Foxes Note: Hi there! Firstly thanks for stopping by and checking out the story. The first chapters or so are going to be a bit slow as I get the general story and setting laid out but will quickly pick up from there! For the record this is completely AU loosely based around the fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood. The story will not be following along anything canon from the Teen Wolf series. There will be some myth along with some back stories for certain characters derived from the show but other than that it's an entirely original story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Teen Wolf. Everything including the characters belong to it's creators lalala ON TO THE STORY.


Chapter One: Ghost Steps

The first few days proved to be the hardest. Lydia never left the tiny one bedroomed cottage and spoke a total of seven words to her grandmother. 'Hello. I'm fine. I miss them too.' She sat on her makeshift bed just by the window staring off into the surrounding woods. She never fully came to realize, but some little shred of hope in the back of her mind wondered that if she stared long enough, maybe her parents would appear just beyond the trees. It was childish and stupid but she just couldn't help herself.

After a full week had passed she began to pick up the many books her grandmother had collected over the years. Lydia used to stay with her for a month in the summer season when she was much younger. Even when Lydia stopped coming for those summer visits, the fables and novels, scattered about, still remained. Ready to be picked up right where she left off ages ago. At first it was difficult. Trying to read those magical stories and pretend that everything around her was okay. But after awhile it became easier, and she found herself lost in the different worlds once again.

Another week gone and she was slowly getting back to her old self. Moving about the house, cleaning, organizing. Taking walks around the clearing that surrounded her grandmothers home. She gathered wood for fire and looked for fruits or berries to collect. However it wasn't long before they were running low on actual food and supplies needed to take care of themselves. Her grandmother lived in the forest that enveloped the small village of Beacon Hills. It wasn't too long of a journey to the village, an hour or two tops. Shorter if you knew your way around the woods like she did.

When her grandmother first made a comment about needing to go into town Lydia didn't say a word. The thought of being around all those people. After everything. They all knew who she was. Sylvia Martin's granddaughter. The one who came around years ago but stopped showing up. The Orphan. Yet Lydia had hardly a clue who any of them were. When she went through the town for the first time in years, after the death of her parents, she recognized a few faces here and there. Even managed to recall a few names. But they were strangers.

Sylvia was smart though. In a different way than Lydia herself was. She was charming, quick with words and knew just what to say to turn your opinions around. And before she realized it Lydia was agreeing to go with her down into the village. Her heart raced at the thought. Stomach twisting in knots at the thought of being in the large crowds. Beacon Hills was one of the only villages with an active bartering market for miles. It tended to draw a number of people which was exactly what she was hoping to of sweat beaded on her forward, hands wringing together nervously.

"Lydia? Lydia are you listening?"

"Sorry?" Lydia snapped her head around to her grandmother, who only gave a light sigh in response - still the smile stayed on her face.

"I said to take this." Her grandmother repeated, holding out her father's red cloak. Lydia reached a hand out, running her fingers across the familiar fabric. It was rough, a bit coarse, but hinted that it once was beautiful and soft. The edges now were torn and frayed among the bottom where it dragged across the ground. After all this time the hooded cloak still held together, if only by the threads. "This way it'll be impossible for me to lose you among the crowds." Sylvia laughed but quickly added, "not that I'm expecting I would," noting her granddaughter's raised brows.

The redhead managed a terse laugh before gently taking the cloak from her hands. She wrapped it around herself and closed her eyes. It still smelled like her father. Like the dirt of the forest floor mixed with the mint leaves he always carried with him. The cloak was heavy but hung easily around her, hugging at her shoulders. Lydia couldn't help but notice a certain warmth that encased her, soft like the glow of a small fire. She smiled. A genuine smile.

After gathering jars of herbs and spices from her grandmothers cellar, the two set off. It was strange being back in the woods, that feeling of deja vu soon setting in. It wasn't long before she quickly picked up the old trails. Certain trees, fallen logs across the ground, even the way the branches criss crossed into the sky, creating a patchy canopy. It was a home all her own.

"You look happy." Sylvia commented, turning around to glance over at Lydia. Her smile only grew in response.

"I guess it's just nice being back here." The girl replied quietly after a moment had passed. "It's familiar." She picked at a leaf hanging just above and let it fall to the ground. After all that had happened she would have assumed the forest would be the last place she found comfort. But in a way the large, quiet trees around them made her hold her head high. If they could stand tall despite storms, fires, and years of abuse by mankind running through, then so could she.

The trip back into the village was a lot shorter than she remembered. The town of Beacon Hills ,however, remained unchanged. Lydia hadn't been back since she was just a small girl. Only around six or seven. Almost ten years. She couldn't recall exactly why she stopped staying with her grandmother. At one point in her life she was there every summer and suddenly she never went back. Maybe a few times -for holidays or other special occasions - but never for long.

However, the moment Lydia stepped through the last line of trees and into the edge of the village it all came back. Those endless summer days spent running through the forest. Back and forth from her grandmother's cottage to the town. Playing and making friends with some of the local children. She retained a few of the faces in her mind. Though by now they were as grown as she was. The girl highly doubted she'd recognize them and vice versa.

"Well come along then." Sylvia said as the two set off down the path leading into the marketplace. The closer they got to the swarm of people the tighter Lydia's chest began to feel. A certain rush of anxiety crept through her skin but she fought to hold it back and kept her chin raised. They stopped to say hello to many of the villagers, Lydia reintroducing herself to people she'd long forgotten. She had to take the sorry, sympathetic smiles they gave her and return a gracious but, sad nod. They asked her how she was, talked about seeing her and her parents around ages ago and commented on "oh my, look how big you've gotten." It was exhausting.

After a while of going through the separate stands, trading off what they had for new goods of their own Sylvia finally stopped. "Lydia be a dear," she began nodding towards a girl selling baskets of flowers, "and go pick some out for me." After losing count of how many people she had to stop and talk to, Lydia was more than happy to escape the main crowds for a bit. She nodded, flashing a grateful smile at her grandmother before pushing her way through the masses.

The girl selling the flowers looked bored beyond belief. Lydia glanced at her for a moment, noticing that she looked somewhat familiar. Raggedy blonde hair, deep brown eyes and a soft, round face. The name however, like many others, was lost. The blonde didn't pay her any mind though. She just stared down at her hands, picking at the beds of her nails.

"Lydia?" A voice spoke up from behind.

Lydia turned around, eyes squinted slightly from the sun. "It's...Isaac. Right?