Pilotte sniffed around the big blue garbage bin fruitlessly. It was locked tight, and reinforced, so there was no way he could get inside to the sweet refuse from the butcher's shop across the street. Couldn't there be just a bit, some tiny fatty morsel that the butcher didn't get all the way into the bin? The wulf was so terribly hungry, he could hear his stomach calling out. Why'd the butcher have to be so clean and tidy, anyways?
Some of the neighborhood children had spotted Pilotte, and were shouting things at him from their hiding space safely up a tree, not twenty feet from the hapless wulf. An animal that would tower over most adults was not something they had ever seen before. Pilotte knew he looked like a monster to the children, and that he shouldn't be in the city, but was so hungry he didn't care. His long trip from home, from where he had been stolen by hunters as a puppy, had found him in less hospitable situations that this.
"Look, look at his teeth! Look at the big, dumb dog!" one of the children shouted.
"Quiet, he'll hear you and eat you up!" said another.
But Pilotte would never eat a human child. He had tried human before, and it was disgusting. How he hoped for some cow instead, or blatterboq. Maybe if he could knock the bin over, Pilotte thought. He stood up and threw his enourmous weight forward, but the bin didn't budge.
"Hey! Ugly!" one of the children shouted, but from very near the wulf now, which startled Pilotte and made him turn around quickly.
"Mooney, careful! Get back here, he'll kill you!" shouted one of the children still up in the tree.
"He's an idiot," said the bold child facing the wulf. He stepped closer to Pilotte and shouted, "aren't you? A big idiot?"
Pilotte looked mournfully at the boy and started to turn away. The bin wasn't going to open, there wasn't any food to be had. Perhaps on the next block, he thought, as his tail sank between his huge back legs.
"Hey! Come back here, idiot!" the boy shouted. He picked up a small stone and threw it at the wulf.
Pilotte felt the stone hit his back with a smack. It didn't hurt, but it surprised him. Pilotte couldn't help his fear or his anger most of the time, and getting hit with the stone evoked both in him.
"Rrrraaaaawwwr!" the wulf shouted, instinctually gnashing his huge teeth at the boy when he did so.
At this, the formerly brave boy screamed and threw himself on the ground.
"No, no, no! Help! He's going to kill me!" the boy cried, over and over, with his hands over his ears and his legs kicking wildly.
This, with the added cacophony of his friends in the tree screaming their lungs out, must have attracted the attention of the butcher, who popped his head out of his shop to see what the commotion was about, then disappeared, only to reappear again, carrying a tin bucket. Pilotte was terribly scared, with all the noise of the children and the angry shouts of the butcher filling the unfamiliar alleyway with anger and tension. The big wulf didn't know where to go: he didn't want to scare the awful little boy any further, he didn't want to attract any more panicked citizens, but he was deep in the city and there was no easy escape.
"You animal! Leave them alone!" the butcher screamed. And then, much to Pilotte's initial alarm, the butcher began tossing huge handfuls of fat and meat, far off and away from the trash bin and the crying bully, to try and steer the wulf away. Pilotte was happy to be steered.
"He's just hungry, that's all," the butcher said, as he emptied his bucket. "Whatever he is."
The treats kept coming for Pilotte, bloody bits of offal soaring through the air like gifts from the gods. He made a game of grabbing them before they hit the ground, while the children scrambled out of the alley. His bait depleted, the butcher ran back to his shop, slammed the door, and then Pilotte was alone.
What fortune! A full stomach. Pilotte knew that taking bratty children as hostages was not a dependable way to go about getting fed, and his having done so today was certainly unintentional. And whatever the circumstance, it felt good to eat. Satisfied, the wulf left the alley to sniff out a good hiding spot for the night.