Once upon a time, there was a Godly valley with mountains that could touch the sky and trees that cast long shadows. The people who live in the small mountain town are hardworking and happy, so long as they never stray into the forest where the wolves lurk in the darkness. Adults brave the trees in groups to hunt the vicious pack as they have for decades, the conflict is deep with no sign of victory for either side. But wolves are not the only threat, nor the village's only secret - and the link connecting them is a simple cloak of Red ...

Every night, from the highest peak of the uninhabited mountains, a single Wolf howls to the good folk of the valley – as a warning, as a message, and as a reminder of what they did:
"Beware, beware, the Path where the Witch once stood. Beware, beware, of the Wolf in the Wood."

Cover art: thequalityrunaway DOT tumblr DOT COMpany/ post/138570607597/for-confessions-of-the-red-cloak-au-once-upon-a

Aerith looked at the dress she had laid out on her chair and sighed. She didn't want to wear pink, Zack always said she looked pretty in the hue of red, and she didn't want to hear it from Tseng, or anyone else. If she had a dress for a bad day she'd wear it now, something ugly and unappealing. Aerith looked at the few dresses she owned because she was not a spoilt child and preferred simple tastes, none of them seemed to express her resigned mood.

She picked out a blue dress instead, looking it over glumly, this is nothing like dressing for walks with Zack, she thought in despair. On those days she would fret and wish she had clothes that made her look prettier, that would make Zack's eyes linger and his attention stick, and as she pulled the sleeves down her arms she gloomily sighed and wished instead that she was wearing rags.

She didn't want to look her best, she just wanted it over with. She decided that she looked presentable, blue was nice, but navy wasn't her colour, she knew. Hopefully, it would look odd enough to put him off, dull colour for a dull date. Mournfully, Aerith hung up the red cape and ran a hand over it with fond sadness. Aerith had opted against wearing the beautiful red, Tseng would speak of hunters and wolves, and she would be unable to escape the topic this time. Still, she felt so underdressed without it. Her back and shoulders felt bare and vulnerable, she resisted the urge to shiver.

She walked downstairs to wait for her date to pick her up, her heart felt heavier by the minute.

Strange, even though it wasn't her doing she still felt like she was betraying Zack. She bit her lip and worried over what he might think if he knew. When she imagined him sad and hurt she nearly cried, and what if he was angry with her? Aerith covered her face and whimpered, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!

Elmyra came down from her room, taking the old curved steps carefully and when she saw Aerith at the table, her eyes lit up. "Oh Aerith," she blinked a few times, glanced up and down her, then cleared her throat, "It's a beautiful dress, my girl, but your hair needs taming."

Aerith looked over her shoulder, she had left it down because she lacked the usual enthusiasm to carefully brush it into her beautiful braid, it reached her lower back and fell in waves and would likely become frizzy and bushy if left undone. She shrugged, not wanting to say a word about it as she didn't care.

Elmyra pulled a brush from her pockets, and Aerith spotted a needle and thread too – apparently she must have expected Aerith's first attempt to dress to end in disaster, the thought made Aerith feel small and angry. Wasn't she an adult? Couldn't she dress herself?

She didn't react when Elmyra brushed her hair, her movements a little rushed in anticipation, and Aerith found herself wincing a little when she twisted her long chestnut hair like a rope and pinned it behind her head in a bundle. Aerith felt the bun, her head felt too heavy, and protested "I don't like it, it feels strange."

"It's only because it's new, you look so proper! He'll love it."

At those words, Aerith pulled it out almost in a panic. "I don't want him to love it! Ow!" Aerith yelped, her shoulder smarting. She looked up at Elmyra with her jaw hanging slack, the woman held the hairbrush, the hard side facing Aerith and Aerith's shoulder stung dejectedly.

Elmyra was not pleased. She sighed and motioned for Aerith to turn her head back around "Stop being difficult, Aerith."

Aerith inched away "Cetra don't wear their hair up," she protested.

