A giant wolf wanted to join the merrymaking and the beautiful creatures realised it too late. The wolf approached the festive crowd, hurled them into the air, lunged at their necks. Dahlia covered her mouth. She was witnessing a massacre. Blood flowed from shredded flesh but the faces retained their smiles.

Beautiful heads were liberated from bodies. They sprawled behind the leaves, were flung to the treetops, bounced along the paths. Perfect faces that smiled until death.

Now she doubted whether they were ever alive.

Dahlia dared not leave her hiding place. Silence had taken hold of the night. The screaming had stopped. All were dead.

The giant wolf, however, remained. It began to sniff out Dahlia, the only being left from the massacre. The night was so still. The only sounds were her breath and that of the wolf. The eyes of the great beast cast around. Dahlia retreated slowly. She tried to recall where the red door was.

She would run to it, open it, then slam it shut, never to return.

There had to be something that would distract the wolf. She wished another creature in the thicket would arouse the monster’s desire, so she could run as fast as she could. But the party had ended. Only she and the predator were left.

Dahlia remembered an old trick, her last hope. Yes, she would throw a pebble as far as possible. Then she would dart away.

One.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up a pebble. Careful, careful.

Two.

Grasping the pebble, she waited a moment. She would have to be swift and precise.

Now was the time.

Three!

She threw the pebble and sprinted away with all the speed she could muster.

Over ditches and barbed hedges. The grasses were like wildfire that singed and stung her legs. Soon… soon a door would appear.

The door was near the well.

But which one? She found one well, then another, and another. She had to find the well that reflected the shadow of a woman with deep eyes.

Her knees had gone numb but she kept running. The wolf’s fury could be felt so near, its breath on her ears. Soon. Soon there will be…

A red door… No door!

The door wasn’t there. She had merely circled back to her starting point. Here was where the party had been. Here, too, the party had ended. She couldn’t escape; the master of the house liked her scent.

She whirled around. The wolf loomed in front of her, its eyes full of embers and boring into her. Its fangs glittered.

At that moment came the sensation. A comet that had flown off for just a fraction of a second and made her gasp. The feeling when a car almost skids off into a ravine on a sharp curve. Resisting. Crashing. Eyes closing. But then–

Release.