Page 6 of Little Red Riding Hood
“That rabbit of Hansel’s hit the spot.” There was an odd smirk on Wim’s face. “Kept some of the bigger bones.” Wim brought out a handful of grisly animal bones from his bag, and tossed them into the pot, then tipped in the contents of a leather waterskin.
Red watched as Wim tended to the fire, his fingers itching to take over. He’d always prided himself on his survival skills, honed under the tutelage of the Queen’s huntsman. Yet here he was, relying on a wildling to keep him warm.
The aroma of simmering broth filled the air, making Red’s stomach growl traitorously. He hadn’t realised how famished he was until that moment. Wim stirred the pot with a wooden spoon he’d produced from his pack, humming a low tune that Red didn’t recognise.
“Got any vegetables?” Wim asked hopefully.
Red blinked, caught off-guard by the mundane question. It seemed absurd, discussing vegetables with a man like Wim. “No. I… ran out of rations this morning.”
Wim sighed, then perused his pack again, leafing through packets of herbs before sprinkling some into the pot. Soon the broth bubbled and steamed, filling the air with a tantalising scent that made Red’s mouth water.
“Won’t be long now,” Wim said, stirring the pot. “Best get some food in you. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
Red bristled at the comment, drawing himself up straighter. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much. I don’t need your concern.”
Wim raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips. “Suit yourself. But don’t be surprised if you faint from hunger in the middle of your grand quest, sweetheart.”
Red’s cheeks burnt at the sarcastic endearment. He opened his mouth to retort, but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, betraying him.
Wim chuckled, the sound deep and rich. His pupils were like molten gold, gleaming in the firelight. “Sounds like your belly’s telling a different tale.”
Red scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine. But how much energy do you think I’ll get from a ladle of bone broth?”
There was no reply. The wolf must have known Red had a solid point. If he didn’t find food somehow in the morning, he wouldn’t survive much longer out here. Red should have demanded more rations, but the kitchen master had insisted Red would be able to hunt small game along the route. So far, the only rabbit he’d seen had been the one those handsome men had.
Wim ladled the steaming broth into a wooden bowl and passed it to Red. The warmth seeped through, warming his cold fingers. He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the liquid suspiciously, but the enticing aroma proved too tempting to resist.
Red took a cautious sip. The rich, savoury flavour exploded on his tongue, a symphony of herbs and a hint of meat that made his taste buds sing. Before he could stop himself, a small moan of pleasure escaped his lips.
“This is… actually quite good,” Red admitted, then immediately regretted his words. He shouldn’t be complimenting this wildling’s cooking, no matter how delicious it was.
Wim gave him a smug smile. “Well now, I’m glad it meets your royal standards, sweetheart.”
Red’s cheeks burnt even hotter. “Stop calling me that!”
After a chuckle, Wim said, “Go on, then. What’s this grand errand Her Majesty’s got you running? One that will magically solve the famine?” He seemed to repress a laugh.
“It’s hardly a laughing matter,” Red snapped, his grip tightening on the wooden bowl. “People are starving across the kingdom. Children go to bed with empty bellies, and the elderly waste away in their homes.”
Wim’s smirk faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. “Aye, I know plenty about this famine’s bite. My pack… we’ve buried our share.”
Red’s brow furrowed. “The crops have failed for three seasons now. Even the palace stores are running low. Residents outside of the Queen’s close court, like myself, haven’t had enough to eat in months. The Queen fears riots if we can’t find a solution soon.”
“And you reckon this quest will solve everything?” Wim’s tone was skeptical, but not mocking.
Red nodded. “The Queen’s advisors discovered an ancient prophecy. They believe the Great Famine is a curse that can only be broken by…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure if he should reveal theexactdetails of his mission to this stranger.
Wim leaned forward, the flicks of gold in his eyes intensifying in the firelight. “By what?”
“By the death of a powerful witch,” Red finished. “Old Oma, they call her. The Queen believes she’s the source of the famine.”
Wim’s reaction to the witch’s name was subtle, but Red caught it nonetheless. The man’s shoulders tensed, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he schooled his features back into a mask of indifference.
“Old Oma, you say?” Wim’s voice was carefully neutral, but there was an undercurrent of… something Red couldn’t quite place. “And you believe killing her will end the famine?”
Red nodded, watching Wim closely. “The Queen’s advisors are certain of it. They’ve studied the ancient texts for months.”
Wim’s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath his skin. He turned away, pretending to stir the pot of broth, but Red could see the way his knuckles whitened around the wooden spoon.
