Girl in the Red Hood

by Brittany Fichter

  It was two months after the first snowfall that Liesel saw Kurt again. The fire was dying, so Liesel had roused herself enough to put on her cloak and venture out to the village edge to gather sticks for the fire. As she bent down to add another to her bundle, she was startled by a voice.

  "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" When she looked up at him, however, Kurt stopped talking and just stared. Only then did Liesel realize what he must be seeing. Her hours in the cottage had made her drawn and pale. And weak. The last time Liesel had dared to look in her mother's small hand mirror, it wasn't her face that had looked back. It had been a thin, sickly girl with dry yellow hair that fell limply down her back. There were dark hollows beneath her eyes that looked like bruises against her white skin. She bent back down and began picking up sticks again, her face burning with shame. To her surprise, however, he took her by the shoulders and stood her back up so he could study her more. "What happened to you?" His voice was kinder this time, but it didn't lessen Liesel's embarrassment.

  "The ice has kept the supply wagons out of the forest," she spoke to the ground, not willing to look him in the eye.

  "But your family is supposed to get ration, isn't it?" Liesel shrugged.

  "I tried. I couldn't carry the grain back to the cabin."

  "But your father can get it, can't he?" Liesel didn't answer. Kurt's voice hardened a bit. "Liesel, why won't your father get it?"

  "He might remember if he wasn't so busy at the tavern!" Her words were sharper than she'd meant them to be, but the bitterness in her heart was too great to hide any longer. How she had wanted to keep her father's habit a secret from her friend. It was one thing to have an absent-minded father, but it was another to have one who thoughtlessly forgot all else in his quest for comfort.

  "He doesn't hunt either, does he?" Liesel shook her head and finally gathered the courage to look at her friend directly. His expression was as judgmental as she had expected, but his appearance overall took her a bit by surprise. Despite the uneven stubble on his face, and the fact that his pants were even shorter on him than usual, Kurt looked fine. The constant want that was painted on her and on all of the villagers' faces the few times she'd seen them was nowhere to be seen on Kurt. He was healthier than ever, and had easily grown an inch in the months since she'd seen him.

  "No," she said. "The mayor told him hunting is outlawed in these parts." Except for Kurt's family, of course.

  "I forgot about that," he muttered, scratching his head.

  "Well," Liesel began to stand up. "I hate to go, but-" Kurt's eyes opened wide as he looked around again.

  "It's cold out here," he exclaimed. "You'd better go back inside." Sadly, Liesel nodded. Leaving Kurt was the last thing she wanted to do, but her toes were beginning to lose their feeling. "I wish I could..." Kurt frowned in frustration at the cottage just outside the woods.

  "I don't want you to get into trouble with your father," Liesel said. As she turned to go home, he called her name out once more. She looked back again.

  "I'm glad you kept your new cloak red," his eyes were still sad, but he wore a lopsided grin. "I'll be able to find you next time you get lost." Liesel smiled in spite of herself. She could feel his eyes on her back as she went inside. She set the sticks down by the sputtering fire so they could dry. It would be a quite a while before they were ready to burn. She hoped she had enough dry tinder to last until then. She plopped down in a chair that was drawn as close to the hearth as she could get it and wrapped herself more tightly in her cloak.

  Her father's booming voice woke her up several hours later.

  "Liesel, what's this now?" Liesel tried to blink the sleep from her eyes as she stumbled groggily towards the door. When she opened it, she saw her father holding up a dead rabbit and a bundle of small log bits, wrapped in a cloth. "Where did you get these?" he demanded.

  "I...don't know," Liesel stuttered, although she had a pretty good idea as to their origins. "They weren't there when I last went out." The more she thought about it though, the more she had to keep the smile from her face. Warin, however, was not amused in the slightest. "You know huntin' is illegal is these woods," he held up the rabbit and shook it at her. "I don't want them to be thinkin' I'm breaking the rules now!"

  "I think it might be from my friend, Kurt," Liesel had hastened to explain, afraid he might throw it away. "His family owns the land, remember?" Warin had given her a long, hard look. Finally, he handed it to her. "Fine, cook it up. I suppose it won't hurt anythin', as it's dead already. Besides," he followed her inside and began removing his muddy boots. "The dried meat stew they serve in the tavern is gettin' mighty old." Liesel mashed her lips together so the words on her tongue stayed there. So he'd been eating at the tavern, too. What kind of rations had they received? Liesel hadn't tasted meat since the winter had begun.

