Toad Words Read Online Free Page B

of god, will you just go?”  
    It was his death she was warning him away from, Turtle thought, and he didn’t seem to be listening.
    In fact, he was staring at something by the foot of the bed.  
    “What is that?”
    Turtle slithered around to the keyhole. Had the wolf’s tail popped out? What was he seeing?
    “What?” asked Grandmother, and for the first time, Turtle could hear the fear in her voice. She craned her neck to one side, trying to see what the woodsman was looking at. Her left eye ached from not blinking.
    It was the basket of muffins.  
    “Someone’s been here,” said the woodsman.   His voice was thick and choked. “Someone else came here. We talked about this…”
    “It was one of my grandchildren,” said Grandmother wearily. “And you are a fool. I will see whoever I wish in my own house. Leave now, and don’t bother me again.”  
    She knows he won’t do it, Turtle thought. She wouldn’t sound so tired if she didn’t.  
    The woodsman stepped toward the bed. His face had gone red and blotchy. The straw mattress rustled a little as the wolf shifted his weight.  
    “We talked about this,” the woodsman said again, sounding almost plaintive, standing beside the bed.   Turtle thought that surely he must see through the disguise, surely the shape of the ears must be wrong or a tuft of gray fur would show through, something.
    He lifted his axe over his head.
    “Fool,” said Grandmother under the bed, with the finality of a death sentence.
    The wolf erupted from the quilt.  
    For Turtle, watching through the keyhole, there was only a blur of grey and a flash of the orange quilt and a horrible yell that turned into a gurgle that turned into nothing at all. The woodsman’s body came crashing down. The wolf gave a muffled yelp and a snarl and the metal axe-blade clattered across the floor.  
    And then there was no sound at all.  
    Turtle flung the wardrobe door open, heedless of the very strict orders, and saw the wolf crouched atop the woodsman’s chest, his teeth still buried in the man’s throat. The orange quilt was splashed with blood, sodden with it, a color that matched the orange rather regrettably well.  
    “Well,” said Grandmother, surveying the scene, “that quilt’s had it.”  
    Turtle nodded.
    The wolf let go. Turtle very deliberately did not look at what he had done to the woodsman’s neck.  
    “Are you hurt, my friend?” asked Grandmother.
    The wolf licked at his shoulder briefly. “Hardly at all. He dropped his axe on me. It will heal.”  
    Grandmother pulled the quilt the rest of the way off the bed. “Well. I suppose…I suppose we should…”  
    She put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “I am sorry, my friend,” she said. “I do not seem to be able to think right now.”
    The wolf nodded. “Help me roll him onto the quilt,” he said. “The cub and I will see to the body. You should rest.”  
    “And have more tea,” said Turtle firmly.
    “Yes,” said Grandmother after a moment. “Yes. You are both right.” She spread the quilt next to the dead man and grabbed his shoulder. Her eyes were averted and stared at a blank spot on the wall.  
    The wolf, with dexterous teeth, grabbed the woodsman’s clothing, and they rolled him face down onto the quilt. Grandmother pulled the far end over the top of him.
    “I think that is all that I can do,” she said. Her lips were very white.  
    “It is all that needs to be done,” said the wolf. “Rest. When you are done resting, clean your den.”
    “You’ll have to stain the boards,” said Turtle practically. “With walnut juice or something. You’ll never get all this blood up. When Father killed the white rooster and it got inside the back door without its head, we had to stain with walnut.”
    The wolf made a noise that in a human might have been a cough.
    “Thank you, Turtle,” said Grandmother dryly. “I will take that under advisement.” A little bit of color crept