I remember what it was like to be a tiny, little lamb. Everybody adored me. They’d cuddle with me. Children would feed me grass they’d just picked from across the fence.
Then, one day, a little boy pointed out to his Mommy that I wasn’t a tiny, little lamb after all. He told his Mommy that I may’ve been dressed in sheep’s clothing, but that didn’t make me a lamb.
From that point on, everybody hated me. No more cuddles for me. No more grass feeds for me. Farmers started campaigning to be allowed to kill me.
But I still feel like that tiny, little lamb. How tragic it is to be a wolf in an identity crisis.
This post was written for Twiglet #326, which is “to be a wolf”.
A Multitude of Musings 
What a marvellous twist on the expected. I very much enjoyed reading it.
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Thanks so much!
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Excellent 🩷
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Aw, thank you.
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I enjoyed the twist in this tale. Nicely done.
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Thank you so much!
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Oh wow! A profound story Astrid.
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Ah, thanks so much.
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You’re welcome
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