The fanged dog

It was not long after dark, the sun barely set, the night still young and the moon already flooding the earth in its white radiance.

As the night noises started to rise, and the creatures of day started to settle for sleep, a cloaked figure was busy at a grave, digging to the bottom.

To the passer by an undertaker hard at work, to the undertaker unknown, no one there knew what was going down, accept the figure who slowly dug deep south in order to unearth a cadaver.

The figure produced a sigh, then a chuckle "Good work wolf... Now you are free, but as your ordeal comes to an end dear Belladonna, another chapter opens up, canines shut, and wide is the gaping mouth baring fangs"

The figure struck the dirt again and let out another slow laugh "It reminds me of poor Sultan, in brothers Grimm, old Sultan had to go..."