Once upon a time, in the heart of Willowbrook Village, lived a cheerful brown dog named Pepper. Pepper was a loyal companion to the children, always ready for games and adventures. The villagers adored her, for she kept them safe from foxes, chased away crows, and sometimes, just by barking, made everyone feel secure.

But beyond the village, deep within the shadowy forest, lurked a fearsome werewolf named Grimfang. Grimfang was large, with shaggy gray fur, glowing yellow eyes, and a howl that sent shivers through the trees. Every full moon, Grimfang prowled the edge of the woods, waiting for a chance to sneak into Willowbrook.

One crisp autumn evening, as the full moon began to rise, the villagers gathered for a festival. Laughter and music filled the air, candles flickered in every window, and tables were piled with pumpkin pies and honeyed bread. Pepper joined the children, chasing after falling leaves and wagging her tail.

Suddenly, a strange chill swept through the village. The music stopped. The children huddled together, clutching Pepper’s fur. From the darkness beyond the cottages, a howl echoed—long, mournful, and wild. The villagers froze, for they knew the legend: when the moon was full and the howl was heard, Grimfang would come.

Pepper pricked up her ears. She could smell a scent not of the forest, nor of any animal she knew. She trotted bravely toward the edge of the village, her nose twitching. As the villagers watched from behind closed doors, Pepper padded into the moonlit clearing, her tail high.

From the shadows, Grimfang emerged. He was even larger than the stories said, with sharp fangs and claws that glinted in the moonlight. His eyes narrowed as he saw Pepper. "Step aside, little dog," he growled. "I’ve come for the village’s feast."

Pepper, though her heart thumped loudly, stood firm. "Willowbrook is under my watch tonight. You cannot pass."

Grimfang laughed, a low, rumbling sound. "What can a small dog do to stop a mighty werewolf?"

Pepper remembered all the games she played with the village children—hide and seek, tag, and tricky races. She had an idea. "If you want to enter Willowbrook, you must first win a contest. If you lose, you must leave and never return."

Grimfang, proud and sure of his strength, agreed to the challenge. "What is this contest, dog?"

"A race around the big oak tree," Pepper declared, pointing her nose at the ancient tree at the center of the clearing. "If you win, the village is yours for tonight. If I win, you must leave."

Grimfang grinned, thinking the little dog had no chance. The villagers watched from afar, barely daring to breathe.

At Pepper’s bark, they dashed! Grimfang was fast and powerful, but he was not used to running in circles. Pepper, nimble and clever, darted around the roots, weaving through leaves and jumping over fallen branches. Grimfang, in his hurry and hunger, stumbled and tripped, his big paws tangling in the roots.

Pepper zipped past him and touched the tree first. She barked triumphantly. Grimfang, panting and embarrassed, glared at the clever dog. "A promise is a promise," Pepper reminded him.

With a woeful howl, Grimfang slunk back into the shadows of the forest, never to bother Willowbrook again. The villagers cheered and hugged Pepper, and the festival continued, brighter than ever under the safe, silvery moon.

A clever dog outsmarts a fearsome werewolf in the moonlit village.