-Red-

02

The babble of running water beckoned, blending with her dreams and gently coaxing her awake. Bulma groaned, stubbornly fighting consciousness by burying her face into warm fur and drowning in its comforting musky smell. But the more she tried to fight it, the more her dreams eluded her, chased away by the sound of splashing water. With a long sigh of resignation, Bulma cracked open her eyes. She was lying alone on a river bank, snuggled up to a fur cowl while forest leaves danced playfully overhead. The forest? Right. Memories filtered back: the path, the red mushrooms, getting lost and feeling sick… and a strange man-creature, Vegeta. Or had she hallucinated it all?

She got her answer soon enough when another splash of water caught her attention. Crouched further down the river was her unusual rescuer, sloshing water over his face and torso. Not a figment of her imagination then. He was real. Handsome too, regal even, with high cheek bones and a sharp nose made for looking down on others. Befitting of a prince, although why a prince would be living out here in the woods, dirty and alone, Bulma couldn't fathom.

He rinsed himself off in the river, sitting naked from the waist up, his tattered black shirt laying on a nearby rock. Bulma had seen strong men before — Yamcha, a young man from town, used to cut wood for her family. Thunk, thunk, the axe would swing down mightily, rending logs in two. Perched stealthily by her window, Bulma watched, hoping the day would grow warm enough for the boy to remove his shirt. But that memory now paled next to the display before her. Not only did Vegeta's physique outstrip Yamcha's but also the illustrations in her father's anatomy books. She had traced those diagrams a thousand times with her fingertips as she dedicated the names of muscles to memory. She found herself doing the same now, tracing Vegeta with her eyes from trapezius to abdominal obliques. He ducked down to scoop up water, neck and back stretching, thick arms bunching. His biceps were bigger than her thighs! Muscles shifted, rippling under his scarred skin as he bathed. There were a lot of scars. Vegeta was moulded from a hard life, not an inch of softness about him. Bulma couldn't look away, awe-struck.

Water ran over his sun-kissed skin and fell to the forest floor below, droplets catching in the light like melting diamonds. After thoroughly dousing himself, Vegeta got on all fours and shook the water off like a dog. It left his hair standing up in unruly tufts, even his tail puffed up. Bulma stifled a laugh.

When he reached for his shirt, she caught sight of a broad chest and hard abdominals, the likes of which shamed her mother's washboard. The view lasted only a moment before he pulled on his shirt and looked up in her direction.

Bulma clamped her eyes shut. Crap. Had he seen her staring? How mortifying! Trying to calm her breathing, Bulma feigned sleep. The soft — almost silent — pad of his feet on the earth told her of his approach, as did the growing smell of wet fur. Thump! His tail struck the ground right in front of her, nearly making her flinch. She waited but nothing happened. What was he doing? The seconds dragged by one after the other, stretching her nerves thinner with each passing moment as she waited to see what he intended to do.

Never would she guess that he would pet her. Coarse fingers touched her brow and gently brushed back her bangs, tucking them behind the shell of her ear. His touch was so light, reverent, barely ghosting her skin and leaving her with a strange yearning for more. She curled her fingers tighter in the fur pillow.

He pressed his palm to her forehead and rested it there for a moment. Testing her temperature, she realized. Was he concerned about her? How long had she been asleep? Before she could puzzle it all out, Vegeta's hand fell away.

"When you're done pretending to sleep, you should drink some water."

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Bulma opened her eyes and found Vegeta staring at her sternly. Squirming under his gaze, she felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie-jar. Go figure that his senses were more acute than that of a human's. Bulma tried to sit up, but pain lanced up her right hand.

"Ouch!"

"Careful," he reprimanded harshly. He lifted her into a sitting position, his strength sobering. If he wished it, he could overpower her in an instant. Her blood pressure spiked at the thought. "Try not to use it, or the wound will re-open."

Bulma looked down at her right hand. It was bandaged in leaves, neatly tied by a braid of grass. It would have taken time and patience to make. He had done this for her? Why? It would have been so easy for him to abandon her. Instead, he had taken care of her.

Bulma ran her fingers lightly over his handiwork. "Thank you."

His face twisted up. "Think nothing of it," he grumbled, looking away. "Blood attracts others. That is all."

If that was true, why wouldn't he leave her to protect himself? He might not want to admit it but for some reason, Vegeta cared.

"Well, thank you all the same."

