[Authoress's Notes: The premise runs off of something a 10K writer said in an interview -- that the 2nd Kingdom is in the middle of a civil war, divided between north and south, and also overrun with Wolves. Schoolgirls in red cloaks are trained to act as messengers and traverse the dangerous forests. Add to this my notion of there being different kinds of Wolves, organised into different tribes. Some are more dangerous to humans than others. Not that the humans know anything about this. So! This is just a little ficlet of me starting in on this concept.
[Katell, incidentally, is a traditional Breton name, which I thought appropriate, seeing as the bulk of the 2nd Kingdom is made up of Bretagne and Normandy.

She had to be near the coast by now. There was a Grandmother, in a cottage outside of Lorient. If she could just get there before dark... because she didn't particularly want to think about what would happen to her if she couldn't. Night crept in behind her, chasing her to the sea, and she felt -- she thought she felt -- she really hoped she didn't feel eyes watching her.

The woods of the Second Kingdom had never been precisely safe, and were considerably less so if you happened to be traveling in a long red cloak.

It had been an effective ruse when it started. Pretty little girls in pretty little hoods, carrying pretty little baskets. No one suspected them, at first.

'But now,' Katell thought, 'everyone bloody knows who we are and what we're up to. Real little girls wear any colour but red... not that many of them are dim enough to travel alone these days...'

She sighed, batting a tree branch out of her way, and glared indignantly at the sunset, bleeding through the break in the canopy, as though the pale yellow orb progressed through the sky on schedule simply to irritate her. 'I am, of course, proud to do service to my Kingdom... but honestly, I'm not sure we should've picked tradition over a more camoflauge-able hue...'

The ground beneath her feet grew progressively rockier, the trees hardier. She had to be getting close now.

"Hello, little girl."

Katell stopped dead in her tracks, her head snapping to the left.

There was no mistaking him: a Wolf, tall and lean, taut-muscled and no doubt agile, gold flecks shining from the dark of his eyes like the last rays of the fleeing sun.

"Nowwhat," he asked, stepping out from the trees, "is a delicate little thing like you doing wandering about the woods, with night so near?"

"Stay where you are!" Katell barked, her right hand slipping inside her basket.

He held his hands up, but kept walking. "I am alone and unarmed."

"Yes, well, I'm not." Katell whipped a dagger out from her basket. It was small, but she was lethal with it. "Stand down, beast, or I swear in the memory of Her Supreme Glory Riding Hood the First, I will gut you and leave your entrails for the ravens."

"Frightfully unnecessary," the Wolf said, grinning at her. Katell put a great deal of effort into not shuddering at the gleaming, pointed fangs. "I assure you, whatever it is you're fearing, I am not that kind of Wolf."

"Every Wolf is that kind of Wolf," Katell spat.

"Ignorance is an unbecoming trait, little one. A more thorough education might have kept you from treading such dangerous ground. You're on disputed territory."

Her eyes narrowed. "Of course I am. The entire region is--"

"You don't really think it matters if Riding Hood or Greta holds sway here, do you?" the Wolf broke in. "The land from Lorient to Hennebont is claimed by Blood Wolves and Dire Wolves alike. You should be grateful it was not one of the latter who found you."

"I am unafraid."

"Of that I have no doubt. Fear is a sensible emotion, and anyone on the path to Lorient armed with nothing more than that little pin cannot be in possession of a great deal of rationality."

Katell felt her cheeks flush, much to her annoyance. "I will not stand here and be baited by you, beast. Retreat or be killed."

A low, rumbling laughter reached her ears, but what followed it happened too quickly for her to react. In two loping strides, he reached her; with one swift motion, locked her right arm behind her back. He bent her back, roughly, just to the point of pain, her slender throat exposed and vulnerable; but before she could even think to scream -- and who could have helped her if she had? -- his mouth pressed to hers in a hot kiss, possessive, devouring, dizzying. Utterly bewildered, Katell remained limp in his arms when he moved his mouth to her ear, and whispered, "You will reach the Grandmother's safely. A Blood Wolf's word."

Then he released her, so suddenly that she fell to the rocky earth in a puddle of crimson cloth.

Recovering, Katell cast about, her eyes searching every shadow, but he was gone. Out of sight, but not, Katell assumed with a shiver, by much.

More frightened than she cared to admit, Katell pushed to her feet, and ran the full mile to the Grandmother's without pause.