Zacharias Papantoniou

“ The wolf missed nothing of all that. The wind brought him the odour of the wild animals that were fleeing. He even saw the pawprints of some and nodded his head.
“I've not come for you, would you believe it, he said. I'm looking for some good food. You're worth nothing to a wolf who sees three thousand sheep in his dreams! And he continued on his way.
His hunger was growing. His thirst for blood even more. He sharpened his teeth; they cut like the best knife. He was ready.
Among the white sheep, he had now started to dream of a black one in the middle. ”

“ May the best one survive!
So he began the battle against two. He felt the teeth of the dogs like knives on his neck. But in turn, escaping, he sprang up to seize them in the same place. Rolling on the ground, one would have taken them for three dogs; or conversely, for three wolves.
The wolf had to fight against two. He needed to kill one of the two, so he'd be alone against the other, then he'd have to win against that one too, and then he would jump onto the sheep. ”

“ Only the weasel hasn't rushed off yet. He ran along the branches of an enormous chestnut tree as if to say: “What is it? What's happened?”
The weasel can't live without knowing what's going on. He looked all around with his shining sloe eyes, but no-one came up to speak. ”