His tail flicked back and forth, his eyes slipping to the side to regard her surreptitiously. "Drink," he reminded her, his tone firm, putting an end to her gratitudes.

Right — water! She was parched. Careful of her injured hand, Bulma slid to the river's edge and scooped up fresh water. It tasted so wonderfully crisp and clean. Revitalizing. Her body came alive with every mouthful. Gosh, she had been really dehydrated. She drank until her belly was full, then splashed her cheeks and neck to freshen up. When she glancing up, she caught Vegeta watching her.

Their eyes met, and his face hardened. He looked away, tail thumping the ground in agitation.

"Can you walk?" he asked gruffly.

Good question. He had needed to carry her before, but standing up now Bulma found that her dizziness had — thankfully — gone. "Yes, I think so."

"Then we move."

He retrieved his fur cowl that he had given to her as a pillow and slipped it back on. Picking up her basket he headed off, not waiting to see if she followed.

She did.

It wasn't hard to catch up; he kept his pace easy for her benefit, allowing her the chance to enjoy the peace of the forest. Birds called, the wind rustled sweetly through the leaves, and the babbling of the river followed at their backs. Beautiful. Was this the same forest she had been afraid of earlier? It was hard to reconcile the two together.

However, trees were only interesting for so long. Bulma's eyes wondered again and again to her taciturn companion. He wasn't much taller than she was, but his presence and powerful build were as imposing as a giant. Her eyes lingered on the bare skin at the nape of his neck and his upper arms, admiring every ridge and scar. The play of his muscles moving under his clothes was mesmerizing.

"Stop dawdling," Vegeta snapped at her, giving her a side-eyed glare over his shoulder.

Blushing, Bulma picked up the pace, hoping he hadn't caught her staring yet again. But Vegeta was too preoccupied with their surroundings than where her eyes had been. His own were narrowed, scanning the woods, ears perked for any unwelcome sounds.

His wariness infected her, a seed of unease growing in her belly. "Are we safe here?" she asked, keeping her voice low just to be sure. Twice now he had warned about 'others'.

He huffed. "Safety is an illusion."

Well, that wasn't reassuring. She chewed over his response, the little seed taking root and growing into full-blown concern. Bulma liked to think she was brave. At the edge of her town was a dilapidated farmhouse. It was famous for being 'haunted', and the children would go there to dare each other to enter. When she was eight, Bulma had entered when the other boys were too chicken to do so. The house stank of mildew, and was so dark that Bulma couldn't see her hands in front of her face. It was terrifying, but she had done it. Never mind that she got turned around and couldn't find the exit out, or that at the first scary sound she had fled into the nearest corner and burst into tears. The boys outside eventually concluded that she had been eaten by a ghost, and ran to fetch her father.

She was told she had been in there for only an hour (a new record, thank you very much), but it had felt much longer. Bulma was a mess by the time her father arrived. Yet all it took was for him to wrap his fingers around her hand and offer her his kind, no-nonsense smile from under his bushy mustache, and Bulma felt all her fears melt away. It was after that incident that he taught her about fear being only a symptom of ignorance. He took her back to the farmstead in the light of day to see just how unimpressive it really was.

But her father wasn't here now. Vegeta was. Moving closer to him, Bulma slipped her hand into his.

His eyes widened, glancing at her in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Can I?" She asked.

He looked comically startled. "Why?"

"I feel safer like this."

"Safer?" he nearly choked on the word. With me was implied, and Bulma guessed his conundrum. He thought she was scared of him.

Yes, Vegeta was intimidating and gruff, but her father had taught her to see things as they were, not as they appeared to be. Vegeta was strong, knowledgable of the forest, and most importantly, had taken care of her.

"Yes, safer."

A slow blush crept up his neck. Despite his discomfort, he allowed his fingers to close around her hand, careful to keep his claws out of the way. "Stupid girl," he grumbled under his breath.

Bulma smiled, charmed by his embarrassment. The knot in her belly eased.

They continued walking hand in hand, their silence comfortable. But Bulma couldn't stay quiet for long.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"As long as I can remember."

"Isn't it lonely?"

"The forest is filled with wildlife."

"I meant, don't you have any friends?"

He cast her an agitated look. "Do you always ask so many questions?"

"Yes." She grinned.

"Tch." After a short pause, he surprised her by asking, "And what of you? Do you have… friends?"

