Little Red
Part 1
Long ago, in the Germanic Mountains existed the small village of Snow Haven. Surround by beautiful, rocky peaks and mysterious, dark forests, Snow Haven was virtually closed off from the outside world. So, while most of civilized Europe twittered on about discoveries made by Aquinas and Buridan, the people of Snow Haven clang tightly to superstitions and wives tales. This was well and good for most of the quaint villagers – most but not all. Jane Foster, youngest of the Foster clan at just seven and ten years of age, held the most inquisitive mind any of the locals had known in years.
"So like your grandfather," her paternal grandmother, the oldest living member of Snow Haven, would often say with a fond smile, "God rest his soul."
Jane's elder sister, Sif was not nearly as understanding. She, like many in the village, took a certain amount of offense to Jane's never ending questioning of things; one such thing being Wolf's Time. According to local lore, a large, ravenous wolf once roamed the forests surrounding Snow Haven. It was said to have hunted every month when the moon was full, killing people or livestock alike to sake it's blood thirst. For over thirty years, the people of Snow Haven had struck a sort of bargain with the beast, leaving their best animal out at Wolf's Time while every house barred their doors and windows closed, and for thirty years not a single human soul had suffered.
Of course Jane thought the notion ridiculous. Why, the very thought of a wolf wondering around the woods – supposedly as large as a house by some accounts – unnoticed for over thirty years! 'Sheer poppycock,' she thought with an irritated huff as she made her way home from collecting berries near the river that ran through the middle of the forest. She bit her lip nervously, brown eyes taking in how low the sun was getting in the horizon. In fact, the full moon had already begun to make itself visible!
"Sif's going to kill me," she whined worriedly, lifting up her dress so that she could quicken her pace and jump over logs unhindered. There was once a time, Jane recalled, when her sister would have joined in such frivolities as going into the woods for berries, or even trapping small game, but that was years ago before they'd lost their mother. 'Before Sif had to grow up,' she mentally corrected, thinking of how her beautiful, unwed sister practically labored around the house like a wife instead of a daughter. As Jane aged, she'd taken on some of the responsibilities, but Sif was currently entering her twentieth year and few men saw her as fertile anymore.
At least not here. Jane had tried several times to broach the subject of relocating to somewhere more civilized, but their papa would hear nothing of it. His mother lived here. His wife and forefathers were buried here – discussion permanently dismissed. "But don't you want to get away," she'd whispered to her sister once as they'd been making supper. Jane had watched Sif's back stiffen over the cauldron where she'd been adding bay leaves to the stew, her hand stilling momentarily.
"It doesn't work like that," she'd replied sadly. "We go where father goes, stay where he stays until we're wed. Then we submit to our husbands as we once did to our father."
The statement had upset the stubborn and intelligent Jane, to think she'd have to defer to someone so beneath her own intellect. It's not that she thought so highly of herself, mind you, it was merely that even at a young age Jane had understood how different her mind was to everyone else's around her. She'd understood things at eight that most would never, even if they lived to be her grandmother's age of eight and fifty (though few made it passed forty). Jane remembered kneading the bread a tab too aggressively that night.
"There you are," an agitated, yet relieved sigh caught Jane's ears. "Where have you been," her sister asked in an exasperated huff. "No, don't answer that," she said, dark eyes taking in the basket in Jane's hand, "I can see well enough you went into the forest again."
"Is that an accusation or a question," Jane smiled as they both hurried inside and barred the back door behind them.
"A statement," Sif volleyed right back, a slight smile on her lips. "I'd be more upset with you if I didn't know those berries were for my birthday."
"I was hoping to surprise you with a pie in the morning," Jane pouted slightly. "I already prepared the crust dough before you rose this morning, and I was going to bake it after you went to sleep."
"Well," Sif lightly consoled her sister, as she pulled her into a hug of gratitude, "I appreciated the thought and the effort, Jane, really I do. Why don't we go ahead and fix the pie now and we can serve it with supper? And as for a birthday gift, I'd settle for you staying out of those woods. It's not safe, especially on a full moon."
"But sister, the river is located in the middle of the woods," Jane pointed out. "And isn't one of my duties to fetch pails of water? If I'm to stay out of the forest, however will we make stews or do laundry or bathe? You wouldn't have your sister filthy, smelling like the Wilkersons, would you?"
A pearl of heartfelt laughter filled the room, and Sif tried desperately to catch her breath as she thought about the pig farmer's family down the road. "Heaven forbid," she snickered, trying and failing to suppress the sudden giddiness that filled her. "Honestly, Jane, sometimes you're too much. They can't help the way they smell."
"They could bathe more than once a month," Jane admonished with an impish grin. "Though I daresay they probably think we could bathe a mite less."
"Well it is a daily habit for us."
"As is cleaning our home with boiling water and lye," Jane huffed with fake annoyance. "Just as Grandmother has always done, and she's nearing sixty, Sif. Don't you want to live to see sixty?"
