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Bedtime Stories

From the moment Ewa opened her eyes to the world, she had been trying to make sense of everything around her. But time didn’t pass for her the way it did for other kids. She blinked once, then again… and suddenly, she had grown up.

There was an old story, long before Ewa’s fears even had names, before her fears turned into her gods, when the monsters under her bed were just shadows with no faces… a story about a wolf.

This wolf lived deep in an endless forest. He didn’t howl with the others, didn’t join the hunts, didn’t sleep curled up in warmth. He watched everything from a distance…not because he was cruel, not because he didn’t feel anything, but because he felt way too much. He had taught himself to live quietly, to carry himself, to step carefully, as if even the slightest movement might shatter something he could never fix.

Then one day, the wolf saw a little girl walking alone in the forest. She wore a red hood. But the wolf didn’t attack her. He didn’t tear her apart. He didn’t swallow her whole. He just noticed the small, heavy basket she was struggling to carry and, with his strong teeth, lifted it gently to help her. He encouraged her to go play with the other children. He warned her about the dangers lurking in the woods.

Together, they began a journey to bring food to her grandmother. And the walk was long… so long they crossed mountains and rivers, wandered through silence and storm. And the little girl and the wolf kept walking until the road itself became their home. Side by side, through forests and skies… and they lived happily ever after, on the road.