The Tangle The stick, the thorn, the briar

He loved women. He loved loving women and was often happy to put forth a bit of chivalrous effort to get in their proverbial pants. But he had limits, of course, as well as standards. They needed to be pretty and in good shape; no butter faces or fatties for him. This particular lady was certainly easy on the eyes, with lustrous fur and striking features. She also smelled ridiculously delicious. His mouth began to water as he regarded her, desire sweeping over him, but it all stopped rather short at her demand.

"Honey," he began, tone playfully scoffing, "you're hot but you're not that hot. How about I catch you one dead animal," the wolf reasoned, repeating his earlier offer, "and then I show you the time of your life?"