"Depends on the company," she quipped, ending the discussion as she finished setting the table while Jane began ladling stew from the cauldron into two wooden bowls.
"The hunting party's not back yet," Jane questioned, noticing Sif hadn't sat a place for their father.
Sif shook her head. "The larger animals have been heading further up the mountain. Papa said they might be gone a few months this time. We'll be alright," she assured her sister. "We have the bakery to run, and a house to keep in order. Besides, Papa taught us well in how to track and trap small game, and rabbits and squirrels are always in good supply here."
Jane nodded as she placed the bowls on the table and forced a small smile for her sister's sake as she sat down to eat. "There's something else we need to discuss, what with father being gone so long," Sif said hesitantly, setting a wooden cup of water in front of each bowl.
"Oh?"
"Before father left, the Odinsons' had approached him about the possibilities of arranging a match between yourself and Thor."
"But you like Thor," Jane blurted out. "I can't pursue anything with someone you love."
"Please, Jane, think of your family," Sif pleased, ignoring Jane's indignant 'I am'. "The Odinsons' are the wealthiest clansmen for miles around. An alliance with them could insure our survival for years to come."
"We've survived so far without them," she humphed. To be honest, Jane knew she could do much worse than Thor Odinson. The man was handsome, strong, and honest, which was more than could be said for some of the men she knew. And it would be a lie if Jane said she hadn't been expected such a proposal. She'd seen the puppy dog stares the man had been sending her way ever since she'd begun to fill out. But to marry before her sister, and to the very man Sif loved! "Don't think me so cruel," she gasped out as pain filled her chest, "to actually considering marrying him!"
"It's not cruel to consider it," her sister replied, pushing her food away untouched. "Thor does not want me, Jane. I've accepted this. Just as you must accept your good fortune that he does indeed want you. Say 'yes', Jane, for your family's sake."
"How long do I have to consider the offer?" Her throat felt as if it were closing up on her and her stomach was suddenly filled with heavy stones of dread.
"He will propose just as soon as he returns with father and the hunting party."
"So, perhaps another month then," she asked, her tension easing when Sif nodded her head. "Sister, I think I'll visit Grandmother tomorrow. Will you be alright here alone?"
"Of course I will," she scoffed off Jane's question. "Just help me at the bakery in the morning, and at lunch I'll send you on your way. I'm sure she'll be glad for the company. I heard some of the townsfolk saying she maybe ill."
Jane bit her lip at the news. Her Grandmother, ill? And she lived all alone in a cabin just inside the forest were few dared to go. "Perhaps I should spend the night with her then, if she's ill," Jane questioned as she readied herself for bed.
The next morning started early for Jane. Guilt consumed her at the thought of leaving her sister to manage all the work for a few days, and so she rose before the sun and quietly started on her chores. So relentless and determined was Jane to somewhat ease Sif's workload, she'd actually managed to clean the whole house. In fact, after boiling water for her bath and pouring it (with many trips with one of the water pails) into the large wooden tub, Jane promptly refilled the cauldron and started on the laundry as she scrubbed away yesterday's filth, long before the first rays of sun graced the earth. Jane had dried and dressed quickly as well, fashioning her long wet hair into a single braid that fell down her back, before starting on breakfast and taking the washed laundry outside to hang dry under the autumn sun's warmth.
With an exhausted sigh, Jane re-entered the home, empty laundry basket in hand, to see Sif pulled their breakfast bread from the brick shelf above the fire place. "Didn't burn it, did I?"
"No," her sister replied sweetly, "it's just right." Sif then placed the bread onto the kitchen table and began opening the windows for the day. "My sister, what time did you wake? It seems you've done a whole weeks' worth of tasks!"
"I don't want my absence to leave you over whelm," Jane admitted sheepishly. "But if Grandmother truly is sick, as those gossips claim, then I must stay with her until she is well."
"Of course you must," Sif agreed quickly. "If only she'd consent to stay with us instead of out there alone, but she's stubborn –"
"Just as we both are," Jane pointed out good-naturedly.
"Indeed," her sister smiled. "Best be on our way to the shop, those sweets aren't going to make themselves. Oh, and Jane, don't forget to bring some fresh bread with you to Grandmother's."
"Of course not," she lightly admonished. "What kind of heathen do you take me for?"
Work was busy yet calming for Jane, as always. Sif was the one that handled customers for the most part, leaving Jane in the kitchen to create to her heart's content. Today, knowing she'd be leaving her sister to work alone the remainder of the day, as well as the next, she doubled the usual quota to insure Sif had the least amount of hassle possible.
"Jane," her sister called to her when the sun rose high in the sky, "it's half day. Why don't you wash the flour off your face and pack some things for Grandmother?"
