Page 15 of Little Red Riding Hood
Red hesitated. This was now a lot of questions. But he’d already revealed this much… Besides, a small—well, rather large—part of him wanted to impress Wim with the importance of his quest.
“When it pierces Old Oma’s heart, it will turn her to dust,” Red explained, unable to stop himself from adding a dramatic edge to the statement.
Wim’s face went through a series of rapid transformations—shock, and something that looked almost like… panic? But in the blink of an eye, his features smoothed out, that standard smirk back in place.
Confusion had Red’s breath catching in his throat. Wim was certainly hiding something. But why the devil would Wim care what happened to Old Oma? Could he actually be an ally of Oma’s? No… that was plain silly. But what other reason would explain his reaction?
“Dust, you say?” Wim’s tone was light, yet strained. “That’s quite the trick. And you’re absolutely certain it will work?”
Red nodded, though a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. “The Queen says it’s the only way to lift Old Oma’s curse on our land.” He eyed Wim. “Why all these questions?”
Wim shrugged, his massive shoulders rising and falling like mountain peaks. “Just curious. It’s not every day you hear about magical arrows turning witches to dust.”
Red wasn’t fooled by Wim’s attempt at nonchalance, and anxiety burrowed into his almost-empty gut.
“Hmm.”
“Look, the road is just up ahead.” Wim jerked his head forward.
Red followed Wim. Indeed, it wasn’t long before the path widened, deep-rutted wagon tracks carved into the packedearth—they’d reached the road Wim had spoken about. The well-worn path would be a welcome change from stumbling over roots and rocks.
Red took a step forward, but Wim caught his arm, cocking his head to one side. “Hear that?”
Red strained his hearing. A light breeze, the tweeting of birds… “No?”
“Course not. Too distant for human ears. But there are horse carts coming. Withbells.” Wim’s mouth set in a grim line.
“And?”
“Know what those bells mean?”
Red scowled at him. He’d never been this far from the palace before, so of course he didn’t know. “What?”
“Slave traders. Slavers are heading this way.”
Four
“Slave traders?!”
Startled, Red gaped at the wolf as though he were spouting nonsense, despite having heard numerous accounts of the savage custom. Although officially prohibited, Her Majesty had of course turned a blind eye to the escalating practice of capturing elves from the northern kingdom of Varinien to sell on the black market. Red had seen a few of them himself, working in The Royal City, their delicate frames crumbling under iron shackles until they were nothing but hollow-eyed ghosts.
“Slavers? Here? In this forest?”
“How else do you expect them to get past the border?”
Red would have glared at Wim, but then he heard it—the subtle clink of bells in the near distance. “Why do they announce themselves with that sound?”
“Makes folk scatter. Tells everyone to clear off unless they fancy getting skewered. They’re counting on us running scared.”
Well, we better get going then.
“But we won’t be.” Wim took a step away from Red, surveying both edges of the path.
“We… won’t?”
Wim’s piercing gaze locked onto Red, the wolf’s eyes narrowing with a challenge that made the hairs on the back of Red’s neck prickle. “Up for a spot of mischief, sweetheart?”
Surely he can’t mean…
