“Where are you going, Little Stranger?” the Wolf asked. “Why are you running away from us?”
Now Washer’s first thought was to deny that he was running away, but he knew that it was useless to try to deceive Mother Wolf. He realized now that she had been watching him out of the corners of her eyes all the time. She had not been asleep at all. So Washer decided to tell the truth.
“I didn’t want to be killed,” he said. “I’m growing fatter every day, and soon you will kill me for your children. O Mother Wolf, do you know how it feels to be killed?”
“No, I don’t suppose I do,” was the reply. “I’ve never been killed.”
“Then let me tell you it’s worse than anything you can dream of,” panted Washer.
“How do you know, Little Stranger?” Mother Wolf smiled as she asked this. “You’ve never been killed.”
“No, but can’t you imagine how it would feel?”
“Imagine! What is that? I never heard of such a thing.”
“Why—imagination is something that helps you to feel just as if the real thing was happening.”