The first blow from the axe was the woodsman’s…a large gash down the beast’s side and gut. With a yelp and a whirl of fur and fangs it turned about… just then from the gash spilled some of its last undigested meal. A hand could be seen with a ring, grandmother’s ring, something inside Red snapped at that moment. Although she was a small girl, she found a strength inside her she had never felt before…pushing aside the woodsman, taking up his axe for her own she began swinging wildly. The wounded wolf trying to get away as blow after blow landed on its bloodied body. The woodsman trying desperately to calm the girl careened back with a mortal wound to the neck. No more would this girl shy away from terror again… no this was the turning point… from now on the wolves of the world (those with and without fur) would have to fear her… yes no longer would she live in fear… the beast lie dead at her feet but something of the beast was now inside her. A gurgling woodsman lay in the corner…soaked in blood, his axe was now hers and she would take it up time and again.
Killing was a justified end to a means… and she meant to do some killing!
Drawing is the honesty of the art. There is no possiblity of cheating. it is either good or bad. ~ Dali