As could be assumed about a family that purposely housed at the mouth of the forest, miles and miles away from the rest of civilization, poor Little Red Riding Hood (or Red, as her grandmother had so affectionately nicknamed her) lived with a less than extroverted family. At the intersection of Somewhere and Nowhere sat a very slight, quaint structure; more shack than house, it was made completely out of brick with a red, wooden roof that leaked when it rained and caused drafts come winter. Within, it was complete with the creaky floorboards and ancient novelties that are to be expected of a creepy house at the mouth of the woods. To the sparse neighbors miles to the left and right of this homely home, the spot was thought of with enmity and disdain.
To Red, it was where her heart belonged and, for a long time, it remained that way.
Being brought up with farmer's blood coursing through her veins, rising with the morning sun was a trait Red inherited and shared with everyone in the household. As she rose with sleep eyes and awful bedhead, she knew from daily routine that her father was tending to the saplings in the makeshift greenhouse he'd built out back to help brave the winter weather. Meandering into the restroom and pulling her hair into two loose pigtails, Red quickly deduced that Mom was in the kitchen, the scent of strawberry pancakes pervading her very soul. Just as she did every day, Red skipped downstairs, all but inhaled her hearty breakfast, and was going to don a pair of overalls to go milk the cows, when her mother pulled her aside, saying she had a different job today.
"Red, you remember going on those trips to Granny's house with me, don't you?"
She nodded, quietly trying to sneak another strawberry pancake onto her plate while her mother's back was still turned. "Yeah, I do. Wow, it's been forever since we've visited…"
"Yes, it has. Back then, you were small enough to fit in the basket!"
Grandma. It had been years since she'd thought of—heck, even seen the elderly woman. From what the girl could recall, she was very kind to her, but very callous whenever her parents brought up the subject of her moving in with them in her frail, old age. The lady clung to her independence like a lion to a gazelle's neck, and slowly Red's visits to her house became fewer and fewer until it seemed to her that all ties had been cut. That was five years ago: Now, Red was the ripe age of eleven, her body maturing into a fine young women with a mind that was desperately trying to catch up.
Red's interest was finally captured when her mother opened what she coined the "Candy Closet" and withdrew the wicker basket from all those years ago. She set it on the table and continually loaded it with mouthwatering, sugary snacks as she spoke.
"Red, you're such an amazing child, and I just hate the fact that this," she said, gesticulating to the house around them, "is all we can offer you. Every day, you work your heart out and you loved Granny so much that I just…I just want you to be happy, and in the middle of nowhere, there aren't many friends to choose from, now are they?" A sad smile tugged at her lips, and though Red wanted to comfort her, she didn't know how.
The frown did not stay for long. After being instructed to wear some prettier clothes on her journey ("You're seeing your granny aft five years, after all!") as well as being briefed on where to go, Red was startled when their conversation took a more curious turn. Out from the cutlery drawer, she pulled a knife, big and sharp enough to carry out its purpose, but small enough to fit in her still-growing hands and to be craftily concealed, as her mother suggested she do.
"But…why would I need to do that? We've gone out there tons of times before and nothing happened. What's so different now?"
"What's different now is that you're out there all alone," she answered simply, the concern evident in her voice. "When you go into the woods, you've got to be prepared for anything to happen—anything. I just want my baby prepared. Now, go ahead, get dressed and get going while it's still light out, I want you back before dark."
With that, Red bounded up the stairs and changed into a frilly white and red dress, white stockings, and mahogany brow boots. Last but not least, she slipped into her cherry red cape and hood. It only felt right to do so, knowing that it was her grandmother that made it when she told her the woods always scared her a little. According to Granny, thought Red, as long as I'm wearing this, there's nothing to fear. As she stepped out the door, clutching the loaded basket in one hand and the puny knife in the other, she silently prayed that rung true.
~R~
The morning wind was light but crisp as Red trekked down the slightly worn path to her grandmother's house, the cold chipping at her ruddy features. Slowly glancing from the trees on her left to the trees on her right as she walked, she pulled the hood over her head and the cape more closely to her chest. It was then that it occurred to her that she was thoroughly frightened of things she'd never even seen before and it hadn't even been fifteen minutes yet. Definitely the behavior of a competent, soon-to-be independent young woman.
"You're just being paranoid," she whispered to herself, willing her legs to go just a hair faster, "so paranoid that you're talking to yourself." Mentally, she kicked herself.
"Now, stop being a baby, stick to the path, and-"
A good twenty feet up ahead there stood a dark figure, tall and slender in frame. Though the distance made it harder to tell, it appeared to be a person—a man, to be more precise—though something akin to furry ears stood erect atop his head. Before Red could question what she was looking at any further, the apparition came wearily toppling down onto the hard, dusty earth below.
