Page 38 of Little Red Riding Hood
Holy shit.Red stumbled backwards, heart leaping into his throat. His hand flew to his bow before he could stop himself. Wim’s entire demeanour had transformed—shoulders hunched, muscles coiled tight.
A growl rumbled deep in Wim’s chest. “I don’t owe you any information.” He advanced, his words rough like gravel. “I owe younothing.”
Red’s back hit a tree trunk. He lifted his chin. Refusing to show how his hands trembled, he clutched his bow to his chest like a shield. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“You thought what? That we were friends?” Wim’s laugh held no warmth.
What the fuck?!What had Red done to deserve this?
“No,” said Red with all the conviction he could muster, but his voice cracked. He straightened his spine, forcing steel into his words. “I thought you were a man of some honour. Clearly I was wrong.”
Wim’s face flickered, the aggression dropping away, replaced by a grim frown. He stepped back, running both hands through his hair. “I… forgive me. That was—” He winced, pressing his palm against his temple.
Wim’s pupils dilated, black swallowing the warm gold of his irises as his breathing grew ragged and uneven. Red’s stomach twisted at the sight, and his fingers clamped around the wood of his bow. Then the wolf’s fingers twitched, nails lengthening into vicious black claws before retracting again, the transformation rippling beneath his skin like a wave. Red knew all too well what those claws could do to human flesh.
“Something’s—” Wim doubled over, a shudder racking his frame. When he looked up, his eyes had taken on an amber glow. “Got to go. Right now.” Wim gasped, already backing away, his movements jerky and uncontrolled. “Need to get far away from you.” He staggered backwards,pressing his palm against his temple. “Map,” he growled, gesturing frantically. “Quick!”
Red fumbled with his pack, yanking out the crinkled parchment with trembling fingers. The map fluttered in the chill breeze as he spread it against the rough bark.
“Here—” Red’s voice wavered as Wim lurched forward, jabbing a trembling finger at the map.
“Follow this stream—” Wim’s words came in pained gasps. “Silver birches—then south. Two days’ walk.” Another violent tremor caused him to stagger backwards.
Two days?Red would be alone for two whole days? It took a shocking amount of energy not to protest, not to beg Wim not to leave him.
“Promise me—” Wim demanded, eyes flashing. “You’ll stay on the path.”
Something warm bloomed in Red’s chest, despite everything. Even now, with whatever affliction gripped him, Wim worried about Red losing his way. Maybe even seeing Red again.
“I promise,” Red whispered, but Wim had already staggered into the shadows between the trees, leaving nothing but the fading sound of laboured breathing and pine needles crushed beneath boots.
Alone again. Possibly for good this time.
How terribly convenient this happened just when you started asking difficult questions.
Though a sudden thought struck Red—had he somehowcausedthis? Had he put Wim under too much stress, triggering one of his episodes?
Or, alternatively, perhaps Wim had even been faking that whole thing, just to get away from Red. After all, Red barely knew this strange wild wolf.
You’ll be fine by yourself. Get a grip!
It was time to leave—Red had stood still for far too long. He had golden arrows to shoot, quests to complete.
And so, he set off.
Red’s feet dragged through the undergrowth, each step heavier than the last. He couldn’t stop the map from trembling in his hands as he traced their planned route with his finger.Theirroute. But Wim wasn’t here anymore.
The forest stretched endlessly ahead, a maze of thick trunks and gnarled branches that blocked most of the weak autumn sunlight. Red pulled his crimson hood tighter around his shoulders, fighting against the growing shadows that pressed in from all sides.
Left foot. Right foot. Keep moving.
A jay shrieked overhead, causing him to stumble. His heart pounded as he steadied himself against a tree trunk. The rough bark bit into his palm, grounding him in reality.
The path ahead curved sharply around a massive oak. Red forced himself forward, focusing on the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, but every snap of a twig, every rustle in the bushes made him whirl around, searching for grey fur, for familiar orange eyes.
Why does being alone feel so different now?
A branch snagged Red’s cloak, yanking him backwards with brutal force. The clasp dug into his throat, choking off his air, and his fingers scrabbled at his neck to release the catch. He finally freed himself and dropped to his knees, gulping down precious air.