"Well, Catholics have modesty," she pulled Aerith's shoulders back around and tugged the brush through her hair. Aerith didn't say anything else, fearing another slap with the hard side of the hairbrush would be her only answer. She sat numbly as Elmyra tied and looped her hair into a style, Aerith thought in a daze, Elmyra's never struck me before …

In fact, Aerith couldn't remember being hit in her life! Even as a child she wasn't hit, she was put in 'time-out' and would stay there until she felt sorry and had explained to her Mother why she was wrong. The sting wasn't a nice feeling …

"There," Elmyra tutted "It looked much better the other way."

Aerith felt her hair, the majority was up in a bun, with a little bunch ticking against her neck in a loop that felt almost like loose hair. She sighed to herself, relieved. At least it wasn't the Orthodox look Elmyra wore every day.

With not protests coming, Elmyra sat by the stove and started to stoke the fire, talking idly about the state of Aerith's Father. Aerith smiled fondly, he had used up the midnight candles again. Elmyra spoke of getting new ones, grumbling about the man's uneven sleeping habits and love of keeping both herself and Aerith worrying about him.

Aerith bit her lip, Gast hadn't been out of his room in several days. She decided to check on him when she got back … she pulled her walking boots on and sat, tense and unhappy for Tseng to knock on her door.

Zack …

Aerith wilted when the door knocked, her eyes down and her expression blank. I don't want to go. She gasped it out to Elmyra, who dismissed her voice, scolding her for trying to back out on such a nice boy at the last moment. Aerith wanted to cry.

Tseng was dressed in his Sunday best, Aerith only saw him wear those clothes on Sundays when Church was held. A vest of light brown and a shirt of white, a necktie that looked worn and a heavier coat of black that stopped just above his knees. In Aerith's homeland, a man would have brought flowers to court his intended, braided into a flower crown. Aerith had seen girls wear them when on dates with their partners, they'd be left in peace to explore each other. If Tseng had been Cetra, Aerith would have made him one of his own throughout their date, the better the date, the more complicated the flower crown and he would have worn it with pride once she had finished it. He would have dressed casually, given her a location to meet at, and she would have been happier that way.

With Zack, she hadn't minded the break in tradition because he hadn't known about it and because she had little doubts over if he was interested in her romantically. She had told Edea about her customs, and Edea thought that they were wonderful. She had told Aerith a tale of how her former husband had made her a basket for an excuse to get close to her and ask to court her, Aerith longed for the rustic, simple approach while trapped in this formal planning that seemed to involve everyone but her.

Zack asked her permission, he checked and double checked if she was comfortable, and … Aerith thought to herself, the rose he had given her on their second meeting was enough to replace a beautiful crown – he had given it to her with his honest smiles and playful words.

Tseng bowed to Elmyra "Good morning. Am I late?"

Elmyra's smile was radiant, and Aerith felt a flash of anger at her mirth. "Of course not! We were just waiting for you, come on Aerith," she waved her over, beckoning and making eye contact like she was calling over a child.

Aerith got up and dragged her feet over to the doorway, eyes down. "Hello."

Tseng's face subtly changed from pleased to concerned "Is this a bad time?" he asked, looking Aerith's features over carefully "You seem a bit down."

Aerith wasn't sure why she tried to answer him, Elmyra was going to say something first, and she did. "Oh, she's just tired, Tseng. A little sleepless night in anticipation never hurt anyone, she'll cheer up."

Aerith hated how he took her word for it.

When he offered her his arm, she merely stepped to his side with her hands linked together behind her back. I will be pleasant, she decided, but I will not encourage this and I will make that quite clear by the end of the day. She sent Elmyra a glare under her hair "Bye." and walked onwards.

Tseng walked by her side, sending her uncertain smiles every few minutes while they navigated the cobblestone roads and paths to the open valley greenness. Despite herself, Aerith tiled her head back and smiled as she absorbed the openness of the moors. The wind caught her hair and her dress, and she leaned into it like a bird taking flight.