She did as her sister beckoned, and then made certain there was nothing further she could do. "Honestly," Sif smiled, "I'll be fine – better if I know you're there to care for Grandmother. If you are so insistent on helping me, however-"
"I am," she assured, and Sif handed her a basket of sweet rolls that needed delivering to the Wilkersons' farm. It was along the path way towards the forest anyway, so Jane quickly agreed, giving Sif a hug before slipping on her pale brown cloak to fight against any autumn chill.
Happily she hurried along her way, carefully dodging random mud puddles as she went. Soon she approached the little hut the Wilkersons' called home, but received no answer when she knocked upon the door. Pursing her lips, Jane fought against the urge she felt to reach her Grandmother and her duty to insure the sweet rolls remained safe for the famer's family. If she just left them in front of the door, anything could happen to them and Jane wasn't about to let her family's reputation suffer from her laziness. Thinking that perhaps Mr. Wilkerson or his son, William, might be around back with the livestock, Jane took a deep breath to gather her patience and went around towards the pig barn.
Her feet fumbled reluctantly as a strange sound could be heard the closer she came to the barn. At first she thought perhaps someone was injured, but then her stomach began to feel queasy and her body warm as she pressed on her way. She was just outside of the barn now, the weird grunting noise was clearly hear, as was something that sounded oddly like flesh being smacked.
"W-William, hmm," the district voice of Darcy Lewis said in a strangely breathy way. "More… Oh! More…"
'What on earth…' Jane thought to herself at William Wilkerson's answering groan.
"So damned tight," he heaved out in between labored breaths, and Jane swallowed thickly as she crept along to find a secretive place to spy upon the pair.
It's not that she was particularly nosy, it's just she'd never heard the like and it raised her curiosity something fierce. Finally she'd stumbled along a knot hole in one of the wood planks that made up the barn, and quickly she'd gazed in. Pulling back abruptly from shock, Jane blinked a few times and tried to make sense of what she'd seen. Licking her lips, Jane lowered her head down to gaze through the knot hole once more.
Again she saw blond haired William, naked as the day he was born with an equally as naked Darcy Lewis. Darcy, she noticed was wiggling underneath William, her thighs spread and legs wrapped firmly around his waist as her hands lewdly grabbed and twisted her own breasts. "Don't you want to taste them," she taunted the man who was thrusting steadily inside her sacred region.
William groaned again, but bent over her to suckle on her breast like a new born babe all the same. Darcy's back arched off the ground then, her breasts pressing more firmly against his face and her hips began moving in quicker movements. "I'm gonna… Oh… Oh!"
"I know," he panted out, his hips moving to keep pace with Darcy's.
"Not inside," she moaned out before she screamed out loud and stilled – her body first tense and then seemed to relax. William had stilled as well, but hadn't tensed as Darcy had. As soon as her body had relaxed, he pulled away from her and stood up. Jane's eyes widened as she looked at a male's organ for the first time – and it was so stiff and long!
"Looks like you needn't worry about pregnancy this time, Miss Darcy," William's voice said roughly as his right hand encircled and stroked his erection. "But now there's the problem of where I'm going to plant my seed. Should I cover those breasts of yours and lick it off? Should I penetrate that other tight little hole of yours? No chance of children there, my little harlot."
"Let me taste you," Darcy nearly pleaded as she weakly pushed herself up on to her knees. "I want to feel apart of you run down my throat."
"Damn if you don't have a filthy little mouth. Alright then," William agreed, thrusting his cock teasingly towards Darcy's awaiting mouth, "but no teeth."
Jane's eyes widened as she watched transfixed, as Darcy's hands and mouth brought the man to orgasm. It was only as the man's now flaccid cock was slipping from the woman's lips that she pulled away. Silently, she walked back towards the front of the Wilkersons' house and placed the basket of sweet rolls on an open window's seal and went on her way, desperately ignoring the strange tingling sensations in her neither regions as she walked onward towards her Grandmother's cabin.
Breathing in the fresh air of the forest, Jane tried to forget the sinful act she'd witnessed between William and Darcy – and especially how it had affected her. Would a man ever desire to do such things to her? Did Thor? She shuttered unpleasantly at the thought of his meaty paws gripping her hips as he pounded his organ inside her, using her as a human equivalent of a brood mare. It was this unease that reassured Jane that she was nothing like Darcy Lewis. She could never envision herself rubbing against a man like a cat in heat as the raven haired woman had. It was crass and ungodly, and just so heathen! And yet… some small, unspeakable part of Jane wanted to find a man that would make her want to act the way Darcy had.
"God forgive me," she whispered, but she honestly didn't feel at all repentant for that desire.
A/N: This is for a friend of mine who is obsessed with werewolves. The bases of this fic is from the 2011 Red Riding Hood film, and from varies versions of the fairytale, as well as my own distorted imagination. It will be very short, perhaps four or five chapters at most, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Loki will be joining us next chapter!