As a child, Masha would walk through the woods to deliver bread and food to her. She'd make sure not to stray from the barely trodden path, though her curious young eyes would look to the sides with longing. Sometimes she'd feel movement as small waves of energy hitting her before hearing the animals run away. But always she knew, as told by all the good villagers, that a wolf was always watching... When she'd reached the house in the woods, her babushka would tell Masha her otherworldly gifts meant she was to be the next Huntress, and an even stronger one. Masha would listen in awe, her eyes widening and her tiny legs fidgeting as her babushka showed her the tools of the trade. The very ones she knew rested in that dark chestnut wardrobe.

Masha gulped and took a few shaky steps towards it. She grabbed the smooth handles and peaked inside its cavity, smirking at what she found. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in loudly through her nose. Then, ready as ever, her anger burning as bright as her thrill, Masha flung the doors opened. There hung the magnificent axe, made of the purest silver, designed in a style reminiscent of the caress of the wind in summer, with intricate relief details, and a thick handle of gold. But she didn't go for it first. No. She admired the coat next to it. Its wolf fur gleaming and imposing; the symbol of the Huntress's might and sacred role. 

Babushka.

Masha reverently took the coat off its hangers, then slid into it. She shrugged, claiming it as her own. Then, like the child who listened to babushka, Masha grabbed the axe and stared at it, gaping. It was cool in her hands, but it was heavy with meaning and history.

Nodding at her martyred babushka, she stomped her way out of the Huntress's house.

She stopped right on the veranda, her senses picking upon danger. Some creature was lurking nearby. Too much so...

A dark-haired, bulky man with a wicked smile stepped out of the woods. One footstep, two footsteps. They held each other's strong gaze, defying the other to make the first move. 

The mean man—no, the wolf—, came to a stop a few feet from her. He opened his arms wide, standing in the deep snow. He had this aura of intense satisfaction and exuberant pride; Masha stomach rolled at the influx of energies. 

"My, what big powers you have, Huntress."

"All the better to sense you with, wolf."

"But, Huntress, what interesting curves you have."

"The better to catch your attention, wolf.”

"Oh, but Huntress, what anger you exude."

"The better to intimidate you, wolf."

"My, what terrible tools you have!" 

"All the better to kill you with, wolf."