"Are you warm enough?" Tseng asked, out of the blue, a hand hesitating on the shoulder of his coat.

Aerith shook her head "Keep your coat, a little open air never hurt anyone," she raised a hand and spread her fingers as another gust rushed past them, she could feel a silky smooth sensation between her fingers and on her palm. The cold touch was almost ticklish, she smiled: "It's been a while since I've been out in the open, it reminds me of home."

Tseng had tied his hair back behind his shoulders while Aerith played with the sensations in the air. When it was tamed, he asked: "What was your home like?"

Aerith shrugged slightly, trying to find the words "It was … a little like these moors, lots of open spaces and hills, but there were crops of trees too, and lots of communal farmlands. It was an isolated village, but it wasn't lonely. Everyone knew each other, and there was lots of socialisation, spontaneous festivals, or dances. There's always a lot of music because my people say that singing helps the plants to grow," she giggled to herself "My Mother grew flowers in the earth around our house, she always wanted white, but somehow they always became yellow. Father said that there was something in the soil changing the petals pigment, he always tried to explain things."

Tseng nodded at every other word, eyebrows drew together in concentration, Aerith got the feeling he was being polite and decided not to speak for so long next time, he was clearly losing interest.

"Have you always lived in the valley?" Aerith returned the question, again, more out of manners than genuine interest.

"I was born in the city," Tseng mumbled. "My Father wanted my Mother in the best hands for her delivery, and we stayed there for only a few years, maybe I was three, then we heard that this village was expanding and was handing out jobs better than it was handing out wool or sheep. We moved here soon after to work ourselves into a good life, and we've been here ever since." He cleared his throat "We've changed houses a few times when we could afford it and when we could no longer afford it, but we've never left."

Aerith began to wander over a faint path in the dirt and grass, hoping it wasn't going to be one that would lead up to the mountains, that would take all day!

"Do you like it here? Or would you return to the city if you could?"

Humming thoughtfully, he answered "It's good here, good people and a good life. But I think if I leave or stay depends on if there's someone to stay for," Tseng glanced out of the corner of his eye and Aerith got uncomfortable.

Sending a smile nonetheless she chirped "Well there's a whole world out there, you can't wait until someone comes and asks you out, better go find her," she pointed, hoping that these few subtle hints would eventually get through to him without a confrontation.

They paused at the top of an incline to catch their breaths, Tseng asked an unexpected question "Where's your red cloak today?"

Aerith crossed her arms "Elmyra doesn't think it's fitting for me. Not for Sundays, or for casual walks with friends," she moved her head as if tossing a braid, wincing when she was reminded firmly that her hair had been tied and bound against the back of her skull and thus made the entire motion of her head pointless. "I think she hates the colour red. Also … I didn't want the subject of hunters to come up, so please don't mention them," she sighed.

Looking confused, Tseng nodded "Can I ask why?"

Aerith shook her head "No."

"Right … this way, there's a small river further up."

Spotting an orb of red, Aerith jumped off the trail and into the trees so fast that Tseng walked another five paces before realising where she had gone. "Aerith! You don't go off the path, it's not safe."

Aerith pointed upwards "But look!" in the canopy were several ripe apples, a mixture of red and green and just ready for the picking in the autumn season. Realising she had forgotten to eat, her stomach decided to grumble unsatisfied. She hitched up her skirt and placed her boot against the trunk of the tree to pull herself higher, closer to the hanging fruits. She perched herself on a branch and got her feet under her so she was in reach. "I've never seen wild apples look this good," she reached out, leaning with one hand keeping her from falling, and gently twisted one apple from its branch.

She threw it to Tseng, who was watching bemused a few feet away. He caught it and gave a half laugh before polishing it on his coat. "I've … never seen a girl climb a tree in a dress before."

Aerith used her dress skirt as a basket and piled in several apples "I wish I had my basket!" when no more were within her reach she carefully jumped back down and took one for herself. She held it up with pride "My Mother used to say that if you're not willing to work or reach then you'll never get to taste 'em." She took a bite.

