Page 41 of Little Red Riding Hood
“We’ve not had meat in months,” she continued, practically bouncing on her feet. “Think of it—enough wolf meat to feed the whole village! The pelt alone would fetch a fine price at market.” She peered at Red’s cloak with undisguised hunger. “You look like you know quality furs. Care to join the hunt?”
The crowd surged with renewed enthusiasm as someone shouted about fresh tracks. Red’s fingers tightened around his bow, bile rising in his throat as the commoners brandished their farming tools like weapons.
But surely Wim should be miles upon miles away, in the opposite direction?
“I highly doubt you lot are capable of bringing down a wolf,” Red said, not caring about his rude tone. It was true—this ragtag group of merry men likely couldn’t bring down a sleepy kitten.
The woman scoffed, jabbing her pitchfork towards Red’s chest. “We’ve got more than just tools, pretty boy. Jed and his lot laid out poisoned rats near the stream.” Her grin stretched wide, revealing several missing teeth. “Once that beast’s slowed down, we’ll finish it off proper.”
Ice flooded Red’s veins.Poisoned rats!His mind flashed to Wim, hunting alone in the forest, stomach growling after days of sharing his food with Red. Would he be desperate enough to eat dead rats?
“Smart plan.” Red forced the words past numb lips. His fingers found the smooth wood of his bow. “Actually, I’d love to help. Been tracking wolves for many winters now.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. “This bow’s brought down plenty.”
The woman’s eyes lit up as she took in his weapon—far superior to their silly farming implements. She turned to the crowd. “Oi! This one’s a proper hunter!”
Faces turned towards Red, hungry eyes fixing on his bow. A burly man with a pitchfork stepped forward. “You know how to use that thing, boy?”
Red drew himself up to his full height. “I killed several slave traders with it just days ago.”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the group. The burly man nodded, though he eyed Red warily. “Welcome aboard then. We’re heading to the stream first—check on them rats.”
Red’s heart lurched wildly. He had to somehow find Wim first. Had to warn him. But how to slip away without raising suspicion?
“Excellent.” Red kept his voice steady and light. “I’ll scout ahead, see if I can pick up any tracks. I’m sure you know this, but wolves have keen noses—better if we spread out rather than moving as one big group.”
The commoners nodded eagerly, already breaking into smaller clusters. They buzzed with a sense of purpose, of strategy, that made Red feel even sicker. They didn’t notice his hands trembling as he checked his quiver.
Red was being foolish. Even if he did succeed in finding Wim, the wolf would likely bite his head off before Red could open his mouth. He’d certainly been close to doing just that, earlier. Really, Red should ignore this and press on to the Dark Forest—there had already been enough delays.
The path before Red split like a forked tongue, neither direction promising comfort. For someone who’d spent his life following orders, choosing his own path felt dangerous—yet thrilling.
Teetering on the edge of his decision, Red’s mind suddenly conjured up the soft wolfish whimper of pain Tobias had made, trapped in that snare. His chest tightened at the memory. Whatever Wim was hiding, whatever game he was playing… Red couldn’t bear the thought of the wolf meeting a similar fate, alone in these woods.
You’re going soft in your old age, Red.That, or he had a soft spot for this damn wolf.
His stomach lurched as he turned away from the commoners, forcing his steps to remain measured and calm as he headed towards the treeline. The moment he passed the first row of trees, he picked up speed, all earlier weariness and hunger forgotten.
Then, Red ran, praying that he found his wolf before they did.
His wolf.
Shaking his head dismally, Red chastised himself. But it was no use—he couldn’t deny it. Red had much more than ‘a soft spot’ for the insufferable mangy mutt.
That was dangerous. Caring, the Queen often said, made you weak, made you vulnerable.
The real question was: which would kill him first—the wolf, his secrets, or Red’s own foolish heart?
Ten
Red sprinted, his boots pounding against the forest floor as he followed the commoners’ directions to the riverside trap. His heart raced with every step, every rustle of leaves, and every snap of a twig. His world narrowed to a point as finding Wim became his sole purpose.
The trees blurred together as he pushed himself to run faster, his legs burning with each stride. Sweat trickled down his face, and his breath came in ragged gasps. A sharp jolt followed by a hollow thud behind him told him the sack of carrots and potatoes—their hard-won bounty from the slavers—had fallen from his pack. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Every time he slowed down, he pictured Wim eating one of the poisoned rats, his body convulsing, froth foaming at his mouth, pouring down his grey muzzle.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the foliage became less dense, and water gurgled nearby. Red burst into a small clearing, the stream on the far side of it. His eyes scanned the area, and his stomach dropped. Three dead rats lay in a neat row, their bodies stiff and lifeless. But it was the sound that followed that made his blood run cold: a scream.
Red’s gaze whipped to the left, and his heart stopped. Wim stood close to two mangled, lifeless bodies, their clothes shredded and bloodied. Red let out a small cry before slapping his hand over his mouth.Holy shit.Ragged holes had been torn through their abdomens, revealing wet crimson cavities where flesh had been savagelyripped away, and he was fairly sure that the glistening, rope-like masses he could see were intestines.
“Jed and his lot,”the woman had said, and it looked like Red had found them. His mind stuttered, unable to process what he was seeing. Wim had done this. Wim had ripped those two poor souls to shreds.
