It's summer

26 in the small spa town of Berdeskarden deep in the Bavarian Alps. In the afternoon sun against the spectacular mountain backdrop

two young women play with their dog a German shepherd called Marko. Off the leash Marco runs around the grass of a public park, the

Kugaten. He soon joined by another dog, the same breed. The animals chase each other,

frolicing, barking playfully.

From across the green, the second dog's owner

watches the young woman intently.

He stands alone, he wears knee-length boots and carries a riding whip. It's all a little odd. But the girls know who he is. They've seen him at the hotel, a nearby

Deutsche House. Their family owns the clothes shop across the street. Eventually he comes over. He makes small talk. His

dog is called Prince, he tells them. German Shepherds, Alsatians, they are the noblest of all canines, the closest one can get to the animal in its natural state, to a wolf. The man seems harmless enough. They take to a bench. He's here

on an extended vacation, he down from Munich they are locals they reply their

names are Annie and Maria writer theirs is a sad tale. Their mother died only two weeks ago, cancer. Things have been tough these

past months. Maria, the younger of the two, has had to come home from boarding school to help keep the shop going.

The man asks them if they'd like to accompany him to a concert sometime or maybe to his hotel later on.

He's giving a talk to some friends.

They'd be most welcome.

They decline politely, but ask him his name. He tells them, Mr. Wolf. Mr. Wolf seems quite

taken with Maria or Mitzi, as everyone calls her.

She's blonde, she uses youth and vitality.

Though age just 16, with him 37,

this does not seem a healthy attraction.

Annie warns her of him.

...