[Puss in Boots/OtGW]
There was a Wolf in the hospital room the boys were sleeping overnight.
Ah, he always hated these cases.
The Wolf silently stood in the corner of the hospital room. None of the doctors or nurses noticed him as they fussed over the two children in the beds, monitoring their states. They had been in the water too long. They were concerned about dry drowning, about hypothermia, about their states in general.
At one point, visitors were allowed. The boys' parents came in first, their mother weeping as she adjusted blankets, whispered pleas, begged the doctors for any hope. Her husband stood close behind, comforting her, trying to hide his own fear and panic. The frog gurgled from the younger boy's side.
The Wolf watched.
He had to. He had other names on his list, but these were special cases.
He hated it when children, so full of potential, died, but he hated it when their souls waited and waited, unsure which way to fall. He would need to be here, in case things tilted towards his side.
He waited. He waited and watched.
And then, the doctors came in. They studied them, and then there was a cry.
"He's waking up!"
The younger boy gasped, eyes fluttering open. "…Wirt…?" He glanced over. "Wirt? We did it!"
"Your brother's going to be okay!"
Nobody noticed the Wolf's shoulders slump with relief, nor as he left the room.
He had other names on his list.
