The Big Bad Wolf

Chapter One – Waiting for Yoruk

Several days slipped by before Greta, Lisa, and Mildred saw the little green faerie man again. School filled their week with sums and spelling, but their thoughts kept wandering to Yoruk and the questions they had saved for him.

“Do you think he will come back?” Lisa asked as they walked home.

“He promised,” Greta said, though her voice was not quite so certain.

“I want to ask about our birth mother,” Mildred said. “And our father. Where did we live before she died? How did it happen?”

Saturday arrived with a low white sky and a crisp breeze. When Yoruk finally stepped from behind the hawthorn hedge, all green and bright-eyed, the girls ran to him in a flurry of laughter.

“Oh, Yoruk, we thought we might never see you again!” cried Greta.

Yoruk tapped his foot and tried to look severe, though the corners of his mouth were smiling. “I made you a promise to teach you the faerie ways. I intend to keep it.”

“Sorry,” Greta said, and meant it.

“We worried for you,” Mildred added. “Why did you not come sooner?”

“I meant to come the very next day,” Yoruk said softly. “But I was busy.”

“Busy with what?” Lisa asked.

Yoruk glanced up and down the lane as if the hedges might be listening. “Watching the big bad wolf.”

“The big bad wolf?” all three echoed at once.

“As in the fairytale?” Lisa whispered.

“As real as you and me,” Yoruk said, and his bright green eyes grew thoughtful. “He is prowling. He is not content with the old ending. He wants a new one where he blows down straw and wood and brick, and then he dines.”

“That is terrible,” Lisa said.

“He certainly lives up to his name,” Greta muttered.

“Is there anything we can do?” Mildred asked.

Greta and Lisa stared at her. “It is a wolf,” Greta said. “A wolf eats girls.”

“And pigs,” Lisa added.

Mildred looked to Yoruk. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked again.

Yoruk scratched his chin. “Since you ask, yes. But you must all agree.”

The sisters looked at one another, then at Yoruk. “We agree,” they said together. “If you promise to keep us safe.”

“I will keep you as safe as wisdom allows,” Yoruk answered. “Now, open your faerie bags and look inside.”

Chapter Two – A Hop, A Skip, A Jump

Greta peered into her bag and drew back. “I think something moved.”

“Faerie bags hold many things,” Yoruk said. “Do not be afraid. Look again. You will know when you see.”

Greta looked. Her face changed from worry to wonder. “I see a moving picture.”

Lisa and Mildred opened their own bags. At first there was only velvet dark. Then a little film of light stirred across the depth, and the girls saw themselves hold hands with Yoruk, hop once, skip twice, and jump so high that clouds swallowed them whole.

“Are you ready?” Yoruk asked, offering his hands. Greta took one. Mildred took the other. Lisa held Greta’s.

“We hop,” Mildred said, taking a neat little hop.

“We skip,” Greta said, and she skipped.

“And we jump,” Lisa said, and she pulled them all up, up, up.

“Weee,” they cried as the wind sang in their ears. They plunged into the clouds, where breath turned into fog and laughter into mist. Then they burst into open blue and saw a bright land below. Fields and towns lay flat as pages, coloured like picture books, all primary and bold.

“Is that Fairytale Land?” Lisa breathed.

“Go see,” Yoruk said, and they swooped.

 

Chapter Three – The First Little Pig

They landed beyond a cottage made of straw. Its door was straw, its hinges were straw, and even the teapot that steamed on a little straw hob was straw.

“Hello,” the girls called. “Is anyone at home?”

“Who is it?” came a cautious voice.

“Three faerie sisters and a friend,” Yoruk answered. “We have come to pay a call.”

A pig snout poked through the straw door, then widened into a smile. “Come in, then,” said the first little pig.

The parlour was straw. The chairs were straw. The cups were straw. The tea tasted drier than ordinary tea, but it was surprisingly nice.

“We came to warn you,” Lisa said. “The big bad wolf is near.”

The pig wrinkled his snout. “I know that story. It has a happy ending.”

