Once, in a different story, there was a wood and a wolf and a witch and a boy (and another boy but he's not as important) and a prophecy. This is not that story. In this story there was a wood and a wolf and a boy (and the other one, too), but there was no prophecy at all, and whether there was a witch in that wood doesn't come into it much. But there was still the wolf, as well as the sheep, which aren't in either story because the wolf ate them, and the two boys were still young and proud and had more bravery than sense.

The boy entered the wood, and he was afraid, but not daunted, because fear was not a thing that came to him readily, and he had no clear sense of what there might be to fear in the mysterious wood. He did not shrink away from rumors of witches and strange dangers, though he believed them more readily than most. He did not expect anything to actually happen when he set up the inexpert trap. He was merely proving himself to his cousin and enjoying the excitement of disobedience and risk.

But the wolf was there, and the boys ran, but the wolf was faster.

The boy stopped. He knew that they could not outrun the wolf, so he picked up a stick and told his cousin to run. He had brought them here to begin with, and he was the clan chieftain's son. It was his job to protect.

He looked his enemy in the eye and he charged.

The battle between wolf and boy was short, and the wolf won.

Hours later, the boy woke up with blood all around him and his clothes torn to shreds, but not a scratch on him. It was a strange thing to happen, but it was a strange wood. So the boy returned home and told tall tales of his fight with the wolf, and wondered what price he would have to pay.