Title: Red and the wolf
Series: Twisted fairy tales
Author's note: This is also featured on Tumblr and my AO3 account.
...
Her red hair flows around her like a cloak, tumbling over her shoulders and down to her waist. As a child, her mother calls her Little Red Riding Hood, and the name sticks. Little Red Riding Hood hates her name, so she shortens it to Red. Those that call her anything other than Red receive hostile glares which are supposedly cute when she's young, but terrifying when she's older.
Once she's old enough to walk in the forest alone, Red spends most of her time at her Grandmother's home. It is to the mixed concern and relief of her parents who realised too late they didn't want to be parents. While they don't exactly like her Grandmother, they don't want to spend their time with a child either, and babysitting duties suit all parties concerned. Grandmother has a captive audience in Red and teaches her all she knows, and Red's parents get to spend their days (and sometimes nights) doing exactly as they please.
Red's Grandmother is called strange by everyone in the village, but to be fair, if the other villages knew of her, they would probably call her strange as well. The villagers talk about how an elderly woman shouldn't live alone, far from the safety of other people, and especially not alone in an enchanted forest! Stubbornness shouldn't overcome common sense. Red's Grandmother scoffs at their concerns: she's lived in the forest since before they were even born! No one believes her, of course, but no one can remember a time when the old woman wasn't living in the forest. (The villagers think that her Grandmother taught Red how to glare the Evil Eye. In this, they're probably right.)
Red grows older, her hair grows longer, and no one dares call her Little Red Riding Hood anymore. On her eighteenth birthday she decides to visit her Grandmother. She collects flowers and herbs for her grandmother as she brings her favourite breads and sweet cakes from the bakery so they can celebrate. After gathering these plants with her Grandmother by her side for so many years, Red easily recognises them on her own now. She picks small bundles, ties them off with a few strands of her long red hair, and continues along the forest path, humming contently. The forest has golden strands of sunshine that filter through the green canopy overhead, and the forest looks as enchanted as it ever has before.
Red hears a howl ahead, but she continues along the path without a worry. She knows that the forest animals won't hurt her; her Grandmother has promised that the animals will obey and never harm her while she is on the path. A wolf appears up ahead, smiling at her wolfishly, as wolves are wont to do.
The wolf claims to have the best nose in the forest. There are better flowers just off the path. Wouldn't she like to see them?
Red isn't surprised that the wolf can talk; it is an enchanted forest after all. From her trips with her Grandmother, Red knows the forest like the back of her hand. There are no flowers that way, so the wolf must have a trap waiting. Red shakes her head and continues on. The wolf waits a moment before following after her.
The flowers really are prettier, brighter, with a more intoxicating scent. Won't she come have a look? Surely her Grandmother would like the pretty flowers, instead of the wilting and dry ones in her basket?
Red shakes her head and continues on. The wolf contemplates what to do next. Red will not leave the path, but perhaps the wolf can delay her journey to her Grandmother's house instead? When it is dark, she will have no choice but to stop or hurry along the path. Who knows what Red might trip over in the dark?
Won't you stop to eat, and perhaps share your food with a poor, hungry wolf?
The third time's the charm, it seems, because Red smiles and stops. The wolf is surprised, not really believing she would listen, but the wolf will not complain if it means being able to eat.
Red sits on the path in the middle of the forest, sets her basket down in front of her. She brings out her flowers and herbs, each bundled tightly with thick strands of red hair, then the sweet cakes and breads.
If Red is wishing to picnic, the wolf can show her a wonderful clearing filled with beautiful flowers and a little bubbling stream! Perfect picnicking place, really. Not even that far off the path!
Red doesn't answer the wolf. Instead she reaches into her basket and lifts out a false bottom. The wolf's eyes widen. There is no scent to show there is more inside the basket, and the wolf has the best nose in the forest!
Red beckons the wolf close. She is on the path and the wolf must obey her, as all animals must. The wolf resists, but eventually crawls forward on its belly. Red hums a song as she plucks three strands of the wolf's thick fur. From her basket she takes a spool of black thread, bites off a length with her teeth, then binds the hairs together tightly, tying it off. Red holds the small bundle up and looks to the wolf.
You know what this will do to your mind, don't you, wolf?
The wolf knows, and whines in distress.
If I keep this in my pocket for three days, and then throw it in a stream of running water, you will lose your mind.
The wolf gives a pitiful howl. The forest is silent and the wolf's howl is not answered.
Now, wolf, you will come with me to Grandmother's house and help me. You say you have the best nose in the forest, so now is your time to prove it.
Red packs her basket again, methodical and precise, then tucks the wolf's fur into her pocket.
The old witch has her final lock of hair hidden somewhere in her house, and without that, I can't kill her and take her place as Grandmother of the forest. When it is done, I will set you free.
The wolf follows her.
Days later, the villagers do not remember Red or her Grandmother. But there is a strange woman that lives in the forest with thick red hair, a lock of it missing from her head. Everyone is certain that she has always lived in the enchanted forest, with her pet wolf by her side. There has never been a time the forest has not had a witch to protect it, whether Maiden, Mother, or Crone.
One day, when Red's hair is no longer red, a little girl will call her Grandmother, and the name will stick. Red knows that she will follow her own Grandmother's fate at the hands of the little girl in a blue cloak, and she hides her last lock of hair so well that not even her wolf can find it. Without all of her hair, Red cannot die. She knows that her granddaughter will find it one day, but until then, Red will teach Blue everything she knows.
...
The end.
Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!