Page 28 of Little Red Riding Hood
Wim’s shoulders slumped. He stepped away from the cave. “Fine. If you want to try, I won’t stop you.” His voice wavered, brown eyes wide.
Just what was his problem?
Red’s pulse jumped skittishly, like a startled hare, and as he shrugged off his pack and quiver, he hesitated over the golden arrow inside. The Queen’s words echoed in his mind…“Guard it with yourlife, or forfeit that life instead.”He tucked it carefully beneath his other supplies.
Red stepped towards the crack.
“Your hood needs to come off, Red,” Wim said softly. “It’ll catch and tear.”
Red’s fingers tightened around the red fabric. Take it off? He never took it off, apart from when he needed to bathe. It was his mother’s only gift to him, and his shield from the world. It had protected him through every nightmare, every cruel word from the Queen, every lonely night.
“It doesn’t tear. It never has, not in all these winters.”
“Do you really want to test that theory?”
Wim stared at him, concern spreading across his face as Red fisted his cloak.
It’s just a riding hood, Red.
With trembling hands, Red unclasped the hood.
When Wim took it reverently, folding it with careful movements, a strange warmth flooded Red’s system, combating the chill from removing the garment.
Red approached the narrow gap between the rocks. The darkness within seemed to pulse, to breathe. His skin prickled.
Don’t think about being trapped. Don’t think about being crushed. Don’t think about the fact you’re meant to be saving Falchovari from the Great Famine, not saving a cub from a cave to impress a handsome wolf.
That wasn’t true, he was doing this to help a lost little boy. Mostly.
Red pressed his body against the crack, angling it sideways. One step, then another.
A jolt of joy rocketed through him as he slid straight through.Success!
He resisted shooting Wim a victorious grin and pressed on, inching his body through the gap.
Though the further he went, the more the space constricted around him, as if the cave itself was a living thing intent on holdinghim captive. He could feel the weight of the stone pressing in from all sides.
Each breath became a struggle as panic clawed at his throat, tightening like the very walls around him.
The jagged rock walls bit into Red’s flesh as he forced his body through. His shirt and breeches were surely tearing, and pain blazed across his shoulders, his ribs, his hips. Blood trickled down his arm where stone had gouged deep. Each forward movement brought fresh agony as the rough surface scraped away more skin.
Thank goodness Wim made him take off his hood.
“Red?” Wim’s shout came from behind. “You’ve stopped. Are you stuck?”
“I’m fine,” Red ground out, pressing onwards despite the burning sensation across his torso. He wouldn’t fail at this. Wouldn’t prove himself weak.
The passage narrowed further. Red’s chest compressed as he inched sideways, fighting for each breath. The darkness pressed in, absolute and suffocating.
Was this how he would die—crushed between two slabs of unforgiving stone, all because he needed to prove himself to a wolf who’d probably forget him by tomorrow?
He’d never complete his quest.
And then what of the kingdom? What of the children with hollowed cheeks and the elders too weak to leave their beds? The golden fields that once flourished now lay barren, and the marketplace that once bustled with life now echoed with desperate pleas for scraps. Red had seen it all—had witnessed the queen’s indifference as her people starved. This mission wasn’t just about proving his worth; it was about saving lives. If he failed here, trapped in this unforgiving darkness, what would happen? There would be nothing Wim and Astrid could do to free him. Though maybe Wim would take the golden arrow to Oma himself, complete the quest in Red’s honour. That would be nice.
With one final surge of energy, Red gritted his teeth and pushed forward. The crack widened, stone walls falling away from his bleeding shoulders. He rushed forward, desperate to escape the crushing pressure. Three more steps and the passage opened into blessed space. His lungs expanded and sweet relief flooded his aching muscles.
Wim and Astrid’s voices drifted to him as if through water, muffled and distant. Their words blurred together, meaningless save for the concern in their tone.
