Grandma

"We need to roll up," he said quietly. "How many?" she asked. "Four of us," he replied. "You come on by," she whispered. "Any time." A car showed up outside of the house about an hour later, young folks tumbling out (way more than four), long legs folding out of the dark sedan, stepping over each other, exiting the vehicle and heading up the sidewalk looking sideways. "Well, hello! Come in!" Grandma said, touching of each of them (on the shoulder or the forearm). You had to touch these skinny, hungry animals to put your scent on them and make yourself a friend of the pack. She nudged them to the living room and, of course, she'd started dinner instantly, so the smells of bread and chicken and cookies were taking down the edges ... making them silly and sweet. "Have a warm drink," Grandma said first, bringing some mugs out on a tray, "it's been a cold day." There were sweet rolls on the tray, too, and they were gone in less than fifteen seconds. "You need any help, Grandma?" Red asked, his eyes apologetic (that he'd gotten the number so wrong). "Nah," she grinned at him, and reached out to touch his shoulder. "I've got this; you go turn the game on and relax with your friends." And the warmth and the food and the laughter distracted the wolves, made them sleepy and slow, and kept them safe in the little cottage on a night where so much could have and might have gone wrong.