Page 105 of Little Red Riding Hood
The rope jerked against the wall, swaying in tight movements. Red’s fingers curled into fists, willing them to hurry.
“Thank Christ,” Astrid muttered. “There’s only twenty seconds left.”
Two figures emerged from the darkness above—Wim’s broad shoulders first, then Auntie Anne clinging to his back, her grey-streaked hair escaping its neat bun. Her maid’s uniform caught the dim light, the starched apron a pale beacon. The sight of her made Red’s chest squeeze. After tonight, she’d never don that uniform again. No more serving the Queen’s cruel whims, no more sleeping in cramped servants’ quarters. Astrid’s spare room awaited, along with days spent minding young Tobias while his mother hunted.
They reached the ground with barely a whisper of sound. Before Red could move, Auntie Anne swept him into her arms, crushing him against her chest. The familiar scent of lavender soap and baking bread enveloped him—the same comforting smell that had soothed countless childhood hurts.
“My dear boy.” Her voice wavered. “Your letter… when I read what you’d planned…” She pulled back, cupping his face between weathered palms. “And to think you found such happiness with your wolf. Though I nearly fainted dead when I read that part. And now I’ve seen him in real life…” The woman wolf-whistled, eyeing Wim up and down. “I have to say, you certainly weren’t exaggerating, were you?”
Red felt his cheeks warm. The letter had taken hours to compose, explaining everything from meeting Wim to discovering his true parentage. Getting it to Auntie Anne had been another challenge entirely.
“Your messenger was quite resourceful,” Auntie Anne whispered. “Slipped right past the guards dressed as a honey seller.”
Red glanced at Astrid. “Your connection proved useful after all.”
Astrid smirked. “My friend runs deliveries between villages. The palace guards know his face but not his allegiances. And he owes meseveral favours. But less chatting, more escaping,” she demanded, already coiling the rope around her arm. “The next patrol starts in seconds.”
They crept along the shadowed path, keeping close to the city’s outer wall. Red’s heart skipped at every snapping twig, every rustle of leaves. The familiar weight of his bow across his back offered little comfort—one wrong move could alert the entire guard rotation.
Wim’s presence ahead carved a path through the darkness and Auntie Anne walked between them, her steps remarkably quiet. Perhaps all the avoiding the Queen’s notice had taught her more than just which corridors to dodge.
Once they’d put enough distance between themselves and the wall, Red caught up to walk beside her. “What will the Queen think? How long until she notices your absence?”
Auntie Anne’s laugh carried a sharp edge. “Oh, she won’t notice for days, dear one. I’ve been preparing for weeks since your letter arrived. Called in every favour owed to arrange coverage for my duties.” She patted his arm. “The kitchen girls will say I’m abed with fever, and Martha’s agreed to bring meals to my empty room. By the time anyone realises, we’ll be long gone.”
“Clever.” Red couldn’t help but smile. He should have known she’d think of everything—she always had.
“The Queen’s too wrapped up in her mirror these days to notice much else. The court whispers she hasn’t left her chambers in days.”
All the talk of the Queen—his aunt—sent an uncomfortable chill down Red’s spine. He’d spent so much time desperate for her approval, never knowing the truth of their connection. Now that twisted bond felt like a rope around his neck, one he was finally cutting free.
“But have you even heard the news from the palace?”
Red’s ears pricked up at Auntie Anne’s question, though he’d spent the past two months trying to forget the palace existed.
“What news?”
“Both the Royal Shadow and the Queen’s son have disappeared. Neither of them have been seen in months. Mind you, the Queen has been even more foul-tempered because of it.”
Red’s mind whirred. The Queen’s Shadow, gone? Every evening Red had gone to sleep paralysed in fear, terrified he’d wake up to find Wim slaughtered by his hand.
Or he’d imagine himself waking up back in the palace, having been magically transported there by the geist, his cruel, sneering face laughing at him as he looked around in panic.
But to hear that he was somehow gone? Red’s breath came easier, his chest expanding with a freedom he hadn’t fully claimed until this moment. No more looking over his shoulder, expecting darkness to coalesce into that haunting figure.
“Where did Makellos go?” Red asked.
“Well, rumour is he’s dead, but the Queen has been acting very strangely indeed recently. Nobody quite knows what’s going on.”
Makellos—dead? The perfect prince with his flawless skin and midnight hair. The boy who’d had everything Red had ever wanted: respect from the Queen’s court, beauty beyond measure, a place of belonging, a name that meant something. Red had spent so many years envying him. How peculiar that Red now found himself holding his breath, silently bargaining with whatever deities might listen that the rumours weren’t true.
Wim growled. “That woman’s days are finally numbered. I can feel it in my bones.”
The forest thinned as they approached the meeting point where Astrid had arranged a cart. Soon they’d be heading back to the pack lands—backhome.
The thought caught him off guard. When had Wim’s territory transformed from ‘the pack lands’ into ‘home’ in his mind?
Perhaps it was the moment they’d first returned there, after the long return journey. Tobias had launched himself at Red before even acknowledging his ‘best friend,’ tiny arms wrapping tightaround Red’s neck as he babbled about how he’d told the whole pack about him. The pure acceptance in that gesture had stolen Red’s breath.
