Hello Faithful Readers!

This is a Fairy Tale Retelling of a well-known story, which I won't reveal, because I feel it should be easy to see. Also, there are other Fairy Tale Easter Eggs, hidden in the story. Name the Fairy Tale this is retelling, and the tales mentioned, and I shall give you all three updates for A Purrfect Disaster. Before Christmas.

Enjoy!

11/19/14

Grimms Fairy Tale Seminar

Winterbane

By Michaela Baca

There once was a she-wolf, as white as winter snow, who lived in a thick, dark forest. She had a mate, who was blacker than the sky at midnight. They had pups long ago, but when the winter approached, there wasn't enough food to feed them. The snowy she-wolf had one day sent her mate out to look for anything to eat, but he never returned. One by one, the pups perished, save for one, who was scrawny, and wore grey and white markings on his fur. He was surprisingly strong for the runt of the litter, and helped his mother survive the cold by finding a kind, miniature man, who lived on the edge of the woods.

This little man was a bit odd, and kept to himself before, being shunned by other men and even women. However, he did enjoy the company of his new wolf friends. They hunted together, ate together, and all slept within the little man's cottage. There had been news of a baby coming into the home, but the odd man, too, vanished, just as the she-wolf's mate had.

So the she-wolf and her pup, whom she called Winterbane, moved on. They trekked for many years, encountering deviants of the human world who helped them on their way. They met a sorceress, who met a grizzly fate of falling from a great tower; an old woman who, because of her treachery, witchcraft, and poisonous gifts , had to dance until she died; and a huntsman, who killed himself soon after, leaving a note to the wolves confessing his part in murdering a wolf some time ago. The she-wolf and her pup could never stay in one place for too long, but they found their way.

When Winterbane celebrated his fifth winter, the pair came upon a cottage deep within their own forest. Smelling something irresistible, and desperate for food, the she-wolf crept up the stairs and scratched at the door. When no one answered, she scratched the door again. The door gave way, and swung open. When she slowly looked inside, she found there was no one there. She called for her pup, but he shook his head. There was something he did not like about this place, something that made his fur stand on end. The she-wolf beckoned again, and Winterbane again refused to go.

Hungry to the point of pain, the she-wolf entered the cottage. There was a bounty of food to be found. Every kind of meat could be found hanging on the walls or from the ceiling: turkey, quail, venison, beef, pork, even what looked like thick, fat snakes, all skinned, chopped, and roasted. The aroma was so incredibly intoxicating that even cautious, careful Winterbane could smell them from the open door. The warmth from the burning hearth also tempted the pup to venture inside, but Winterbane could not bring himself to go forth and follow his mother. Something just did not sit right with this cottage, so far away from other human settlements. Its outer walls were worn, weathered, and aged, from poor care and constant battles against the seasons. The powerful smell of meat, though greatly tempting, was a warning to Winterbane; perhaps another huntsman lived here, one who would not be as kind as their friend had once been.

The grey and white wolf took refuge under the layers of snow that had appeared throughout the day, and settled in to wait for his mother's return. His coat blended in well with the snow and the shadows, as the evening came about. The she-wolf, inside the cottage, ate a hunk of roast, a leg of venison, and two fat snakes before collapsing, satisfied, on the warm cottage floor.

Sometime later, Winterbane heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow. He discretely looked up, and saw a cloaked figure enter the cottage. There was a loud yelp, the sound of wood breaking, a loud crack, and then silence. Winterbane, fearful for his mother's life, rushed into the cottage. The main room, filled with meats still hanging or ravaged on the floor, had a broken wooden chair in the middle. He spotted a curtain, which separated the room he was in from another part of the cottage. Slowly, he pulled back the curtain, and there stood a young woman. She held in her other hand Winterbane's mother, by the neck, which was bent at a strange, unnatural angle. The woman had a crazy, feral look in her eyes, to match her unkempt, uncut hair, her ragged, deer-skin clothes, and her dingy, dirt-covered skin. She smiled wildly, elated at finding not one wolf, but two.

"Pretty, pretty, soft wolf skin, come my pet and join your kin," she crooned, walking closer to the pup. Winterbane growled, and the woman hesitated. What he could see behind the wild woman, filling the room they were in, disturbed him and filled his heart with fear. There were skins, everywhere, on the walls, floors, and furniture. They were the skins of deer, of cows, of badgers, and foxes. But what frightened him worst of all was the enormous amount of wolf skins. And covering the bed in the very center of the room was a mighty wolf pelt, black as the midnight sky.

Winterbane did not want to fight this insane human and lose his own life, so he turned around and ran as fast as he could away from the cottage, his dead mother, and the woman. He ran, ran, ran, until his tired legs could carry him no more. He dug into the snow and hid himself again, and slept restlessly through the night, haunted by his loss.

Winterbane woke the next morning with a broken heart, knowing he could never again see his mother. This anguish turned to righteous fury as he hunted whatever he could find to regain his strength. There was no way the wild woman would get away with killing his mother, his life giver, his teacher. She would pay. Winterbane hatched a plan to get the woman back, and that night, he returned to the cottage. He checked to make sure the woman was not home before setting up. He gathered loads sticks, branches, and leaves from around him, and set them around the cottage. He then broke into the home and stole the tools he needed for the final act of his plan.

Soon after Winterbane hid, the murderer once again returned to her home, dragging behind her deceased foxes caked with blood. The vengeful wolf managed to creep up to the side of the cottage and peered through the windows without being seen. The wild woman skinned the foxes and prepared the meat before heading to bed with the snowy she-wolf's pelt. The wild woman had placed the she-wolf's skin atop the skin of the black wolf, and sung herself to sleep:

"Pretty, pretty, soft wolf skin,

Now this one has joined her kin.

Come now, come now, warm my lap,

I need no more my red cap."

Outraged by the gall of this vile witch, Winterbane took the flint and knife, struck them together, and set the branches and leaves ablaze. He stepped back to safety, and watched the flames burn auburn and bright against the dark winter forest. Soon, the whole cottage was burning, and Winterbane could hear the cries of the woman as she burned alive:

"Pretty, Pretty, cursed wolf skin,

This pup came back for his kin!

I burn, I burn, woe is me,

That wolf out there, strong is he!"

The cries ceased as the woman died, and Winterbane watched the cottage burn until the sun came up and all that remained were cinders. Satisfied, he left that forest and never returned.

Now as far as I know, Winterbane still lives, passing on his story to wolf pups near and far, so they may never make the same mistakes he did, and so they know the dangers of the world. He never tells them to be afraid, though. He teaches them to be strong, to be fierce, and above all, to be aware of the witches in the forest.