"There was once a sweet little maid, much beloved by everybody, but most of all by her grandmother, who never knew how to make enough of her. Once she sent her a little red riding hood of red velvet, and as it was very becoming of her, and she never wore anything else, people called her Little Red Riding Hood." Little Red Riding Hood, Brothers Grimm
Thick branches clawed at the great black wolf's fur and the mud gripped at his feet, trying to slow him as he ran. Tree roots rose from the ground to catch his paws and the violent rain and deafening thunder pounded at his senses. The Forest did not wish him to escape his crime this time.
You do not wish me to escape, and yet you showed me where they live! You lead me to my prey in my hour of darkness, and now you shield me from the moon, return to me my light so that I might feel the guilt for what I could not have stopped…
But the wolf knew the Forest well and was more than a capable match. He pushed to run faster. Well you can no longer control me…
As if the Forest had heard his thoughts and taken them as a challenge, the trees suddenly leaned back, bending away from him with a series of horrible, condemning cracks. His path was left a clear and wide canyon, letting in a harsher stream of rain and perfect vulnerability to the gray-black sky.
The wolf froze, the weight of his abrupt halt making a loud squelch in the thick mud.
No…please…
For an instant, the wolf thought he was safe, but he was only permitted to hear the shouts of the approaching villagers, closer now, before the smoky clouds parted just enough to reveal the bright, full moon.
The wolf roared in anguish that consumed his great body, forcing it to swell and grow until his shoulder was the height of a man. His jaws and feet seared in torturous pain as each fang and claw stretched to thicker, longer, and sharper weapons. Every thought and emotion racing through him, his very spirit was forced aside and his buried bloodlust and craving for murder surfaced and took control.
He turned and took a step toward the direction he had come; the villagers' scent was strong…
Suddenly, he turned his great head away again. Something new had caught the attention of his soulless, hungry mind. A girl's scream had echoed through the trees.
Rowena shivered as she sat on a high branch in a maple tree, leaning against the upper trunk, her long red hair, white silk gown, and scarlet velvet cape wet with rain. She loved to watch storms like this from the treetops, storm clouds had such a dark and twisted beauty, and this particular maple had a perfect window-sized opening in the leaves by her favorite branch with a view of the whole forest, a blanket of hundreds of emerald treetops stretching to the horizon.
The storm was growing fierce. Rowena didn't mind being wet to the core, or ruining her white silk, but the branches had begun to sway treacherously in the wind's tumultuous grip, and she began to long for a cozy blanket in her cottage and the comforting warmth in front of the hearth.
In one fluid movement Rowena leapt gracefully from the tree and fell with the rain, through the Forest's canopy, until she caught a branch near the bottom and then swung from it to the earth, her bare feet landing with a splash of mud. Ignoring the deepening stains and tares in her skirt, Rowena hurried in the direction of her home, hood over her head to shield her eyes from the torrent of raindrops.
But suddenly, the branches of the trees before her twisted and stretched to block Rowena's path with a thick barrier of wood. She stopped. She didn't understand. The Forest always gave her easy passage to her home, why was it stopping her? What it upset with her? That couldn't be, Rowena had never harmed a creature or plant in this wood, and the Forest kept her safe and well for it. Deciding to trust it, she turned, slowly, and walked the way she had come, away from home.
Frightened, she began to run, knowing she must follow such direct orders but anxious to get the journey over with. Branches and roots and any obstacle slid aside, showing her the obvious path. She was going north, toward the fallen village Pleoh. She prayed she would not meet someone here, man or creature. Both were dangerous near Pleoh, where easily accessible magic liquors only made things worse.
Finally, about half way to the village, the trees stopped her again. Small rain still hit her face, but the trees above were thick enough now and she started to dry. It was the cold that struck her, and the even icier fact that she didn't know how to get home. It had grown to be a very dark night.
Rowena jumped, a roaring growl of animal pain tore through the night, not far away. She began to panic; a large creature rather near by was very angry… She gasped. Tonight was a full moon! It couldn't be… She backed up slowly, away from the noise, when a tree goblin leapt before her from above and grasped her wrists so suddenly and tightly that she screamed in fright and pain.
"Now, now, lass…" He hissed, fighting to grip her in his green hands against her struggles. "Let's not draw attention from the unkind…" He glanced in the direction of the growls, and then muttered a foreign spell Rowena could not hear. Instantly she felt numbness in her teeth and jaw, and when she tried to speak her teeth involuntarily bit hard on her own tongue. As the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth Rowena had to simply glare at the goblin and fight back tears of pain. He chuckled at her.
"You are a pretty one," He said. "Tell me, are you a witch or a fairy? I should like some wealth potion or fairy gold… You don't want me to have to kill you do you… Just nod if you're a witch. Come on…"
Rowena spat her blood in the goblin's red eyes and he screeched as orange welts formed on his green, pointed face. Creatures derived entirely from greed and lust for powerful magic, goblins were violently allergic to non-magical blood. He let go of one of her wrists to clutch his face.
"HUMAN!" He screamed in disgust. With a wrench Rowena's trapped hand was free, but just as she turned to run she felt the goblin's iron fist collide with the back of her head in an explosion of pain, and all was dark.