Tseng nodded "She was a hardworking woman then, right?"

Aerith sighed, "Mama loved her work, her garden, her home … she used to sing to the plants to make them happy, I had eight in my room just so she'd sing to each one before bed." She could have listened to her voice for hours, and sometimes she was sure she had before she woke up and realised she had dreamed her Mother's songs.

"What happened to her?" the boy wondered, guiding them back to the path with a hand on Aerith's elbow until she was out of the shade and back on the open moors, following the path that skirted the trees.

Trying not to cry, Aerith said: "She got very sick." Her hands began to knead the fabric of her dress, still looped to form a basket for the apples, like an anxious cat. Aerith tried not to think about how Iflana's appetite faded, and her red dress began to hang on her instead of hugging her, how she would complain of painful lumps under her skin in her chest, and how she got weaker and weaker like a flower ripped from the earth. She didn't want to speak of it, but all the memories she was trying to forget danced behind her eyes like shadows cast by flames. Clearing her throat, she managed to mumble, "She died last summer, she went to sleep and didn't wake up. She was exhausted …"

"I'm very sorry." Tseng put a hand on her shoulder "Did she look a lot like you?"

Aerith giggled unsteadily "According to my Father." She knew she had almost all of her Mother's features, and her exact colouring, but Aerith could never imagine being as beautiful as she was or as kind.

Luckily, Tseng seemed to understand the sensitivity of the subject and was silent for the last of the walk to the stream. At long last they entered the woods, the path leading them through a tunnel to a clear stretch of riverbank. Aerith thought it was more of a trickle, the water was from the mountain and had shaped a path through the rock, but it was barely a yard wide. The sound it made, though, was delightful; a trickle and a rush quiet enough to hear the bird sing.

She smiled "It's nice. Maybe it'll reach the sea one day, or form a lake."

Tseng put a hand in it quickly "I lost a pair of shoes in here when I was a child, my Mother was horrified. I almost came back to try and fish them back out, but Father said it would be more productive to make the leather for new ones. I was barefoot for about a week and stayed inside until I had something on my feet again."

Giggling, Aerith said, "In the summer, I walked barefoot around my home and in the community."

Tseng raised an eyebrow "How … strange, didn't you hurt your feet? What about the roads?"

Aerith put her apples down and picked out one for herself "Oh we didn't have those. We walked on grass, and it would come right up to the doors of our houses, and sometimes it started growing out of the roofs!"

She looked at him to share the happy memory, but he was looking more and more disturbed by her descriptions. She cleared her throat awkwardly and wished she had her braid to fiddle with "Well … it was how life was like."

"I … see."

Aerith bit into the apple and pushed another one in his direction to stop the conversation progressing on that awkward note. She stared intently at the spring water and thought back to the clearing with the small pond, where Zack had shown her his true self, and she felt a blush and smile pull at her lips. He always negated the awkwardness that always seemed to intrude around Tseng, his cheerful nature poked fun at the encroaching negativity until Aerith laughed and forgot it.

She was about to break the silence with more questions about the village and Witches and why it had changed its name from Winhill to Nibelheim when Tseng grabbed her shoulders and whispered: "Something's following us!"

Aerith blinked, she looked over her shoulder and silently felt the area with her magic. The earth spoke to her, telling her that branches and leave were being brushed aside in the undergrowth. Yes, there was something out of place nearby. There weren't the quiet footsteps or the stealthy approach of a wild creature, the plants were reacting to this unique presence.

She brushed Tseng's hand off and whispered: "I don't think it's a woodland creature."

Tseng grunted in acknowledgement and reached down to pick up a stick, "I'll go see what it is. Wait here," he paced towards the shuffling noise while Aerith reached to stop him.

"There's no need to-"

As she spoke a four-legged animal with a black pelt and a mouthful of dragging red stumbled from the undergrowth and into Tseng's path. He cried out in surprise and struck the animal twice before Aerith could even gasp. The animal yelped in pain and collapsed onto its belly, eyes wide and fearful now as the stick rained down on its back.

