Werewolf

It sought refuge from the snow, the hunger within it gnawing away. It had managed to squeeze itself in through a loose board at the side, and it looked at the photographs and other mementos within. The smell was different; almost wonderfully so. It sat on one of the sofas, and gazed at the photograph on the side-table. It showed a family in front of a lake. The parents and two smiling children. The wolf gazed long at it. It looked down at itself. It realised that the fur was receding from its body. It turned its paw, and saw that it was now a hand. It remembered its daughter prying it open and trying to hide the fortune within. "You'll have a long life daddy. A long one." He heard her in her head. It looked around again, and found that the room was becoming recognisable. It looked at the photograph, and started to realise how cold the room was. There was a sound outside; someone was at the door, and soon it would be unlocked and open. It sat and waited.