"Are you sure we are on the right path?" Charles asked Edmund, gripping his spear tight. Edmund nodded.
"Definitely," he said, his eyes searching the woods. Night had fallen and the only light was that from the full moon.
"Then where's the wolf?"
As if on queue, a howl tore through the silent night. Edmund gripped his axe tighter, brandishing it like a sword. The howl came again, this time louder, and a wolf leapt out from within the trees. It was all black, and twice the size of a normal wolf. It growled and leapt at Charles, snapping his spear and striking him to the ground. Edmund swung his axe, and it embedded itself in the wolf's chest. It yowled in pain, stumbling to the side, red blood spurting from the wound. Edmund retrieved his axe from its chest as all the other hunters congratulated him.
"Citizens of Whiteridge," he addressed the others. "The wolf has been defeated!"
From that day on, Rose Guadalupe was never seen again. Edmund the Huntsman returned that night with the wolf's head, holding it proudly like a trophy. Rose's mother was among those who greeted Edmund upon his return, and was the only one who fainted at the sight of the wolf's human, ice blue eyes.
And that's the end of the story! They didn't live happily ever after after all...
And I'd just like to wish a BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE AMAZING MISHA COLLINS!!! I know it has absolutely nothing to do with this story but, oh well.
Lots o' love,