"Stop it!" Aerith screamed running and shoving Tseng over, the woody weapon catching her arm and leaving a nasty scratch, but she didn't care. She knelt by the whimpering mass and gasped as it shivered under her touch. "Oh, Angelo …"

The old dog whined and nudged into her hands, her old eyes and old ears not seeing or hearing with the clarity of youth, her nose twitched several times as her only clear guide to her surroundings. She had been helpless against Tseng's strikes, she couldn't see to dodge or run away, and her poor old bones were not up to the task of fight or flight. Aerith put the dog's head in her lap and fondled her soft ears, trying her utmost to comfort her. "Poor thing, shh, it's me …"

Behind her, Tseng had gotten to his feet, and Aerith turned her wrath on him. "How could you!"

He looked alarmed, he looked surprised, and he looked confused, but he did not look apologetic. He dropped the weapon and rung his hands, "I … I thought it was a wolf-"

"You Beast!" she gasped, "You'd beat a helpless animal just because it had been born a wolf?"

Looking frustrated Tseng tried to justify himself again "If it were a wolf it would have attacked and hurt us, I just wanted to protect you."

Aerith glared "You-!" she cut herself off, utterly furious. She turned the cold shoulder and hissed "I think this date is over. Now go away."

"I can't leave you out here by yourself," he protested.

"Leave me alone! I don't want to be around a violent man, go and apologise to the Almasys. You've got some explaining to do."

"Aerith-"

"Go away!" she shrieked. She threw an apple at him and then ignored him in favour of turning her attention to Angelo, relieved when she heard the sound of Tseng moving away.

Touching Angelo's back tenderly, she felt for any welts or bruises that might have been left, Angelo leaned into her and quickly picked up the item of red she had dropped to nudge in into her lap.

Aerith recognised it immediately "My cloak! What's are you doing with this, Angelo? I put this in my room," she put it to one side and tried to get the poor girl to stand up "Come on, sweetie, let's get you home. It wouldn't be the first time you've followed me when I needed you, isn't that right?" scratching her chin, she managed to get Angelo to limp a few paces after her.

Their walk back was slow and steady, Aerith didn't mind, she didn't want to run into Tseng or Elmyra today. When she returned to the town, she went to the butcher's house and knocked on their door.

The husband, Seifer, answered it. "Oh, good afternoon, Miss … Angelo! There you are."

Aerith smiled and pushed her into the house "She followed me again, she had this for some reason," she looked at the cloak in her arms, "I think she just wanted to give it to me … she got hurt when she found me, please take care of her, sir."

Seifer nodded "I see, how exactly was she hurt?"

Aerith didn't want to tell tales, but she felt that their owners had a right to know "My friend saw her and thought she was a wolf, he hit her a few times with a stick until I stopped him. She surprised us both." Aerith wasn't going to tell tales, she was still angry with Tseng, but not to the extent of pointing fingers and causing bad blood.

The blond man looked his dog over carefully with a stony expression "Idiot young people," he muttered "Everyone's out to get a wolf they don't stop to think what they're hitting, never got anywhere with just aggression, people need smarts too. Squall was right about that."

Aerith smiled when the old girl shuffled forwards to sniff at her red cloak again "Will she be alright?"

Seifer snorted "Angelo? Yes, she's a tough old thing. Used to run on the hunts with us, and has taken many trips and falls along the way. She'll be well with some rest. Inside, girl." He snapped his fingers, and the black and brown dog went to slump over her bed of blankets. "I should have kept a better eye on her. I saw your housemaid putting out some washing and only turned my back for a minute before Angelo was gone, she must have pulled it off the line." He held out a hand "Thanks for your help and apologise to your friend from me. I'll keep this silly old thing in line next time."

Aerith smiled and shook the offered hand "Yes, sir. Have a good day."

"And you, Miss Red, and you."

Aerith's unwanted date goes about as well as you'd expect, and she sees the result of a lifetime of being told that the wolves are bad and should be hunted.

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