Page 60 of Little Red Riding Hood
The bandit leader spat. “You get what we agreed. You wanted revenge on the big one, we wanted their valuables. Fair trade.”
Red’s chest constricted. They’d been followed. All because Wim had stood up for that child at the market. And now their belongings were being ransacked, the golden arrow about to be stolen, Red’s throat likely about to be cut, and Wim was going to walk right into an ambush when he returned.
If he returns at all, a small voice whispered.Maybe he’s already abandoned you.
Red watched helplessly as the bandits gathered their belongings: their cooking pot, the sacks of fresh vegetables, their new blankets and the bedrolls, the clothes Wim had just shed, the remaining wine, their coin purses, and even the herbs they’d collected.
“What’s this?” One of the bandits held up the golden arrow, its shaft gleaming in the firelight. “This ain’t normal metal.”
The merchant’s eyes widened. “That should be worth at least another gold piece for me!”
Eyepatch barked out a laugh. “You got your payment. Be grateful for what you’ve got.”
“Wait!” Red screeched. “Please, take everything else, but leave that arrow.”
“And why would we do that?” Eyepatch’s good eye narrowed.
“It’s… cursed.” Red’s wine-addled mind scrambled for a convincing lie. “Anyone who touches it will die a horrible death within three days. Their insides will rot and—”
The bandits erupted in laughter. Red didn’t blame them.
“I’ll… trade anything for it.” The words tumbled from Red’s mouth before he could stop them.
Eyepatch’s lip curled. “Trade what exactly? We’ve taken everything you own.”
Red’s heart plummeted to his stomach. His gaze fell to the red cloak around his shoulders—his most precious item. But not more precious than his own life. “This cloak. It’s magical. It keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer. Never tears, never wears out. It’s a royal enchantment, very rare.”
“Is that so?” Eyepatch stepped closer, running the fabric between his fingers. A cruel smile spread across his face. “Well, if it’s that valuable, we’ll be taking that too.”
“No—”
Rough hands seized the cloak, yanking it from Red’s shoulders. The clasp at his throat snapped, the silver pieces falling into thedarkness as they wrenched it away. A choked sob escaped his lips before he could swallow it back—the only thing he had left of his mother, ripped away like everything else. The last thread connecting him to any sort of belonging, any hint of being wanted, severed.
The night air bit into his exposed skin, but the cold was nothing compared to the hollow ache spreading through his chest.Stupid, stupid, stupid. If he hadn’t drunk so much wine, if he hadn’t let his guard down, if he hadn’t been so desperate for Wim’s touch that the wolf left to fetch him water…
And now he’d lost the one thing he’d sworn to keep safe, the one treasure he’d managed to hold onto through all these winters.
He watched, helpless and shivering, as his cloak was tossed carelessly into their pile of stolen goods. The rich red fabric seemed to mock him, a reminder of every foolish decision that had led to this moment.
“These boots look nice and new too,” one of the bandits said, grabbing Red’s ankle.
“No!” Red cried. He hadn’t even realised he had one thing still left to lose.
They ignored his pleas and stripped the boots from his feet, leaving him bound and shivering in just his shirt and breeches.
Eyepatch’s boot connected with Red’s ribs, sending him sprawling face first into the dirt. His teeth sliced into his bottom lip, and copper flooded his mouth. Pain bloomed across his side as he struggled to draw breath against the dirty ground.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Eyepatch sneered.
The merchant’s boots crunched through the leaves as he approached. “Look at him. Pathetic.” He crouched down beside Red, fingers gripping Red’s chin and forcing his head up. “Your brute’s abandoned you, boy. Can’t say I blame him. Who’d want a freak with ugly eyes?” His thumb brushed Red’s cheekbone. “Though I suppose some might pay good coinfor something… unusual.”
Red jerked his face away, spitting blood onto the merchant’s boots. The merchant recoiled with a curse, wiping his boots on Red’s shirt.
“That beast of yours probably realised what an ugly little thing you are and ran for the hills.” The merchant’s lips curled into a cruel smile.
The merchant’s words burrowed deep. It was as if he somehow knew Red’s deepest insecurity, knew the very thing that had made the Queen despise him, and that had kept him from finding friendship or acceptance within the palace walls. And the man was right, Wim had clearly left him, repulsed by Red’s advances. Maybe he’d sobered up enough to realise what Red truly was—damaged, broken, unworthy—just like everyone else eventually did.
You’re nothing but an ugly, unwanted orphan. Unlovable.
