Author's Note: I've always wanted to rewrite a classic fairy tale to give it more depth. So I picked Little Red Riding Hood because there's too many Cinderella and Snow White and Beauty and the Beast retellings already.
Scarlet
By: RaspberryGirl
"Peter!" A girl darted up the hillside, scattering a herd of grazing sheep. The wind tugged at her skirt and ruffled her bright chestnut hair. "Peter," she called again. The girl danced up to the young man sitting under the shade of a young sapling. Her green eyes sparkled.
The young man stared at the girl in surprise. "Scarlet! What are you doing here?"
The girl smiled mischievously and settled down next to Peter. "I came to help you."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Meaning you slipped away from your house—and your chores—once again. Martha will be angry."
Scarlet scowled. "I thought you said tending the sheep by yourself was lonely."
"It is."
"But," Scarlet teased, "I'm not the company you wanted." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You want...you want"—the name slipped from her mouth before the girl could stop herself—"Rosalind."
Peter flushed and turned away. "Don't jest."
Vexed with his ill humor, Scarlet said nothing more and gazed into the distance. A gentle breeze stirred the grass, creating a green ripple like a wave in the ocean. The yellow daffodils that grew near the bottom of the hill stirred, and the sheep bleated softly as they wandered. The air was heavy with moisture, and the sky was becoming gray and overcast.
A drop of rain landed on Scarlet's cheek.
"I think we should head back," Peter murmured. He stood, staring up into the sky. "It could start pouring any moment now."
As if in agreement, lightening flashed and more raindrops fell.
Peter began rounding up his sheep. Scarlet was about to help when something caught her eye. A large caravan was hurriedly making its way towards the town. A lavishly dressed figure on a white horse rode at the front of the convoy, flanked by two guards. Following this rider were two attendants and a procession of three, heavily laden wagons covered in burlap cloth. Six more guards escorted the caravan.
"Scarlet!" A woman with long, tangled hair emerged from the direction of the woods like a specter. The woman's face was smudged with dirt, and the edge of her skirt was ripped and soaked as if she'd dragged it through mud. A wreath of wild roses adorned her brown curls. She caught sight of Scarlet, and her expression twisted into a wide-eyed look of surprise. "Elise!" the woman cried. "What are you doing here, dearest? I thought you were at home. Where's Scarlet? Have you seen her?"
"Mother," the girl said, exasperated. "I'm Scarlet."
The woman's brow furrowed in confusion. She wrought her hands, fidgeting and muttering to herself. Then, "Yes, that's right. How silly of me. Of course you're Scarlet." She took her daughter's face in both hands, staring into the green eyes quizzically, as if Scarlet were some puzzle she had never been able to solve. Then, abruptly, Scarlet's mother turned her attention to the young shepherd.
"Peter!" the woman cried. She beamed.
"Josephine." Peter returned her smile courteously. "It's good to see you."
"Yes," said Josephine. She began twirling happily as a light drizzle started.
"Mother." Scarlet caught Josephine by the hands, forcing her to stop. "We have to hasten home. It's raining."
Josephine frowned, trying to twist away. "But I like the rain," she protested. "If you want to catch a glimpse of the Fair Folk, you must search for their ring of white mushrooms when it rains."
"How nice." Scarlet tugged at Josephine as she and Peter began making their way hastily towards St. Jordan. The sheep bleated in protest as they were herded down the hill. "Come, Mother."
Josephine obeyed, humming an old ballad about the Fair Folk's court. "One day," she murmured to herself, "I'll meet the Queen of the Fairies and she'll grant my heart's desire."
The trio reached Peter's home, a solitary house on the outer edge of St. Jordan. Josephine broke away, keeping ahead of Scarlet and Peter. For a moment, Peter watched Josephine with an amused expression, then turned to Scarlet. "Well, take care," he said.
"Yes. Thank you. I will." Scarlet suddenly felt awkward. She chose her next words carefully. "Peter, you should c-come tonight. For dinner, that is. Which is t-tonight. I mean..." Scarlet stopped, feeling like an idiot. "What I meant to say is that Father is going away on business tomorrow. And Martha always makes a big meal before he leaves s-so I was thinking...since there's going to be so many dishes...that you...you..."
Peter smiled. "Of course I'll come."
Scarlet was delighted. "Really?"
"Really."
"When the red leaves slowly drift away, when the Fairy Queen comes riding..." sang Josephine, further down the road.
Mumbling a flustered "farewell," Scarlet hurried after Josephine. The rose-wreathed woman snickered as her daughter caught up with her. "You're blushing," Josephine said pointedly.
"No, I'm not," Scarlet retorted, beginning to flush even more.
"Yes, you are," Josephine insisted, walking backwards so she faced her daughter. She rubbed her chin and stared up at the sky with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Dear me, Peter would make a fine husband."
"No one said anything about husbands!" Scarlet said defensively. She began walking faster.
Josephine didn't seem to hear. "The Fairy Queen had many lovers," she piped. "They say she's so beautiful that the sun burned with envy, and the moon turned pale with jealousy. Scarlet, did you know—" Josephine stopped mid-sentence just as they reached their house. She stared down St. Jordan's main road.
Scarlet followed her mother's gaze. Just coming into town was the caravan she'd seen earlier.
"Ooh," cooed Josephine, clapping her hands together. "Look over there! It's the Fairy Prince come to visit St. Jordan!"
