|The Little Goats|
|Summary:||In which Saffron tells the tale of The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats.|
|Date:||03 June 2012|
|Related Logs:||The Picnic Storyline|
This tale has been adapted from "The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats" from the Brothers Grimm.
Once upon a time, there lived an old mother goat and her seven little kids just beyond the great woods. Winter had come, starving the land of its grain and freezing the rivers solid. They had been hungry for days, their bellies aching as the last of their food stores disappeared. The mother goat, who loved her children as dearly as all mothers should, decided that their hunger could not last and that she should venture into the woods and forage for food. She told her dear little kids that she would not be gone long.
"I'm going off into the woods," she said, "so you must all watch out for the wolf. Should you let him in, he will gobble you up! You will recognize him by his gruff voice and coal-black feet."
"Yes, Mother Dearest," her kids did reply, "You don't have to worry about us!"
And so, the mother goat went into the woods, sated that her children would be safe.
She was gone hardly an hour before they came a little knock at the door. "Open the door, my dearest ones. Mother has returned with something for each of you."
The eldest kid pressed her ear to the door, and heard the gruffness in the stranger's voice. "You are not our mother, how stupid do you think we are! Our mother's voice is so very sweet. You are the wolf!"
The wolf was not so easily defeated. He retreated to the woods and there dug up a bit of chalk stone. He ate it all up, and the chalk softened his voice. He returned to the little goats' door and knocked again. "Open the door, my dearest ones. Mother has returned with something for each of you."
The second eldest kid peeked under the door and spied the wolf's sooty paws. "You are not our mother, how stupid do you think we are! Out mother's feet are white and fluffy. You are the wolf!"
Again, the wolf was not going to give up! He retreated into the woods and found there lichen moss as soft and white as clouds. He fastened it around his paws. Back to the little goats' door he went, and knocked for them to open. "My dearest ones, open the door. Mother has returned with something for each of you."
The third eldest kid shouted through the door: "Show us your paws so that we will know you are our mother dearest!" The fourth eldest kid peeked under the door as the wolf showed off his white, fluffy feet. They cheered together as it was their mother, home at last with food for each of them.
But, when they opened the door, they saw not their mother, but the wolf! He swarmed into the house, and all the little goats tried to hide — under tables, behind curtains, under the stairs, everywhere! The youngest little kid hid inside one of the empty potato sacks. The wolf found them all, save for the youngest, and made short work of them! He gobbled them up, one after the other, without even stopping to chew. His stomach was huge now, bulbous and lumpy with the bodies of the six little goats.
His desires now sated, he fled back into the woods.
Soon after, the old mother goat returned to find the door open and the house empty. She called their names over and over again, and just as soon as she began to feel panic, she heard the little cries from the kid in the potato sack. "It was the wolf!" the little one cried. "He ate them all!" The mother asked her kid where the wolf had gone, and she answered in a wail, "Back into the woods!"
With her youngest in tow, the mother goat chased into the woods knowing where the filthy scoundrel would be resting after such a large meal. They found him beneath a giant tree, though the winter snows had replaced where the leaves had been. He rested there, sprawled on his back, his belly turned to the sky. As the mother goat watched him, she saw to her dismay that his stomach squirmed and moved. She realized then that her children were still alive within his gut!
As the wolf slept so deeply that when the mother goat crept up and began to cut her children out of his belly, he did not wake! He did not wake as she pulled them out one by one, nor when she filled his belly with stones. She sewed his stomach up tight and took her poor little kids to hide in the woods to watch. Soon the wolf woke from his blissful nap, unaware that the weight in his gut was no longer those succulent little goats.
"So thirsty I am," said the wolf, "after all that feasting." And so he wandered to the near by hot spring to whet his lips on the bubbling water. As he leaned over the scalding pool, out sprung the youngest of the little goats! She charged him and kicked him into the water with a firm strike of her hooves. He yelped in surprise, and the rocks in his belly caused him to topple over with ease. He landed in the water with a splash, and it boiled him dead as the rocks dragged him under.
"The wolf is dead!" the little goats cried, and they danced for joy in the snow.