  The soup Liesel made that night was the most delicious she had ever tasted. And every night after that, a small piece of game had showed up on her doorstep, as well as a dry bundle of wood. Liesel felt herself begin to grow stronger again, and when spring finally came, she was as healthy as she had been before. When they met up again for the first time, nothing was said about the food or wood, but Liesel could see the satisfaction in Kurt's eyes when he saw her walking steadily towards him.

  Though they still met from time, both Kurt and Liesel found themselves busier that spring than the one before. Kurt's father had decided it was time he begin shouldering the responsibilities of the family. Liesel, though grateful for all Kurt had done, was determined never to be so dependent upon others for food again. As soon as the ground was thawed, she had begged Kurt to teach her how to garden in a place without sun. If the village healer's garden was any indication, trying to garden the way she had outside the forest wasn't going to work.

  "Your mother had a lovely garden," Liesel had recalled from her quick glimpse of his house. "Perhaps she could-"

  "Absolutely not!" Kurt's voice was so sharp it startled her. "You are going nowhere near there."

  "But how else will I learn?" Liesel had whined. They were sitting up on the waterfall's ledge for the first time since the snow had thawed. Liesel knew he was trying to protect her, but she was desperate to know. "You don't know what it's like to have nothing in the cupboard to eat."

  "Nothing?" Kurt had given her a hard look.

  "You know what I mean."

  "Look, I'll bring some seeds and teach you what I know."

  "You know how to garden?" Liesel had raised her eyebrows. Kurt seemed too wild, too antsy to have ever grown much of anything. He rolled his eyes.

  "When I disobeyed my parents as a child, my punishment was working with my mother instead of playing."

  "Is it still?" Liesel couldn't keep the small smile off her lips. For some reason, the picture of adventurous Kurt being forced to garden was funny. He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously at her.

  "I just make sure not to get caught." True to his word, Kurt had come with an assortment of plant bits and seeds the next day. He'd explained how to bury and water them, and when they would ready to harvest. And in return, Liesel had worked faithfully all summer, and now that the warm days were growing old, she was proud of all she'd done. If only Kurt could see it.

  "Liesel!" Her father's voice interrupted her thoughts.

  "You're home early," she said as she stood and wiped her hands on her apron. Whatever he wanted must be important for him to skip the tavern for the day.

  "I'm here to take you to buy your ribbon!"

  "My ribbon?" Liesel stared at him blankly.

  "Yes, girl! For the festival! The one that got snowed out last year. It will be here soon, and you're old enough to dance this time!" Despite her hesitancy to attend the dance, Liesel had to smile. Warin really had felt guilty about missing her birthday the year before. Oddly enough, once summer had arrived, it was as if the winter had never happened, and Warin had happily stepped back into being a father. He'd taken to accompanying her to
town over the summer. Sure that her reluctance to go into Ward stemmed from shyness, he attempted to get everyone he saw to have a conversation with Liesel. When they greeted her, upon prompting from him, he was pleased, sure he'd made her a new friend. She didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

  "That's thoughtful of you," Liesel gathered up her garden tools, "but I doubt that any of the boys will be very keen on dancing with me."

  "Nonsense," Warin followed her as she put the tools away. "You're turnin' out just as pretty as your mum."

  "Father, they won't even talk to me. I hardly think dancing is something they really want." Especially if they thought she was marked for evil. But every time she'd tried to bring it up, Warin would hear nothing of it.

  "That's because you haven't given the foolish rascals a chance," her father continued to follow her as she went inside and began to slice the bread for supper. "You spend all your time in the woods with that friend of yours. Might do him some good to see he's got some competition." Liesel felt the blush rise to her cheeks.

  "Kurt is just a friend." As she said the words, however, she felt their inadequacy. It was hardly mere friendship that moved one person to keep another fed all winter. A friend wasn't really what Liesel would call Kurt. But if not her friend, what was he?

