Page 35 of Little Red Riding Hood
“I could show you how, you know.” The bedroll rustled as Wim shifted closer. “Got to use your throat properly. You were doing it through your nose.”
“I was not using my nose.” Red rolled onto his side, facing away from Wim. “And I don’t need howling lessons from a mangy mutt.”
“Mangy? I’ll have you know my coat is extremely well groomed.”
“That’s not something to brag about.”
“Says the one who spends twenty minutes fussing with his hood to make it just so.”
“I do not— How dare— It needs to sit properly!”
A low chuckle vibrated through the small space between them. “Keep it down, sweetheart. Some of us want to sleep.”
“You started it, you prick,” Red hissed, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile from his voice.
Eight
Red drifted awake. He stretched, muscles aching from where he’d strained them squeezing through the narrow crack. His heart sank as his uncomfortably full bladder demanded attention.
Something was restricting his movement, however.
The weight of Wim’s arm draped across his chest pinned him in place, heavy and warm. Through half-closed eyes, he watched the rise and fall of Wim’s chest, the way his lips had parted slightly in sleep.
Just five more minutes.
But his damned bladder wouldn’t be ignored. Red shifted, trying to wiggle out from under Wim’s arm without waking him. The arm tightened, pulling Red closer.
Bloody hell.
“Wim.” Red poked him in the ribs. “Let go.”
Wim’s only response was a soft grunt as he buried his face in Red’s hair.
“For heaven’s sake.” Red managed to extract himself, though not without considerable effort. The cold night air hit him like a slap, and he grabbed his cloak, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders.
Unlike Red, Wim had no modesty concerns and would relieve himself right at the edge of camp, marking his territory like the animal he was. Red refused to do his business where anyone might stumble across him. Body still tired from the events of yesterday, Redmeandered through the darkness, stumbling a few times over thistle bushes, until he found a secluded tree to do the honours on.
Once finally finished, Red headed back towards the warm glow of the dying fire. He was almost at the camp’s edge when voices caught his attention—Wim and Astrid, speaking in urgent whispers. Red froze, ears straining. They were so quiet, it was impossible to hear them clearly. He inched forwards, ensuring he was covered in the darkness of a large pine tree.
“Look, he’s… sweet, I’ll give you that. But this golden arrow? Turn todust? Come on, Wim!” Astrid’s tone was sharp, even in a whisper. “You can’t seriously believe this bullshit!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Course I don’t believe it! It’s stupid nonsense.”
Ouch.Red felt the blow as a punch to his chest. There wasn’t a hint of doubt or hesitation in Wim’s voice. He thought Red’s mission a folly, and had been humouring him all along, like a child.
Perhaps Red should slink back into the forest, protect his fragile pride from any more harm. A braver soul would announce his presence, defend his quest, but Red wasn’t feeling particularly brave.
“Just before you left, you told me that your sickness was getting worse and worse. That you thought you might have only weeks left before you lost yourself completely. And now you’re wasting time with this random man? You need to stick to your plan and get back to our pack! We need you, Wilhelm!”
“Nothing has changed, Astrid!”
“So what’s going to happen when—”
“Shh!” Wim audibly sniffed the air. “I can smell him.”
Fuck.
Red strode forwards with casual confidence, making a show of blinking in surprise at finding the two wolves awake and hovering near the fire. He yawned convincingly. “Just needed to piss.”
