said Fang as Lucie entered the kitchen next morning. “Oh good,” said Lucie. “You are real, after all.” Fang yawned. “Of course I’m real. Where are your parents?” “Oh, they always sleep late on Sundays. I hope you were comfortable? The floor is rather hard.” “No matter,” said Fang. “A snow-covered forest is no feather bed, I can tell you. It does no good for a wolf to get soft. And now do you think you could find me something to eat? I don’t mean to be rude, but that stuff your father gave me is quite inedible!” And she growled, to show just what she thought of the vegetarian dog food. “I suppose you like meat?” “I do,” said Fang. “Something like a haunch of venison would go down nicely.” “I don’t think we have a haunch of venison,” said Lucie. “Dad doesn’t eat meat. Mum and me do, but we mainly eat things like sausages.”