“Not if the wolf changes it,” Yoruk said. “Keep your door shut. If he huffs and puffs, run for your life.”

The pig swallowed and nodded. “I will be careful.”

Chapter Four – The House of Straw

The sisters and Yoruk hovered above the meadow, watching the straw house shimmer in the sunlight. Everything was quiet—too quiet.

Then came a rustle from the lane below. Out from behind the brambles padded a large grey shape with yellow eyes and a snout as long as a broom handle. The Big Bad Wolf.

He stopped at the door and sniffed. “Pig,” he called softly. “Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

The sisters leaned closer, wings trembling.

“Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!” came a small voice from inside.

The wolf’s grin widened. “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!”

He filled his chest with air and blew until the straw quivered. The sisters gasped. He blew again, harder, and the golden roof lifted like a thatch of feathers.

“Run, little pig, run!” cried Mildred.

The pig broke through the back wall and darted across the meadow, squealing for his brother.

The wolf’s last puff sent the rest of the straw swirling into the sky. When the dust settled, there was nothing left but a single straw chair rocking in the wind.

From above, Yoruk said quietly, “Come along, girls. There is another house to visit.”

Chapter Five – The House of Wood

They found a neat little wooden cottage with daisies in a row and a green watering can on the path. The second little pig did not look the least bit worried.

“Come in,” he said cheerfully. “Would you like wooden tea?”

“No, thank you,” the girls said together.

“We came to warn you,” Yoruk said. “The wolf is almost here.”

The pig tapped the wooden wall with a wooden cup. A splinter fell, but he pretended not to notice. “This house is strong as anything,” he said. “My brother’s straw was silly. This is proper wood.”

They talked and warned and pleaded, but the pig would not be shaken. At last they left him to his nails and boards and his brave face.

From the air they saw the wolf come grinning along the lane. He ran his claws over the door and found a crooked nail. He laughed, filled his lungs, and blew until the timbers complained. He blew again. And again. There was a cracking and a splitting and then a clatter as the little house tumbled down in a cloud of dust and splinters.

The pigs were already running.

“To the brick house,” Yoruk said. “Do not lose heart.”

Chapter Six – Bricks at Noon

The third little pig opened his brick door a crack, saw his brothers, and pulled them inside with a firm nod. “You are safe here,” he said. “Bricks do not listen to wolves.”

The wolf arrived soon after. He rapped on the door. He begged. He threatened. He filled his lungs and blew until the slates rattled. The bricks did not mind. He blew again until the chimney pots grumbled. The bricks did not care. At last the wolf glared at the unhelpful house and slunk away over the ridge.

“Is he gone?” Lisa asked.

“For now,” Yoruk answered quietly. “There is something I must tell you. The wolf has another plan.”

“What plan?” Greta said.

“Dynamite,” Yoruk said. “He means to fetch a bag of it.”

The sisters felt suddenly cold and very small.

“Do not despair,” Yoruk said, and tapped the little black bag at his side. “We will help, but the pigs must never know. The story must stand on its own feet.”

Chapter Seven – Dynamite at Dusk

The light was fading when the wolf came back. He swung a duffle bag over one shoulder and whistled as he walked.

“Seventeen sticks,” he muttered, placing them neatly around the house. “Enough to blow the moon from the sky.” He patted his pockets. “Matches. Where are my matches?”

“Here,” said a small voice behind him.

The wolf turned and, without thinking, took the box Greta held out. The match flared a second later and kissed his fingers. He yelped and dropped it, then lunged at the girl who dared to trick him.

Greta slipped aside and reached into her faerie bag. Her fingers closed on a small, ordinary thing.

“A hairclip?” the wolf scoffed. “You plan to clip me into good behaviour?”

Lisa and Mildred flew down to stand by their sister, each with a hand in her own bag. Lisa pulled out a comb. Mildred pulled out a brush.

“The ladies have arrived,” the wolf said, bowing. “How very fashionable.”

Greta slid the clip into her hair. Lisa combed her fair curls once. Mildred stroked her brown hair twice. The air pricked. The girls moved. The world changed.

