The Insane

"How fast can you run?" asked the wolf. Its tongue licked out, once, twice. Red flesh, black nose, silver fur.

"I'm pretty fast," said the man. "I won races in grade school."

The wolf panted, eyes glinting. "You're not faster than me. No one is. How fast can you run, hunter?"

The man stood hunched, hearing the movement all around him. He shrugged. Something tinkled on the floor, bent metal. A dozen ears swiveled; a dozen eyes tracked it. The man held up the black grenade whose pin he had dropped.

"Let's find out," he said.

The grenade bounced twice.