It was a bitter cold night. The villagers sat awake in their respective houses. Fires were lit, but no matter how much wood was added to the fireplace, the bitter chill would not be defeated. It was a generally clear night, however every so often dark clouds masked the sky so that sleepless villagers could not see even the front of their closest neighbours’ houses. Rio was a typically smart villager, but was struggling to keep the embers of his fire burning, given the leaves and twigs they had quickly gathered before nightfall. On the floor lay some unread books about Pi, Lord of the Rings and the New Testament, littered with notes. Above the fireplace, on a hook, hung a cauldron filled with water and teabags, where they had naively tried to make some of their beloved brew. It was no use. As they sadly turned to head upstairs, they heard a light tapping at the door. “Get back! I’ve got a weapon” shouted Rio. “It’s just me”, said their neighbour. “It’s such a cold night, and I saw from your chimney that your fire wasn’t burning. I brought some firewood.” Rio opened the door tentatively as they recognised the human face. As the door opened, the clouds moved and the moonlight shone on the new guest. They didn’t even have time to register the hair, the teeth, the smell. There was a sharp and violent slash of claws across their throat, and they collapsed onto the floor. There was a brief gurgling sound, and then silence. Rio was Good. Across the village another wolf was heading towards a target. They arrived at London’s house with unnatural speed, saliva frothing at the corner of their mouth. London was cooking sausages over his stove when the wolf arrived, and the hissing gave just enough background noise for the wolf to crack open window. The wolf snuck behind London, and in a fit of hunger smacked London down to the floor and devoured the sausages. Now slightly satisfied, they ripped out London’s middle while they screamed, pinched their intestines together like a ring of sausages, and stretched them around London’s neck. London, near death now, was hung up by their own innards, from the kitchen chandelier. The wolf looked exceptionally pleased with himself and turned to go. “I knew who you were” said the head, choking voice behind him. I wanted to help you and the others” “What! No!! Who were the others???” London opened his mouth for a second, then closed it for the last time and was still. London was Evil Meanwhile the Guardian stood guard outside Tokyo’s house. There were no visitors that evening.