The Wolf at the Door
It wasn’t long after Wilhelm had gone to bed that he heard the crack of gunfire, and only seconds later a loud thump on his front door. Reluctantly he threw the covers off and stepped onto the bare floorboards, shivering against the chill of the night as he reached for his dressing gown. Aided by the moonlight that streamed in through the unadorned windows of his small cottage, Wilhelm navigated the stairs to the front door.
“Who’s there?” he called, his ears pricked for the reply.
Yet although he knew very well that there was someone on the other side of the wooden door, there came no answer.
Wilhelm lifted the latch carefully and slowly, opening the door by small fractions at a time. At once his eyes found the whimpering pile of black fur, trembling and bleeding