Scarlet made frantic motions for her mother to hush, but it was too late. The sound of Josephine's voice had already reached the ears of the caravan's foremost guards. Catching sight of the two women, they started towards them.
"Look! Look!" Josephine was practically jumping up and down with excitement. "They're coming this way!" She pranced behind her daughter, trying to hide behind the girl. "Oh! Don't let them see me like this! Not the Fairy Prince! Don't let him see me!" Josephine cowered behind Scarlet, trying to fix the roses in her hair, but only succeeded in making her sodden locks more disheveled.
"You!" The caravan had reached them.
"Yes?" Rainwater dripping down her face, Scarlet faced the strangers. She tried to look pleasant. "May I help you?"
The guard eyed Scarlet with contempt. "Is this the town of St. Jordan?"
"Yes," said Scarlet. She added, just for politeness' sake, "Sir."
The guard grunted. His eyes fixed on Scarlet's mother. Josephine squealed and crouched on the ground. She buried her face in her knees and put her hands over her head, rocking back and forth.
The guard's expression turned into an apprehensive grimace; his companion muttered something under his breath. Nevertheless, the guard continued, "If this is St. Jordan, then where are the townsfolk?"
"Inside their homes, sir," said Scarlet. "It is raining." She gave a thin smile. By this time, Scarlet was so drenched that it looked as if she'd taken a swim in a lake, clothes and all.
The guard blinked as lightening flashed again, splitting the sky with its blazing streaks. Thunder followed closely, a series of deafening booms like a giant pounding on a drum. The rain intensified.
"My," said Scarlet, her smile becoming strained. "We're all getting quite wet."
The guard glowered at her. "Is there an inn here?"
"No, sir."
The guard's face puckered as if he'd just swallowed something extremely unpleasant. "Where do you live, girl? His Excellency needs a place to stay to wait out this blasted weather. If you make us guests in your house—provided that you're not a pauper—I'm sure His Excellency will be willing to pay you for your trouble."
"Ooh," said Josephine. "Fairy gold."
The guard ignored her. He spoke to Scarlet again. "Well?"
Scarlet appraised the caravan. "His Excellency" was probably the young man on the white horse. The girl stole a brief glance at him. The young man's face was scrunched into a miserable expression as his attendants desperately tried to hold a cloak over him. His red velvet hat with the white feather plume drooped dolefully with the weight of the rainwater.
"Ah. How convenient." Scarlet gestured to her house. "I happen to live right here."
"A tailor's shop?" The guard's tone wasn't flattering.
"Only in the front," Scarlet said. "You're all welcome to stay if you like. You'll have to use the public stables in the common house." She pointed towards the town square. "It's that way."
The guard acknowledged this with a curt nod then cast a nervous glance at the young man. "Your Highness," he murmured, "please go with this girl and dry up first. A thousand apologies, Your Highness, that you had to..."
Scarlet turned away, annoyed. She grasped her mother by the arm and helped her up. The girl was just about to reach for the door when it flew open by itself.
A short, plump woman stood in the doorway. Her graying hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her beady eyes nearly bulged out in surprise at seeing Scarlet and her mother. "Scarlet! Josephine!" She regarded their soaked garments in horror. "Saints above! Whatare you two doing standing in the rain?"
Scarlet sighed. She and her mother stepped into the house as the plump woman continued to fuss over them. "I was wondering where you two went," she remarked, looking displeased. "And I was just about to go out and look for you. Really, Scarlet, I thought you knew better!" The plump woman turned to Josephine, regarding the roses in the woman's hair suspiciously. With a cry, she pounced on Scarlet's mother, grabbing Josephine's hand and bringing it close to her face. "Ha!" The gray-haired woman pointed an accusing finger at the dirt underneath Josephine's fingernails. "Josephine, you went into the woods again! And after I told you not to!"
Scarlet's mother let out a wail. "But...but...the Fair Folk said—"
"Never mind what they said!" the plump woman cried.
"Mother, Martha," Scarlet interrupted tiredly, "this really isn't the time. We have guests."
For the first time, Martha seemed to notice the young man and his attendant standing just inside the doorway of the house. "Oh!" she squeaked, taken aback. "I—I apologize." Trying to hide her embarrassment, Martha shuffled over and closed the door. She assessed the young man in a sweeping glance, taking in the fine clothes and handsome face. "What business brings you here to St. Jordan, my lord?"
The young man did not reply, but his eyes revealed his distaste. His gaze finally settled on Josephine. "What is wrong with that woman?" he asked coldly.
Martha blinked. Josephine retreated further into the house, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide in a guilty fashion as if she'd let a bad word slip.
"What's wrong with her?" The young man repeated, louder, as if Scarlet and Martha were hard of hearing.
Martha finally spoke. "J-josephine?" She began making fumbling motions with her hands. "Well, you see, she...she..."
"Nothing's wrong with her," Scarlet broke in. She narrowed her eyes at the young man. "What's wrong with you?"
For a moment, there was a discomforting silence as the young man and Scarlet glared at each other.
In a low, dangerously even voice, the young man asked, "Do you know who I am, girl?"
"I don't particularly care," answered Scarlet.
A sarcastic smile flickered across the young man's lips. "Ah, but would you say that so lightly if I told you I was the Prince of Terrallis himself?"