I hid behind a tree when I could clearly hear the voices. When I peeked around the tree, I was shocked to learn that one of the voices belonged to an ...gly brown wolf. Wolves don't talk do they? I would have ran away screaming except I learned that the second voice belonged to pretty blonde wearing a red hood who was at least twenty years old. Her beauty attracted me so I decided to listen for a while."Who is that basket for?" the mean wolf asked."It-it is for my Grandma," the woman shyly. It came as clean as possible and luckily her tights had prevented any grit and dirt infiltrating her wound. All the time, my eyes were trailing from the source of her pain, up her slender thighs to the neat clutch of cotton at her crotch. She managed, as women do to keep her knees tightly together and splay her lower limbs for me to administer a dressing and then a bandage to keep it in place. Awkward on very active joint. While I was doing my medic bit Jenny would tense up and wince, clutching. More

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