"Sorry Grandma," Little Red said.
She gazed at the sleeping wolf for a little longer, then brought the axe squarely down on its neck.
"But I want the inheritance."
Then Little Red stepped out of the house in the woods, threw her head back, and screamed. The woodcutter who had spotted her walking along the trail with her basket full of baked treats came running. She cried prettily for him, and he held her, comforted her.
As soon as the funeral was done and the will was probated, Little Red split the proceeds with her mother.
None of the wolves on the edge of the forest ever came near Little Red again.
(112 words)
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