Page 94 of Little Red Riding Hood
“My love, my love, my love…” She scattered the ashes into the air, watching them float down like twisted snow. Her fingers scraped against the floorboards, desperate to collect every speck. “Gone, gone, gone…”
Wim’s skin grew colder beneath Red’s touch. His chest barely moved with each shallow breath, the rise and fall becoming weaker by the second.
“Do something!” The scream tore from Red’s throat, raw and desperate as he watched his mother’s manic movements. “I know you’re hurting, but he’s gone now! My father is dead, but Wim might yet be saved! Please! He’s all I have.”
The words echoed in the cottage’s silence.All I have.The truth of it struck Red like a physical blow. No family, no real home, no place to truly belong—except here, with this infuriating, protective, beautiful man who’d claimed his heart between stolen kisses and shared laughter.
Wim was his anchor in a world that had never wanted him. His safe harbour in a lifetime of storms.
And now he was slipping away, taking Red’s heart with him.
Oma continued to scrape at the ashes, her nails leaving marks in the floorboards. Her mumbling grew louder, more frantic, a stream of nonsense punctuated by broken sobs. She crawled through the glittering remains of the hellhound, her skirts dragging trails through the dust.
“My love, my love…” She pressed her face into the ashes, inhaling deeply. “Your scent still lingers, even now. Do you remember how we danced beneath the blood moon? How you’d bring me darkwood flowers that only bloomed at midnight?”
If his mother had an ounce of sanity before, there was nothing left now.
Red’s hands trembled as he held pressure on Wim’s wounds. “Please,” he begged. “Please,mother. Help him.”
But Oma seemed lost in her memories, swaying back and forth as she clutched handfuls of dust to her chest. “We were going to raise our child together. Watch him grow strong and beautiful. But she took it all away. Everything, everything, everything…”
Suddenly, she stilled. Her head snapped up, eyes fixing on Red’s face with an intensity that made him flinch. She crawled towards him, leaving smears of ash in her wake.
“My son.” Her cold hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing away tears he hadn’t realised were falling. “My baby boy.” Her voice faltered as she studied his features, drinking in every detail. “From the moment I felt you kick inside me, you had me. All of me. My love, my soul, my heart. I swore I’d do anything to keep you safe. But it wasn’t enough! She took you from me!”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead against his. The scent of herbs and decay clung to her skin. Her gaze drifted to Wim’s prone form, taking in the blood-soaked cloak pressed against his wounds.
“Will he take good care of you, this wolf of yours?”
“Yes!” Red clutched Wim’s hand tighter, his voice infused with desperation. “The very best. He’s protected me, cared for me, shown me what it means to be loved. Please, help him.”
Oma’s eyes softened as she gazed at their joined hands. A strange calm settled over her features, smoothing away the wild despair that had twisted them moments before. “Very well, my love.” Her cold fingers pressed against Red’s chest, right above his thundering heart. “Take good care of my heart.”
Before Red could say anything else, she began to sing—an eerie melody that made the cottage’s shadows dance. Green light spiralled from her fingertips, wrapping around her form like ethereal vines. The hellhound’s ashes rose from the floor, swirling through the air in a glittering tornado that engulfed them all.
The magic pulsed through Red’s chest where she touched him, spreading outward in waves of emerald fire. It flowed down his arms, through his hands, and into Wim’s wounds. The acidic burns began to heal, flesh knitting back together as Oma’s form grew increasingly translucent. Her song reached a crescendo, then abruptly halted.
Now shimmering like cobwebs in sunlight, Oma bent down. She pressed her fading lips against Wim’s ear, whispering words in an ancient tongue that Red didn’t understand before she straightened, her eyes meeting his one final time.
Then her body burst into thousands of tiny green fireflies that scattered across Wim’s skin, each one sinking in and leaving healed flesh in its wake.
Red stared at the spot where his mother had vanished, her sacrifice burning behind his eyelids. A maelstrom of emotions churned in his chest—grief for the parents he’d barely known, gratitude for her final gift, and an overwhelming need to ensure it hadn’t been in vain.
A gentle squeeze of his hand yanked him from his thoughts. Amber eyes fluttered open, still glazed with pain but unmistakably alive. Wim’s chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his skin warm and whole beneath Red’s trembling fingers.
“Wim!” Red traced the unmarked skin where deadly wounds had been moments before. “I thought—god, I thought you’d left me.”
“Not a chance.” Wim’s large hand cupped Red’s cheek, where tears still streamed. “Never. It would take more than a hellhound soulstealer to keep me from you, sweetheart.”
Red surged forward, crushing their lips together. The kiss tasted of salt and copper, desperate and deep. He swung a leg over Wim’s hips, straddling his lap as strong arms wrapped around his waist. Wim’s mouth opened beneath his, a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest as Red’s fingers tangled in his hair.
Their breaths mingled as Wim pressed their lips together, again and again. Red devoured each kiss hungrily, like they were the only sustenance he needed. He poured everything he couldn’t quite say into the kiss—his fear, his relief, his overwhelming need to feel Wim alive beneath him. Wim responded with equal fervour, one hand sliding up Red’s spine to cradle the back of his head, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear.
Eventually Red drew back, pressing his swollen lips together to smile shyly at Wim. His fingers slid up Wim’s arm to land on his bite wound. Oma’s magic had healed all of his other wounds—so why not that one too? But the raised, hot flesh still remained, and Wim hissed in pain at Red’s touch.
“Is your beast still lurking within you?”
Wim’s eyes squeezed shut, and a silence stretched.
