Author's note: This is my first fanfic EVER, so please review! It would really help me out and encourage me to continue the story if any of you enjoy the concept. I always regretted that the writers killed off Sheriff Graham so early when he had so much potential! Am I the only one who thought that he and Ruby would have been so cute together? Anyways, hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: It goes without saying that I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of the characters - Graham wouldn't be dead if I did...

The crisp autumn wind whipped fallen leaves through the forest and over the narrow dirt road, forming a soft carpet that covered the bootprints and ruts from carriage wheels that had traveled the same road. Strange whistles and howling noises resounded through the tree tops as the wind increased its speed. Red shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around herself, but it was a shiver generated from the cold rather than fear.

The sounds of the forest were no longer frightening to her; her sharp hearing and sensitive nose could quickly sort out the source of the commotion, whether it was an owl or snake out for the hunt, or a small chipmunk or mouse trying its best not to become something else's dinner. She tried to ignore the soft staccato steps that indicated a small deer was nearby; even when she wasn't a wolf, her stomach growled hungrily when prey was near.

Red remembered when she had first met Snow White, and had told her friend that she could track anything if she wanted it. Red had always felt a connection to the forest. Before, she had assumed that it was because she had lived at the forest's edge her whole life, in a tiny cottage that barely served as protection from the forces of nature.

Most of the men in her village were hunters and woodcutters, and even the children often preferred exploring the woods rather than finding games indoors. It was not uncommon for women to be adept at tracking and hunting, so Red had thought nothing of it.

Now, however, she knew it was more than just her upbringing; that the forest called to the wolf inside her.

A shudder ripped through her as it always did when she thought about what she was, and the pain she had caused. Faces swam up at her out of the dark recesses of her mind – the faces of the men in hunting parties that the Wolf had ripped to shreds without hesitation.

Those first few nights after she had found out the truth had been unbearable; she had yearned for death, for anything to end the agony of her guilt. If it hadn't been for Snow, she might have harmed herself irreparably as penalty for all that she had done.

"Kill me, please kill me," Red begged. She curled in on herself and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the crushing guilt and sorrow. She wanted to scream, to break things and throw herself against a wall until she lay broken and bleeding on the ground. Every time she fell asleep she saw Peter's face staring back at her accusingly. It was as though she could still feel his blood on her hands. "Please, Snow, please kill me."

Snow simply cradled Red's shaking body against her own and stroked her hair. "It wasn't your fault, Red," she murmured soothingly. "You have to forgive yourself; it wasn't your fault."

"All those people," Red moaned, barely hearing the other girl. "I killed them all. I killed so many. I killed fathers, husbands, brothers. I killed Peter." Red tried not to imagine how Peter had felt in his last moments, but the images assaulted her anyways – Peter wrapped in cold chains and watching the woman he had grown up with transform into a monster, and the sharp teeth that cut off his pleas by tearing his throat out. Snow gently dabbed at Red's tear-stained cheeks with a handkerchief.

"I'm here for you," she whispered softly in Red's ear. "You can't give up. I need you. Your grandmother needs you. The Wolf may be a part of you, but it's not all of you. Never stop fighting, Red."

Red looked down at the empty basket that had just been full of food. She was more than willing to help Snow out in any way she could, though right now that simply meant supplying her with fresh food a couple times a month while her friend hid herself away in the woods near Red's home.

She remembered when she had finally asked Snow why the young woman was on the run, and how she came to hide in their chicken coop when she had been frightened of the wolf's howling. Snow had told her all about her stepmother, and why she was wanted by the Queen. Snow blamed herself for the death of the Queen's former lover, though Red thought she was being ridiculous. She couldn't see how Regina's former lover had anything to do with Snow, or why she was being punished for it now.

Red vowed to forgive herself when Snow did the same.

The faint outline of the cottage appeared out of the darkness once Red crested the hill. A friendly curl of smoke wound up from the chimney. Red smiled, marveling at the inviting glow emanating from the few windows set into the side of the cottage.

Granny no longer insisted on closing the shutters now that Red knew the truth about what she was. Her smile widened the closer she grew to the only home she'd ever known. It wasn't that long ago that she had been dying to leave this place, to run away with Peter and never look back. Things were much different now.

"I'm back, Granny," Red called as she shouldered the heavy wooden door open. It gave a slight groan as she entered the tiny cottage. She set her basket down on a nearby table, but then jerked her head up violently as her nose was assaulted by an all-too familiar scent: blood.

"Granny?" she called out apprehensively, fear sharpening her senses. She followed the strong tangy scent into the kitchen, her ears pricked for the slightest sound. "Granny?"

The old woman was propped up morbidly in the kitchen chair surrounded by a pool of her own blood. Her eyes stared vacantly up through broken glasses at the ceiling while blood oozed out of various deep gashes all over her body, her dress stained a deep scarlet. Red screamed and rushed to the old woman's side, tears blurring her vision.

She rapidly sucked in deep breaths to help her stop shaking and focus on the problem at hand, but, combined with the over-powering metallic scent, only served to make her dizzy and nearly pass out.

"Granny! Please, please, you can't die! Granny, please wake up!" Red cried hoarsely, fumbling for her grandmother's hand, which was slick with blood. She continued to mumble random assurances and pleads with her grandmother, but the old woman would not stir. Red let out a loud wail, but was cut short by an unexpected noise.

She halted her keening and cocked her head to make sure she had heard correctly, then pressed her ear against the other woman's chest. Her grandmother's heart gave a faint flutter; barely audible, but it meant that she was still alive.

Red scrambled for some cloths to staunch the blood, but once she got back she realized that there were too many open wounds to cover.

Fighting back her rising hysteria, she tried to rack her brain for anything that might help. Surely there must be some herb or remedy that could restore her grandmother. The hope that had formed inside her leaked away painfully as she realized that the injured woman's wounds were too severe.

The only thing that could bring the near-dead back to life was –

Magic.

Red had heard stories of miraculous recoveries made with the help of magic. The villagers told tales of sinister magicians and powerful warlocks who could perform the impossible, but most of the stories were of men who had lived centuries ago. She didn't know who could help her now.

A name slowly surfaced out of the jumbled mass of her panic-laden thoughts. She forced her mind to concentrate, to remember the name of the man who might be able to help. He was the one the villagers feared the most. He was the one used as a scare tactic for little boys and girls who were naughty.

"If you ever try to steal a piece of pie before dinner again," Red had once overheard a woman telling her young child in the street, "the Deal-Maker will come and snatch you out of your bed at night, and no one will ever see you again."

The Deal-Maker. The Trickster. The Dark One.

Her eyes widened as the information she needed abruptly came to her, and despite her throat already being scratched raw, she screamed out the name at the top of her lungs.

"Rumplestiltskin!"