"Oh, yes! There's Goku and Krillin. They're younger than me but we adventure together. They live far away though. I don't get to see them as often as I would like…" She trailed off, lapsing into silence. Thinking of her friends — the place she was supposed to be — made her realize she had no idea where Vegeta was leading her. "Hey, where are we going?"

"To the old man's den, obviously."

Old man? Was he an elder of Vegeta's species? "Is he like you? An Úlfhéðnar?"

"Idiot. Your old man."

Her old man? Wait, was he talking about Roshi? Bulma stopped in her tracks. It took Vegeta a second before the tug on their hands stopped him. He turned to see what the hold-up was.

"What is it?"

"My old man?" Bulma repeated. "The one who lives by Turtle Lake?"

"Yes," Vegeta replied, looking impatient. "He cares for the pup and the bald one. That is where you were headed, isn't it?"

Bulma let his hand go, looking at Vegeta suspiciously. "I never told you that."

He went rigid, his ears twitching nervously. "…Yes, you did," he replied after a hesitation, crossing his arms over his chest and looking off to the side. "You mumbled it in your sleep."

Wow, what a terrible liar. Bulma put a hand on her hip. "Oh really?" she drawled, not buying it.

"What does it matter?" he snapped. "I'm taking you where you need to go."

She eyeballed him closely: the stiffness of his shoulders and jaw, the way his Adam's apple bobbed, the uneasy flick of his tail. He had been caught and they both knew it.

How did he know about her friends? If Goku and Krillin were familiar with a beast-man, they would have told her. One time the boys caught a horned beetle, and they still talked about that years later. So if Vegeta wasn't acquainted with them, that meant there was only one other explanation.

Bulma took two purposeful steps towards Vegeta. His ears flattened at her proximity, his tail curling meekly between his legs. She poked him in the chest with a firm index finger.

"You know what I think? I think you've been watching me."

A red stain crept over his face. "…I watch many things. The alpha protects his territory."

"Is that so? Is the path part of your territory?" she quizzed. He didn't respond, but the growing blush that reached his ears was answer enough. She smiled triumphantly. "Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You have been spying on me! For how long?" It was more baffling than upsetting. Why had he never said hello? How many times had he watched her walk the path?

Vegeta refused to be interrogated further. Turning sharply, he walked off, his fingers grinding on her basket's handle.

Bulma hurried after him, smirking with vindication. "I suppose it's understandable," she mused aloud for his benefit. "You watching me, that is. I mean, it's not every day you see a pretty girl walking down the path, huh?"

No response. He was still blushing, his jaw working in embarrassment. Poor guy. Social interactions weren't his forte. Which probably explained why he had never introduced himself. Or — more likely — because she would have run screaming at the sight of a beast-like stranger approaching her from the woods… Oh, no wonder he had kept to himself. Still, she knew better now. Vegeta meant her no harm.

Pushing her fingers back between his, she took pity on teasing him. "If you must know, it's not every day I see a handsome prince either."

He shot her a withering look, unsure if she was still poking fun at his expense. She smiled warmly to reassure him.

"Tch, idiot girl," he grumbled, still blushing hard.

"Mm."

They walked onwards, Bulma peppering the silence with questions: How far until they got there? As long as it took. How did he get his scars? Surviving. Could she touch his ears? Absolutely not. What did he do for shelter? Whatever was available. What did he eat? Annoying little girls who asked too many questions.

"What do annoying little girls taste like?" she asked playfully.

"Like sunshine and strawberries."

His answer surprised her. Looking up, she found him smirking, watching her from the corner of his eyes. It made her heart trip over itself before remembering to beat again.

Was he teasing, or being serious? He had tasted her blood.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really. So don't tempt me," he warned, his eyes dancing with what she hoped was amusement and not hunger. He pulled her closer, leaning in to whisper hotly in her ear. "Or I might gobble you up."

Ducking her face to hide her blush under her hood, Bulma remained unusually quiet as they continued on their way. Which — come to think of it — was probably Vegeta's plan all along.

The smug jerk.


-xoXox-


AN: Thanks to Stupidoomdoodles for helping me tidy up the draft ^_^

Just to clarify, this story is NOT based on RedViolett's Red Riding Hood comic. Her comic and my story are unaffiliated (but you should totally check her comic out because it's super creative and I can't wait to see more of it!). This story was inspired by the illustration she drew for the Vegebulzine, Under Every Moon, which depicted a Red Riding Hood AU.