Frightened, Red dashed towards the figure, stopping ten feet shy of the crumpled body when she realized that this particular spectacle was a little ways of the path. The haunting words of her mother were still within her, mind and soul, but if there was a possibility to help someone in need…
Making up her mind, Red threw back her hood and took confident steps off the path and onto the grass, her boots crunching as she knelt beside him. Him—now that she was able to get a closer look, she was quiet sure that he had to be a man, years older than her but much younger than her father, given his rather wayward mustache and stubbly beard. His hair was dark and his eyes were shut tight; his mouth was only slightly agape, and yet sharp, razor-like teeth were clearly seen poking and prodding the interior. Glancing down, she could see his extremely strange attire, hairy hands, and nails one could slice a cake with. Altogether, Red didn't know what to make of the character, nor how he came to be in her neck of the woods. And yet, here they were.
Remembering her intent for rushing to the decidedly handsome stranger, Red placed a gentle hand against his forehead. Even with the whipping cold around them, it was clear that the man was near freezing to death. Looking at his face, she saw that his normal pallor was taking on a bluish hue. It was as Red was about to rummage through her basket for something to aid him when his charcoal eyes snapped open. With a gentle but firm hand, the stranger seized the wrist that had been touching his forehead, eliciting from Red a sudden yelp of surprise. Wrist still in his hand, he sat up.
"What are you doing in the woods, little girl?"
His words were gravelly, almost sultry in tone; his voice was only slightly above a whisper, and if they hadn't been so close at that moment, the wind might have carried his words off with it. Red answered his question curtly, for she felt there were clearly more pressing matters at hand. She still had hold of her little dagger, though her palm sweated merely at the thought of having to use it.
"G-Going…to see my granny, sir," she said, feeling more like she'd hiccuped instead of spoken actual words. His grip loosened, and she instantly scooted a few feet away, taking the basket with her. Red stood to her feet and, though she had half a mind to bolt then and there, she couldn't help but inquire about his health.
"Um…," she began, eyes taking sudden interest in the dirt covering her shoes. By this time, the man had stood (doing so with more difficulty than he would care to admit) and propped himself up against a tree, arms crossed. "Are you ill, sir? I was walking and happened to see you fall over. I wanted to see if I could help at all."
The man raised a thick, furry brow at this confession, and it took him a few seconds to summon a suitable reply. "You said you were going to see your grandmother, correct?"
Red hesitantly nodded.
"Then you're wasting time, alone, in the thick of the woods with someone you've never met. Surely at you're village they've spun tales of pretty girls such as yourself getting gobbled up when they go into the forest. Run while I allow it." A sick grin had gradually overtaken his features as he spoke, giving Red a view of just how dangerous they could be. However, she sensed a noncommittal air to his little speech and pressed on, removing a warm flask of brandy and two yeast rolls. These were supposed to be for Granny, but it's still doing some good… To carry it all, she had to leave her only means of defense inside the basket.
"I don't come from a village and haven't heard of these stories," she began, steadily inching her way closer to him, "but I sincerely hope you favor the taste of liquor and bread more than the bones of children." His eyes flickered from her face to the offering in her hands. When it looked like he might refuse, she said, "Please, sir, you're shivering!"
Red heard a low, carnal rumble emit from the depths of his chest as he took the food and drink roughly from her hands. She watched on in horror as he sloppily drained the brandy in one large gulp, making short work of the rolls after it. Soon, color began visibly returning to his face. It was as he swallowed the last crumb that Red noticed something moving behind him, wagging to and fro.
It was a tail.
A tail.
Dear God, that man has a tail.
Red's eyes grew to the size of saucers, and when the man followed her line of vision, a huge smirk broke onto his face, which soon evolved into mirth-filled laughter at her expense. Though still shocked by her discovery, a small pout still found its way onto her face given his rude lack of decorum.
"Not an observant gal, are we?" This question was followed by another one-sided bought of laughter. Red's hands gravitated to her hips. She was really wishing she had kept her knife right then.
"What are you, then?" Red shouted, frustrated by his taunts.
"What am I?" He echoed, pausing to feign deep thought. "Some call me a nightmare, others call me a villain. I've never called myself anything, simply due to the fact that I don't talk to myself, unlike other people…"
Red felt her cheeks go scarlet at his little quip, and let her words flow without thought. "Really, now? W-Well, sir, I know what you are!"
"Is that so?" he sneered. "I don't think you do: you wouldn't call me sir if you knew what I was."
"You're right," Red fumed, "because you're nothing but a mangy hound!"
"A fair guess, clever girl!" The man got uncomfortably close to her, seizing her by the chin before she could get away. His breath felt hot against her skin, and his eyes burned into her own. She cringed, shuttering her eyes as his thin lips got closer to her face. Softly, even softer than a whisper, he said in her ear, "I've always been partial to the name Wolf."
What happened next was a blur.
Though her eyes were still shut tight, Red felt a feather-light kiss against her temple, as well as the weight of the picnic basket being removed from her hand. When she opened her eyes, she saw a dog—no, a wolf darting in the direction of her grandmother's house. To surmise, Red began her journey home cold, confused, and freshly kissed.
A/N: So, was this good...or just nice? *shot*
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