It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

A flowing, silken cloak, colored a shade of the deepest red. Like rubies.

Or blood.

The fabric shimmered and shone in the sunlight like it was giving off a morbid light of its own, looking all the while like a solid form of blood, a dangerous and dark hue. It was an enchanting piece. The one to wear such a garment would be enveloped in its rich color, folded across like poised dragon wings.

She would wear it, and she would have her revenge.

The girl had set her sights on a man in the village. A woodsman, older and strong.

He refused her interest. She was too young, too bright, too wild for his taste. He wanted a wife that he could depend on. A wife that would wash the dishes, who wouldn't run into the forest to talk to wolves.

He rejected her.

In the forest, the Wolf was watching. And the girl knew she needed someone darker, someone dangerous, to fit with whom she'd become.

A sidelong glance, a hint of a smirk, and she was hers. She thought it was all her idea. and she let her think it. Let her believe she was in control.

She knew – believed – in the illusion.

Little girls should never play games with wolves, he thought.

But the Wolf didn't know little girls have sharper things than teeth.

Will you promise not to hurt me? she whispers.

Wolves don't make promises, she replies. Their eyes lock. Red on red.

It all started with the cloak. But the infatuation began when the girl, that familiarly named Red Riding Hood, spread the shroud of that name upon the ground in the forest.

And the Wolf joined her.

She watched.

From the shadowed trees, she allowed her amber eyes to peruse the child, sitting alone on her cloak. She watched her even whiter teeth bite into the apple, a shade akin to her garments. The crimson skin split in her mouth, revealing the pure white interior.

It fascinated her.

She led her on. When she deemed the moment right, she joined her on that scarlet cloak. Giving the girl her most innocent toothy grin.

Her responding smile was more sly than innocent. Wide, doe-like eyes, arched eyebrows, sharp white teeth.

She never stood a chance. When she spoke, she was entranced. Enchanted. Captivated.

She pretended to be afraid. Pretended to be small and scared and naive, because that was what she wanted. But behind her smile was everything she could never understand.

The Wolf listened. Because that was what she wanted.

She encouraged. Because she wanted that, too.

She observed, quietly and methodically, her creamy throat, her narrow shoulders, her delicate, slanting collarbones; and nuzzled her just below the jaw, because that was what she wanted.

She didn't rebuff her.

That night, the girl returned to her village. The huntsman who had jilted her: dead, with one cut. The silver knife flashed, and Red smiled a sharp-toothed smile. She smeared his life upon her red cloak. After all, what's already the color of blood can't be stained with it.

A soft voice spoke to her from out of the shadows. Oh, my little girl in her little red hood. How far you have fallen. And she turned, and met the amber eyes, and she became the beast.

And so into the woods went Red and her Wolf. Perfectly matched, because one can never really tame either wolves, or little girls.

"Shizuru... did you really think that we can do this for the school play?"

"Well, it is my greatest work yet."

"You really should- what's with the ears?"

"They are yours, for the play~!"

"...aw nuts."