Cloud's pretty sure he knows how the story ends. Because stories, something even or especially kid's stories, always end the same way for him. Badly.

It was really ridiculous how much trouble he got in for doing what came naturally to him. Eating.

"I probably need to swallow you whole so you can cut yourself back out with the duck."

He manages it entirely straight faced, which isn't that hard for him even without the wolf version of it. Not that he's for a second going to not chew but the old guy doesn't need to know that. His shoulders hunch, suspiciously like a shrug.

"Or we can find someone else to give the story to. There's got to be a miller's son somewhere around here."