[ EU ] A dystopian future where a pack of Big ( Bad ) Wolves terrorize the human population , and the only saviors are a group of female warriors donning red cloaks/hoods .

The howl resounded about the hidden valley, its nuanced pitches and tones conveying in a few seconds what would take human language minutes. Sixredhumansfromoutsidevalleyalongroad. Subsiding, the sentinel turned away, leaving an eerie stillness that belied the passage of the twelve Silent Ones who loped through the forest. Moments before bursting onto the path, their very senses confirmed the sentinel's song. Patches of red shone through the undergrowth, blazing like tiny suns in their sensitive eyes. They all smelled the travelers- smelled the dust and sweat of a long travel. But, most of all, they heard. Ears attuned, their silent passage resounded in their ears as they searched for a trap. But there was none. Although the surviving villagers had made an uneasy truce with the Brethren, they knew not to step foot outside their town, especially not at night- especially wearing red. But these travelers, broadcasting deliciousness into the environs as clear as night, were outside the valley; and so were unaware of the Weapon. 
 
 The twelve stalwarts burst out of the undergrowth, all discipline lost, each racing for his meal. Yet, with a voice that seemed casual but must have spoken with considerable alacrity, considering the narrowness of the path and the speed of the assault, a Red nonchalantly said, `` Woah there mateys!'' 
 As if bidden by an unseen force, the Brethren scrambled back to the treeline, a movement observed by the sassy sister with considerable amusement. `` C'mon now fellas, no need ta be afeared of the laight. We ai n't gon na hurts ya.'' 
 Nonplussed, the Brethren officer -or his bureaucratic equivalent in the Pack- seemed to consider the situation, even as his eleven juniors edged away from the blinding red. But, whatever their sixth sense may tell them, they know better than to retreat. Making up his mind, he snarled rather lamely, `` Who are you?'' 
 Another sister addressed him, her lazy eyes amused by his obviously rare bout of civility, `` Some boy messenger came to the big city a whiles back. Said choo were giving him trouble. And me and the sisters here do n't like to see trouble,'specially if it do n't come in red.'' 
 Deciding that his reputation could survive another moment of decency, the leader growled, `` Use of the Weapon is forbidden. Shoot a stake through my heart, and the village shall not see sunup.'' 
 Yet another Red spoke, `` Weapons? Stakes? Good lord matey, all youse really do only think of blood. But, see, me and the sisters here, we think you're just a big furry koala bear who has n't had enough cuddles. That's what meat does to big furry koala bears, ya ken, it turns them into big bad wolves. So, ya see, we're gon na show ya just how much fun a vegetarian diet can be. Load up the pot, girls!'' 
 As the Reds busied themselves around their conveniently-already-cooking cauldron, the Brethren leader weighed up his options. He knew that he could not go back, for the Brethren would have heard of the girls and would be expecting a meal, one way or the other. He did not notice- could not notice- that his eleven packmates had already disappeared into the undergrowth. Then he decided that weighing up options was religious blasphemy, ATTACKATTACKATTACK. Yet as he stepped out of the woods he suddenly found himself surrounded by red. Red. Brighter than the sun on midsummer's day, brighter than the fires of burning buildings, brighter than the flash of lightning in the middle of the night. Snarling he slashed at it, but the red yielded not, and his claw glanced off of a solid wall. The next thing he knew he was being fed broth- how tasteless! How human! The second sister to speak- or was it the first, or the third- crooned, `` Sleepytime now you big fat koala bear you, so you can wake all bright eyed and bushy skinned in the morning. If you can.''
