Page 37 of Little Red Riding Hood
“Ta.” Red bit into the crunchy flesh as he watched Wim kick dirt over the remains of their fire. “Which way?”
Wim pointed southeast, where the trees grew closer together. “Five days’ walk that direction, if the weather holds.”
Still five days.They’d lost an entire day on finding and rescuing Tobias.
They set off through the undergrowth, the forest quickly swallowing them up.
Red lasted ten minutes before he couldn’t resist starting his very subtle investigation.
“You never said how exactly you developed this… disease of yours,” Red said.
Wim looked at him sharply. “No, I didn’t.”
Going well so far, then.
“Well… do you mind telling me?”
Wim was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Dark magic got me.” Wim’s tone dropped low, and Red found himself leaning in to catch the words. “Was hunting way past our lands, right up near Hallin. Far away, but game was getting scarce…” He trailed off, seemingly lost in dark thoughts before he continued. “Heard crying. Little girl, all alone in the woods.” His jaw clenched. “Least, thought it was a little girl. When I went to help, she changed.”
“Changed?” Red’s feet caught on a root, but he barely noticed.
“Turned into a soulstealer. Huge black beast, bigger than me in wolf form, alight with purple flames. My pack hears whispers about it now and then—The Black Beast. People found dead, not a mark on them. Turns out the stories were true.”
Red’s breath caught. “A… soulstealer? Those aren’t real!” But even as he said it, his skin prickled with gooseflesh. Everyone knew the stories—creatures that fed on the essence of living beings, leaving behind empty husks.
“They’re real enough.” Wim’s fingers brushed against his left biceps. “Shifted quick as I could when it came at me—saved my life—but not before it got its teeth in.”
He stopped walking and pulled up his sleeve. Red’s eyes widened at the mark beneath the dark hair. He’d noticed it before, but looking at it up close, the bite appeared fresh, as if it had happenedyesterday. An angry circle of puncture wounds, a curious bright purple colour, slightly raised and painful looking.
“That’s impossible.” Red reached out to touch it without thinking, then snatched his hand back. “How is it still…?”
“Still raw? Part of the disease.” Wim tugged his sleeve back down. “The bite never heals. And neither does what it did to me inside.”
“I’ve just realised you haven’t told me yet about where exactly you’re going, to cure it.”
“Hmm? The Dark Forest, same as you.” Wim’s voice remained even, but his left hand drifted to his neck, scratching at the short hairs there.
“Yes, but where exactlyinthe Dark Forest?” Red kept his tone light, even as a chill ran through him at the mention of that accursed place. Tales of travellers being devoured by monstrous trees flashed through his mind—childhood stories meant to frighten, but which now seemed all too plausible.
Wim glanced towards him again. “Do you know it well?” His hand dropped from his neck, but immediately returned to scratch again.
Red clucked his tongue, hopping over a fallen log, and impressing himself with the grace with which he landed. “No. I only know Oma’s house is right in the middle of it. So, what exactly do you need the Dark Forest for? Is there like… a magical herb that will cure your illness?”
Wim paused for too long before he answered. “Perhaps.”
Wim said nothing else, though his fingers continued their nervous dance against his neck. Red itched to slap his hand away.
“Perhaps? What do you mean?”
Wim appeared to trip, then steadied himself on a tree trunk. He remained there, facing the bark, hands pressed against it.
“Wim?”
The wolf did not turn around. Red’s hand hovered in the air, then fell back to his side. His heart rate sky-rocketed. Just what was Wim playing at?
“Wim?” Red repeated. “What did you mean?”
“Imeanfor you to stop asking questions that don’t concern you.” Wim whirled around, teeth bared.
