Winter 1990 – Where the Wolves are Red and the Foxes are Black

The little girl flashed a gap toothed smile. She patted the fur of the wolf skin. She said, “I killed him myself. Stupid wolfs. He kept trying to eat me. I don’t know why. I sure that squirrels taste better than me. I had bites all over. It hurt. Apa would try to catch him but he was faster and hid better. I gots tired of it. So I ‘cided to chase him. I got fingers. I got smarts. I got swords and knives and axes and clubs and I throws hard and fast. We friend now that he a hat.”