The snow fell thick and white from the dull gray sky that day and covered the land in a thick wintery blanket of purity. The snow lay unbroken upon the forest trails making the ground appear as one solid field of white, unbroken by either rock or plant. A chill wind blew through the bare trees causing an eerie whistle to sound that chilled the blood running through your veins.
Slowly done one of the many forested paths walked a man. He had thick gray hair, but his face was that of a much younger man. He seemed young and spry yet there was something about his manner that would lead one to believe that he had seen some great tragedy in his lifetime. He walked at a slow pace taking in his surroundings and being sure not to make a sound. As the wind whistled once more through the empty limbs, the man turned to look behind him. There was no sign of anyone else upon the path.
He stood in that spot for another few moments and then began to move on. He wore no coat or sweater, but it seemed that the cold snow and icy wind had no effect on him. He walked with a slight limp and upon his face was a look of pain. He had been injured in a hunter's trap that he had stumbled on. It had clamped down on his ankle causing a lot of pain and blood, but he was able to get himself out and move on before the hunter showed up.
He didn't take to kindly to hunters. He saw them as men no better than beasts who would kill anything just for the sake of killing it. Sadly for him no one shared his views and he had long since been shunned out of the nearby village. He had been living in the forest with his family for a long time, but slowly they had left one by one and never returned and now he was all alone. He had no shelter and no family to aid him in gathering food. He was hungry, tired, and hurt. All he wanted was a simple place he could rest his head.
He walked on for a while not sure how much time had passed when he came upon a small cottage. The corrage was painted white with bright red shutters over the windows and a red brick chimney poking up through the snow covered thatched roof. Smock billowed out of the chimney and the smell of the wood fire and cooking food drifted down through the wind to his nose. He smiled weakly and walked to the cherry red door and knocked three times. He waited patiently hoping that someone would be home and could give him aid.
There was no answer, so he knocked one more time. This time he could hear the shuffling steps of someone coming to the door. It opened slowly to reveal a small hunched over old woman with fly away gray hair and clouded eyes. She obviously did not see well and had been sleeping. The man gathered himself into as gentlemanly a pose as he could strick and introduced himself. He told the woman of his troubles and asked for her help. She very graciously welcomed him into her home and provided him with food and a blanket while she badly bandaged his injured ankle.
As he sat and ate by the warm fire watching the flames dance with life, the old woman made her way back to her bed and drifted into a deep sleep. A long time passed before the man realized that something was very wrong. He got to his feet, but his ankle was now so swollen that he had to drag it behind him, and made his way to the old lady's bedroom door. He quietly walked inside and over to her bed. She appeared to be sleeping, but upon further inspection he found that in her sleep she had passed on from this earthly bondage. He stepped back in horror.
What was he to do with a dead woman? What would the village hunters think? The Red Hoods were very protective of the townspeople and hated anyone who wasn't supposed to be there. If they found him in the old lady's house and her dead, they would blame him and take his head. However, he could not just leave the poor old woman who had been gracious enough to care for him and give him shelter. So he pulled the blankets over her and went to find some paper so that he could explain what had happened and get it to the next person he saw. He went into a back room and was there going through papers when he heard it.
A scream the rival that of the dying, it sent chills down his spine and he ran out of the back room and into the living room again. There in the center of the room stood a little girl no older than ten. She was dressed in a bright red hood. The man stopped and stared at her for a moment as she stared back a smirk upon her face. It suddenly dawned on him what had happened. He had been so tired and hungry that he hadn't noticed the signs. The red shutters, the trap only a mile or two out, and the old woman, how had he not realized? He had stumbled into one of the Red Hood cottages.
He stood still trying to think of a way out of the mess he was now in. Slowly the old woman emerged from the room, standing straight with bright cold gray eyes, and stood beside the young girl. The man ran to the door as it burst open throwing him across the room as a large hairy man walked in. He wore a bright red hood as well and carried a large axe in his hands.
They all stared down at him like he was some kind of animal. The red hooded man reached down and grabbed him by his arm and threw him to the other side of the house. The young man yelped and struggled to get up, but his legs would not support him and he crumpled back to the ground. The three of them laughed and laughed at the poor man and they continued to laugh as the mighty huntsman raised his axe and claimed the wolf's head.
The End