Page 55 of Little Red Riding Hood
“Here.” Red pulled out a silver coin, pressing it into the merchant’s palm. “For the bread and your… inconvenience.” He fixed the man with a cold stare, channelling every ounce of the haughty palace attitude he’d learned from dealing with nobility. “I trust that will suffice?”
The merchant’s fingers closed around the coin, greed overtaking anger in his eyes. “Y-yes, I suppose it will.”
“Excellent.” Red’s voice dripped with disdain. “Now, I believe my friend would appreciate it if you apologised to the boy.”
The merchant’s face twisted, but he muttered a grudging apology. Wim released him with a warning growl, and the man stumbled back, straightening his rumpled clothes.
Red turned to the gathered crowd, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing more to see here, unless you’re interested in purchasing some extortionately priced feathers?”
A few nervous murmurs broke the tension. The crowd began to disperse, their attention already drawn back to their own desperate situations.
Red helped the boy to his feet, pressing another coin into his small hand. “Get yourself something proper to eat, you hear? If you can find it.”
The child’s eyes widened at the coin. He nodded vigorously before darting away into the crowd.
Wim’s jaw clenched as they walked away from the market stalls. His shoulders were rigid, tension radiating off him in waves that made Red’s heart thump.
“That silver could have fed three families,” Wim said, dangerously quiet.
Red lifted his chin. “I prevented a riot.”
“You rewarded that bastard for abusing a child!” Wim spun to face him, eyes flashing. “Is that how your nobles handle everything? Throw money at problems until they disappear?”
“Don’t speak of me as if I’m one of them.” Red jabbed a finger at Wim’s chest. “Do you think Iwantedto give that vile man coin? But what was your plan exactly? Shift into a wolf in the middle of the market? Rip his throat out in front of everyone?”
“He deserved far worse than to walk away with coin in his pocket!”
“And what about that boy? What happens to him after we leave?” Red’s different-coloured eyes blazed. “That merchant would have taken his revenge on every street child he could find. Instead, I made him look foolish in front of his customers. Hit him where it actually hurts—his pride and his profits.”
Wim’s nostrils flared. “There are other ways—”
“No. Sometimes you have to play their game to win.” Red’s words softened. “You think I don’t know what it’s like? To be small and helpless while someone bigger decides your fate?” He swallowed hard. “That boy needs to survive in this town long after we’re gone. I bought him a chance to do that.”
Wim stared at him for a long moment, the anger slowly draining from his face. His massive shoulders slumped.
“You did what you had to.” Wim ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I just… seeing that man hurt the kid…”
“I know.” Red softened his tone. “But there’s always a choice to make, you know? I chose to feed the snake to stop it from biting the child.”
Desperate to recapture the lightness they’d shared earlier, Red grabbed Wim’s sleeve and tugged him towards a textile merchant’s stall. Unlike the others, this one still had wares worth considering—two wool blankets that, while patched in places, appeared thick enough to ward off the autumn chill. The elderly woman behind the stall named a steep price, her gnarled fingers smoothing over the rough wool. Wim haggled briefly before counting out the coins. “Winter’s coming,” he murmured, tucking the rolled blankets under his arm. “Nights are only getting colder.”
Next, they headed to what remained of the food stalls. The pickings were slim—a few wrinkled apples, some withered mushrooms, and root vegetables that had seen better days. The prices were heart-stopping, but with their newfound wealth, they could afford what most couldn’t.
“How are people surviving on this?” Red murmured, examining a stunted carrot that cost more than a servant’s daily wage at the palace.
“They’re not,” Wim replied grimly. “Not well, anyway.”
Wim selected the best of what was available—a handful of wild mushrooms, some wizened garlic, and herbs that were more stem than leaf. A few small potatoes and carrots joined their haul, along with a tiny jar of honey whose cost seemed particularly unreasonable.
Red peered into their basket. “What exactly are you planning with… this?”
“Venison with forest mushrooms. Not exactly the feast I’d hoped for, but…” He shrugged. “I’ll make it work. I’m going to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had… cooked in a single pot in the middle of the woods, that is.”
Red laughed softly. He squeezed Wim’s forearm, then caught himself about to reach up to press a kiss to his cheek.
Don’t get carried away, Red.That’s a dangerous game.
As the sun dipped lower, the few remaining merchants began packing up. Red spotted a wine seller preparing to close shop, hiswares mostly untouched. In these times, wine was a luxury few could afford.
