Captain’s Logos

The wolf was taking a nap underneath a fallen Birch tree when he heard a snap. Although his eyes shot wide open, the rest of his body remained completely motionless, and his breathing quickened. After a few seconds of perfect stillness, the wolf roused himself and put his nose into the air, sniffed three times and shook the snow out of his fur.

He smelled them coming down the path, thirty or forty tree lengths away (wolves measure distance by the length of a fully grown Birch tree) making enough racket to wake up the whole forest, five little pink piggies walking in a row.

"Just what I needed," growled the wolf. "A bunch of kids running around playing Indian, scaring off all my dinner." The wolf didn't like people much, he didn't like children most of all. His fur bristled at the thought of their pink naked skin, walking around on their hind legs like it mattered, a ridiculous patch of hair covering their head and that's it.

"Hmphh." thought the wolf as he snorted in their general direction. He walked in a tight circle several times, trodding down the ground for his bed. He eventually curled his way down and laid his head on his paws hoping to get a bit of rest before the sun went down, and he could try to scrounge up a meal. He watched the group of campers pass him by, unknowing as they were of his solitary spot.

As his eyes began to droop, he watched as the last little piggie making his way down the hill, an especially plump looking one, slipped on a rock and slammed all four paws into the ground at once. He noticed it took him a little while longer to get up than he thought it might.

"Hmmm." thought the wolf.