Page 5 of Little Red Riding Hood
A wolfish laugh. “Been keeping an eye on you for a bit. Great entertainment, watching you struggle with that fire.” Wim’s furry grey head nodded towards Red’s feeble attempt at a firepit. “Reckon a hot bowl of broth might help me sleep soundly tonight.”
“Go and make your own broth elsewhere, wolf. I have no desire for company.”Particularly not from a beast who threatened to eat me.
“I have no cooking pot, and you’ve got no fire. Trust me, the last thing I want is to break bread with one of Queen Schön’s supporters.”
Red flinched. “How did you know I’m from the palace?” How could this creature possibly know that? He’d been careful to blend in with the common folk scattered around the forest.
Wim’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. “That smell on you,” he growled. “All those fancy perfumes. Only palace folk wear scents like that.”
Red’s cheeks burned. He’d bathed in the river that morning using the tiny bar of lavender-scented soap Auntie Anne had procured for him. “Is it so bad to smell nice?”
The wolf took a large step closer, then sniffed the air. “Not a bit. But where I’m from, standing with that cruel witch who wears the crown… now that’s a crime. She had members of my pack slaughtered until my alpha bent to her will, and her tithes are crippling the kingdom, not that she gives a damn.”
Red couldn’t argue with that, but the wolf’s attitude towards him, as ifhewere equally responsible, made him bristle.
“The Queen does what needs to be done,” Red retorted. “In fact, right now she has sent me on this very quest to rid Falchovari of the Great Famine.” Probably, he was revealing too much, but he couldn’t help but brag, allowing pride to seep through him and warm his bones.
Wim sneered, and those horribly sharp teeth of his appeared even sharper. “Whatquest?”
“Look, if you’re going to hover in my camp, I insist you return to your man-shape.” Red also found he’d grown rather curious to see what this strange man looked like when he wasn’t a mangy mutt.
“Fine by me.”
Red watched, transfixed, as Wim’s form began to shift. The wolf’s massive body contorted and twisted, fur receding into skin like waves retreating from the shore. Bones cracked and reshaped themselves, the sound echoing through the silent forest. It was bothterrifying and mesmerising, a dance of nature defying all logic. It was magical. The palace staff were not going to believe their ears when Red recounted this tale upon his return.
The transformation neared its end, and Red found himself holding his breath. The last vestiges of fur melted away, revealing a man kneeling where the wolf had stood moments before. Wim raised his head, meeting Red’s gaze with those same intense amber eyes.
Red’s heart skipped a beat. Gone was the flea-infested beast, replaced with something far more… magnificent. Wim’s hair was the colour of the chestnuts they roasted every Yuletide, tousled and wild, framing a strong, chiselled face. His beard, thick and well-groomed, accentuated his masculine features, giving him an aura of ruggedness that made Red’s breath hitch.
Because there was no doubt about it; this was the manliest of men on his knees before Red.
He was older than Red for sure—a good handful of winters older. His broad shoulders and muscular chest spoke of raw power, and made Red feel like a feeble twig in comparison. Wim stood and stretched his arms behind his back. A thick dusting of dark hair covered his chest, trailing down to…
Red jerked his gaze away, heat rising to his cheeks. He cleared his throat, willing away the sudden dryness in his mouth. “Do you often wander about stark naked?” he asked, aiming for a haughty tone but falling short.
Wim chuckled—a deep, rumbling sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Red’s spine. “Not when it’s this cold, no.” He disappeared into the tree line, returning with a large pack, bulging at the seams. He pulled out a pair of breeches, fur-lined boots, a layered tunic and a thick wool cloak.
As Wim dressed, Red found his eyes drawn back to the man’s form. He couldn’t help but fixate on the way Wim’s muscles flexed as he moved, the grace with which he carried himself. Wim had implied earlier that he was starving—like most of Falchovari was—but his muscular body suggested otherwise.
There was no denying it. This stranger was effortlessly attractive for a commoner. It was infuriating.
Red shook his head, banishing such thoughts. This was ridiculous. Wim was a beast, a ‘wildling,’ someone who had threatened to eat him mere hours ago. He needed to banish these absurd, preposterous thoughts. He was on a grand quest, a mission from the Queen herself.
Yet he heard himself saying, “You have the same colour eyes. You and your wolf.”
“That I do.” Wim kneeled, reaching for Red’s firepit.
Without hesitation, Red surged forward. “I don’t need help from the likes of you!” He gathered up his fragile bundle of kindling, only to have Wim yank the wood out of his hand.
“Well, you’re charming,” Wim said. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Plenty, actually.”
An icy gust of wind blew through the small clearing, and Red sighed, moving away to perch on a large log. If this dog wanted to build a fire, Red would be a fool to stop him.
Wim pulled a small metal contraption from his pack. With a few deft movements, the man struck sparks onto the kindling. Flames licked upwards, catching quickly. Heat bloomed outwards, and Red couldn’t help but lean closer, savouring the warmth that chased away the chill that had made its home in his bones.
When Wim helped himself to Red’s cooking pot, Red didn’t stop him.
