wolf would surely continue to terrorize the forest and its outskirts.
As the child wept, Hanselâs gaze remained fixed on his investigation board. To any outsider, the board seemed to track an entirely different, unrelated case. But suddenly, a brutal realization struck the scarecrow's mind.
A traitor to the motherland, executed in 1944. His son, born in 1935. The arson of the executed man's family home by three young thugs in the early 1950s. The cold-blooded murder of all three delinquents in that very same year. Then, a long, bloody string of crimes spreading across different parts of the United Kingdomâthe desperate, violent trail of a traitor's son on the run. And finally, the complete and sudden disappearance of any criminal traces in the 1960s.
The thought that flashed through his mind refused to leave him. The kid's frantic description of the Wolf and the hard data from Hansel's own investigation shared far too many chilling similarities. It led him to a single, undeniable conclusion: Owen Domoretsky, once a fugitive stray dog, had now transformed into the Big Bad Wolf. And the monster had just made his presence known again.
Hansel was already constructing a hunting plan in his mind. The mixture of sawdust and straw inside his burlap head was working surprisingly fast.
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