Night had fallen deeply.
The orphanage was enveloped in the darkness of night, and the outside corridor gradually quieted down. The children had exhausted their energy in the day's plays, and most of them had fallen asleep by now. The "parent" on night duty walked through the corridor with a flashlight, occasionally, a glimmer of light flashed from the observation window on a door, accompanied by deliberately slowed footsteps.
Little Red Riding Hood had changed into her nightgown, leaning against the headboard, listening intently to the sounds outside.
She was attentive to any short cries in the night, any unusual shrieks, her wolves sniffing in the shadows for scents of fear and unrest, detecting anything that shouldn't appear as the night unfolded into reality.
Even on days when she didn't have to patrol, she had developed such habits.
After a while, she finally sighed softly and lay down on the bed.