The wolf lunged. They were not there. He spun, teeth flashing. They were behind him. He scratched and snapped. They were already three steps away.

“How did you do that?” he panted.

“We forgot to mention something,” Lisa said.

“We are faeries,” Greta said.

“And what we take from our faerie bags arrives with enchantment,” Mildred said.

“Speed to keep you from our throats,” Lisa said.

“Lightness to skip past your claws,” Greta said.

“And courage, which we needed most,” Mildred said.

The wolf gathered himself and sprang harder than before. He snatched Lisa mid-step and pressed a claw to her throat. “Throw down your toys,” he growled. “And your bags.”

Greta froze. Her fingers tightened on the strap at her waist.

“Do as he says,” Lisa gasped, though her eyes flicked meaningfully to her own bag. “Do not be foolish.”

Greta and Mildred tossed their bags. The wolf’s grin stretched.

Lisa twisted, wrenched one hand free, and dipped fast into her own bag. Her fingers found something heavy and sure. She swung. Crack.

The wolf saw stars. The truncheon in Lisa’s hand gleamed with a quiet, serious magic.

“Truncheons,” Lisa said. “Check your bags.”

Greta and Mildred scrambled, snatched up their bags, and each found a truncheon waiting for them. Three lengths of fairness. Three lengths of courage.

They stood their ground. The wolf hesitated. His lip curled. Then he bolted for the brick door and shoved his way inside.

Chapter Eight – The Brick Parlour

The pigs squealed and ran in circles. The wolf snapped and laughed and made for the nearest snout. Yoruk dropped through the chimney and landed lightly on the hearth. He did not look pleased.

“We are sorry,” the girls said at once.

“We are here now,” Yoruk said. “Do the work.”

The truncheons rose. The wolf darted left and met Greta’s thwack. He dodged right and met Lisa’s crack. He leapt forward and met Mildred’s firm and final tap that said this nonsense has gone on long enough. He stumbled, yelped, and fled out the door, down the path, and over the ridge without a single backward glance.

“That nasty old wolf is gone,” Lisa said, breathing hard.

“Not ever to bother you again,” Greta added.

“Not ever and ever,” Mildred said, just to be certain.

The pigs peeked from behind the sofa and stared. The sisters tucked their truncheons back into their bags and smiled as if nothing at all had happened. Yoruk folded his arms and raised one eyebrow. The pigs shut the door and slid the bolt.

Chapter Nine – A New Ending

They stood in the lane under a sky that was turning to velvet. Yoruk listened to the wind and then nodded once, as if the air had told him what he needed to hear.

“Will the story still be the story?” Lisa asked. “We interfered.”

“The tale holds,” Yoruk said. “A wolf huffed and puffed. A straw house fell. A wooden house fell. A brick house stood. Help came, quiet and kind, and no pig will ever know who lifted it. That is enough.”

“Where did the wolf find the dynamite?” Greta asked.

“Far from here,” Yoruk said. “And it will be farther by morning.”

Mildred slipped her hand into his. “Thank you for keeping us safe.”

“Thank you for keeping each other safe,” Yoruk said. “That is the better magic.”

They hopped, they skipped, they jumped. Clouds took them in and gave them back to their own lane. The hawthorn hedge rustled. Home smelled of tea and polished spoons. Their mother called them in for supper.

“Will the wolf keep his promise to be good?” Lisa asked as they washed their hands.

“Wolves do not make promises,” Yoruk said softly. “But houses of brick are stubborn, and three faerie sisters are more stubborn still.”

He adjusted his little pointed cap and smiled that mischievous, kindly smile. “Lessons tomorrow,” he said. “For tonight, eat your porridge and sleep.”

The girls giggled. “Porridge, porridge, good for our bones,” they sang quietly, just for themselves.

Outside, the wind grew gentle. Inside, the house felt very warm. Somewhere far off, a tired wolf trudged away from a ridge and decided that pigs were not worth the trouble. And Fairytale Land turned a page and settled into a new ending that still felt very much like the old one, only kinder.

The End.