Page 4 of Little Red Riding Hood
Red took a tentative step forward, then another. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to keep going. He scanned the forest floor, searching for his bow. It had to be here somewhere…
A glint of moonlight caught his eye. There, half hidden beneath a pile of leaves, was his precious weapon. Red snatched it up and clutched it to his chest like a lifeline. A small measure of his confidence returned.
He set off through the trees, his steps quick and light. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every rustle of leaves a potential predator. Red’s eyes darted from side to side, his body tense and ready to flee at the slightest provocation.
Red’s mind whirred, replaying the conversation he’d had with the wolf. Thank goodness he’d seen those two young men earlier. However, he’d certainly embellished a fair bit. The pair of them looked even skinnier than he did—which made sense, as they looked to be commoners, and Red at least had access to the palace kitchen scraps.
Would the wolf come back, angrier and hungrier than before?
And what had he meant by ‘playing with his food?’ Reading people was one of Red’s strengths, and he wielded it like a weapon. But his powers of intuition didn’t quite reach to deducing the words of wolves, apparently.
Regardless, the memory of those amber eyes raking over his body wasn’t entirely unpleasant…
This is the starvation talking.
Red shook his head, trying to clear it of such dangerous thoughts. He needed to focus on survival, not… whatever that was.
He pushed on through the night, determined to lose the predator in the depths of the forest. But no matter how far he walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that those eyes were still watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Two
Red’s hands shook, slivers of ice digging into his skin as he fruitlessly struck stone against flint. The gnawing cold consumed him, seeping beneath his thin cloak and settling in his bones. He cursed the insubordinate sparks, his breath misting in the glacial air. Even the trees jeered at him, their bare branches shivering in mockery.
Was it folly, after the wolf’s unsettling words, to journey even deeper into the forest, away from any semblance of warmth or civilisation? Yet some part of him remained stubborn, refusing to be bested by the biting cold or the fear that whispered through the shadows.
Red struck stone and flint once more. A pale ember danced to life, but a sudden gust snuffed it out like a cruel joke. He cried aloud, hunching over the feeble collection of twigs. When had his life become such a wretched tale?
His feet had long since lost all feeling, the ragged holes in his boots inviting the bitter cold to feast upon his toes. He’d walked for what felt like a thousand eternities before making camp for the night, though ‘camp’ was a generous term for his set-up, which consisted of a simple bedroll, the cooking pot Auntie Anne gave him, and the fire that would not start.
A loud snap of a twig, just to Red’s left, made him jump out of his skin. He scanned the darkness, heart thundering in his chest, fingers tightening around the flint.
A massive grey form emerged from the shadows. The wolf.Wim. Back again.
Back to eat him.
Within a heartbeat, Red’s fingers closed around his bow, nocking an arrow with practised precision as he aimed at the approaching beast.
The wolf stared at Red.
The feral glint in Wim’s eyes had vanished. Once wild and hungry, now they held a calm intensity that made Red’s skin prickle. His posture, before predatory and tense, now seemed more relaxed, although cautious.
Red blinked, uncertain whether his eyes were playing tricks on him in the dim light—the wolf’s entire demeanour had shifted.
“You’re… different,” Red managed to croak out.
“I’ve sated the beast inside me, for now,” rumbled Wim.
“So you… ate those two men?” Red whispered. It seemed an awful waste of that very handsome man to become a meal, but at least it wasn’t Red who’d been eaten.
Wim snarled, revealing those ever-so-sharp teeth. “Wildlings don’t feast on human flesh. Goes against our sacred code.”
“Well, you seemed awfully keen on eating me earlier!”
“I wasn’t myself back there.”
“What do you mean, not yourself?”
There was no reply, and the silence lingered between them. Red lowered his bow, then glanced behind Wim to the dark trees, as if he could will him away. “And if you’re not going to eat me, why are you standing in my camp?”
