When the Gingerbread Man Ran Away

Previously

…He yawned, a wide, pink cavern revealing his sharp teeth. The sun was sinking lower now, casting a warm, golden light over the meadow. It was time for him to head back to his den. He trotted off, his tail held high, a satisfied predator moving through the peaceful countryside. The memory of the Gingerbread Man, his bravery, his speed, his sweet, spicy taste, would be a pleasant reminder of a perfectly executed hunt. The countryside was quiet once more, the only sound the gentle rustling of the wind through the grass, a soft lullaby for a world that had just witnessed a very delicious end.