Martina was always a good cat. She knew it from the way her owner scratched her head, let her curl up next to her by the fire, the way Martina's purring made her smile. She knew by the way that, when her owner's granddaughter would visit, she would always bring a carafe of milk and fresh fish for her. She knew by the way her wonder never seemed disgusted by the birds she dragged in - Günther, the cat from down the lane said that he would get scolded for doing the same. And so, Martina had thought of herself as a very lucky cat.

That was until the wolf entered. Martina had never been taught to fear wolves, but she thought them just oversized dogs, and disturbingly unnerved by her hissing. And so, she hid under the table until the smell went away - and it never did. When she emerged, it was dark out. Where was her owner? Where was her granddaughter, who was supposed to come before sunset?

Martina had to find out.