Wolf-Woman
Another Red Beauty oneshot for HollowShadowWolf on Tumblr! Hope you enjoy, luv! Ta! xo
Disclaimer: OUAT don't belong to me! And this is unbeta-d, as I don't have a beta!
There was something of a wolf about her.
The girl-without-a-name regarded the woman—Ruby, she said her name was Ruby—asleep in the chair by her bed, slumped forward onto the mattress, dark brown hair spilling onto the pale blue coverlet.
The wolf-woman moved restlessly in her sleep, and the nameless one imagined paws paddling in the air. The corners of her mouth turned up and her eyes traced the curve of the woman's jaw, imagining a soft muzzle. The imagery seemed so clear to the lost one, ingrained into her consciousness like a memory… despite her utter lack of them. She swallowed, wondering why animal metaphors projected onto this woman seemed ever so familiar but the old man who seemed to force himself on her at every turn was a complete stranger in every way.
The dark-haired-one stirred in her sleep, lips curling up in a toothy grin, and the girl-without-a-name stared openly, fascinated. Why did she keep imagining sharp teeth? And why didn't she feel afraid?
You are not a monster, she whispered.
She combed her mind for wolves: images of them, stories about them. She couldn't find anything from… before. But she HAD read about them since, recently, in fact. Her eyes swung to the big brown book by her bed; the one brought and read to her yesterday by the cheerful little boy with the bright eyes, brown hair, and big smile. She remembered a story about the girl in the red hood and the wolf that took over her body to make her do unspeakable things until she learned to control it. It sounded utterly horrible—to have power over the people you love and fear losing them at your own hand. She had inwardly cheered for Red, the heroine, when she had conquered her fear of the wolf inside of her and accepted all of herself in order to protect those she loved.
So brave, she murmured.
The nameless one reached out a trembling hand and touched a lock of dark brown hair that reached out from the chaotic mass of curls that spilled over the wolf-woman's—Ruby, she calls herself Ruby—pale, pointed face. The hair slid across her skin like silk and she forgot how to breathe.
Ruby—the wolf-woman, always the wolf-woman—twitched and flushed in her sleep, as if she knew her body was being perused.
The girl-without-a-name swallowed deeply, feeling something deep and dark and delicious stirring inside of her, but she did not pull away. She would wait until the wolf-woman woke and then she would ask about this hunger inside of her. Her fingertips followed the strand of hair and curved over a soft cheek.
Ruby—the wolf-woman, only the wolf-woman—would know what to do.