I’m round and red and grow on a vine, Slice me for salad and you’ll do just fine.

Curled into a circle, I hang with cheer, a touch of the forest, bringing the season near. Sometimes I celebrate, sometimes Im placed to grieve, on doors or tables, I take my leave.

In the original I was not a girl, rather I was a woman of old, but the bears wouldn't digest me, so someone suggested, that this character be made a young girl. Lock the front door, and put your food away, as She cares not for what is not hers.

Named for wolves, yet I live inside you, A pointed spear, able to tear through. When bared I am a cornerstone.

I’m no horse of course, though I’m often confused, I carry your burdens and still get accused. My voice is a laugh, my ears steal the show, I’m smarter than people are willing to know.