The wolf watched from through the trees. A spongy grassed glade sparkling with mystic dew held a small well at the center. The wolf didn’t make a sound as he settled on his haunches to watch the girl.

She was chanting softly under her breath, but the wolf could hear all the mistakes. Snot and tears stained the lapels of her cloak. The wolf wrinkled his nose as she made another mistake. Even he knew the spells were all wrong.

He must’ve let out a rumbling growl of discontent, because her eyes turned to him and went wide. She didn’t smell of fear, so he padded into the clearing. She held out her hand, damp with tears and desperately seeking comfort.

The wolf pushed his head into it. He took her hand in his mouth, softly, until she realized, and followed him into the woods, away from the wishing well.