The Red Wolf

Slowly they creep in, The evil burning through the night. The crickets sound the alarm, Feet trampling grass as they run. Owls turn a blind eye, They fear for the outcome. The caves swarmed with bats, The essence draws near. Into the night they fly, The last catch of the day sneaks away. Holwing voices and red eyes peer, Footsteps approaching slowly. The eyes vanish, A slight growl enters their courage. Trembling hands and sweaty feet. Like a theif it takes and goes, They fall to the ground. Screaming ruptures the silence, The beast confronts. She stands her ground. A clutched axe, Her last resort. A deep growl at her feet. Those red eyes peer up, Hints of sadness and pain linger. Kneeling down she calms it, Her hands filled with reassurance. She stands, The beast but a memory. She turns keenly, Observant of the carnage. Hunters all around her, Their remains a bloody pulp. There was never a beast to hunt, The rumored wolf was an illusion. She grins with pleasure, Fangs soaked with red. She throws up her hood, Another town is soon to suffer. Who is she? She is the demon, She is the wolf, She is Red Riding Hood.