"An infection.

That's what it was.

That's what it had to be.

A sickness, a disease born of the beast's cursed blood...

...or at least that's what her grandmother had said. Not that she blamed her!

Dear sweet child that she was!

How could she? It wasn't really her fault! Certainly not! It was simply instinctual! A thoughtless knee-jerk act of self-defense. It was just a fluke! Happenstance really...

...but it did happen. The blood of the fowl beast, that toxic brew that once coursed through that beast's malignant veins had mingled with the child's.

His curse, his shame was now her granddaughter's. What, she wondered was to become of the dear child? What would happen to her beloved "little Red", the child who was now the wolf...