  "Daughter." Her father finally took the knife from her hand and put his hands on her shoulders to face him. His eyes were full of guilt. "Come here." He went over to the wooden chest in the corner and knelt beside it, taking a small brass key from his pocket. Liesel felt her throat tighten as he did. The chest had once been painted in bright colors, paint from the Western Shores, her mother had said. Liesel's grandfather had made it himself when Amala was a baby. He'd carved the shapes into the wood, and her grandmother had painted it. Its colors were duller now than they'd once been, but Amala had loved that chest. No one had touched it since they'd taken it out of their little cart. "I was noticin' the other day that your dresses are too short again," Warin reverently pulled something out of the chest and held it lovingly in his lap. He swallowed hard. "I think you're tall enough to wear your mum's dresses now." Liesel didn't move. After allowing her to nearly starve the winter before as he drank away his pain, her father had somehow managed to notice her height.

  Anger and pain mixed in her stomach, and she couldn't have uttered a word, even if she'd wanted to. It didn't matter, though. Warin didn't look up, just continued to caress the item in his lap as if it were a child. "I know I been drinkin' more than I should. When I saw that your dress is too short the other day, I realized I don't have enough money to buy you new things like I ought, and it made me think-" his voice hitched, and it was a moment before he could speak again. "It made me think of what your mum would say if she could see you now. She would let me have it for not buying you new things, and for spending so much time away." He finally looked up at her, his eyes rimmed red with tears. "I know I haven't been there when you needed me to be. I know...in truth, I've been a lousy father. Your mum, she kept me on the straight and narrow. I just...I don't know how to live well without her. I'm tryin', but that's the best I can do." Liesel could only watch him in shock. She hadn't heard him speak so many words since they'd come to the forest.

  "The night you ran away...the night we lost her...I nearly ended it all then and there. Knowin' I had let her die, even though you tried to warn me, and then knowin' you were out in the woods alone. I was so close to givin' up. Then that hunter brought you back, and I had to go on. But I couldn't, not without help." Not without the drink, Liesel thought wryly. "I thought I could bury it all. But then I saw that your dress is too short...," he faltered again, finally holding up the object in his hands. As it unfolded, Liesel realized it was one of her mother's old dresses. Tears streamed down her father's face as he looked at her beseechingly. "I can't imagine all the awful things she'd say if she could see all the ways I've hurt her girl."

  As if in a daze, Liesel walked just close enough to touch the dress. Liesel had never seen her father cry, other than the night she was rescued from the wolf, and she couldn't be unaffected by his tears. And yet, the vestiges of the last two years were still with her. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the hunger in her belly and the weakness in her legs. She was still haunted by the afternoon in the healer's house, where Warin held her back as she tried to save her mother's life. She still heard her grandmother's screams as she watched the cabin fade in the distance. How many times he had hurt her. How many times must she forgive him? Liesel scrunched her eyes to block out the sight of her broken father on the floor, begging her forgiveness. She didn't want to forgive him. He'd hurt her too many times.

  "You never know, my Leese." Amala's voice echoed in her mind. Immediately, Liesel was back in their old kitchen in the city, helping her mother roll out dough. She was young, only five or six, and she had just asked her mother why she always told Warin she loved him when he left in the mornings. Her parents had carried on a loud disagreement the night before, although Liesel couldn't recall what it had been about. She just remembered asking her mother why she would tell her father she loved him even when she was mad at him. Amala had shaken her head and given Liesel a wry smile. "You never know when you'll see someone again. I may be angry, but if the Maker calls him, I don't want to regret my last words." Liesel opened her eyes again. She was still angry, and she knew she would be for a long time. But deep down, she knew her mother was right.

  "I...I suppose we could get a ribbon," she heard herself saying in a faint voice. "We could get one that's dark blue, to match this." Taking the dress from her father, Liesel buried her face in it. It smelled a bit dusty, but her mother's scent lingered there as well. As she stood there, clutching the dress, she felt Warin wrap his own arms around her.

  "I'm goin' to do better, Leese!" he whispered fiercely. "I promise." Amid all the emotions Liesel felt flying around in her heart, in that moment she wanted to believe him. A sad voice inside, however, whispered that it would be a long time before she could.

  ***

  Two weeks later, Liesel had her ribbon. It was the only silk she had ever owned, and deep down, she had decided the moment they'd purchased it that she would have rather kept it for herself and simply wear it than ruin it with embroidery for the dance. But if it would please her father, she was willing to give it a try. Since the day he'd noticed her newfound height, Warin truly had been making an effort to spend more time with Liesel. In fact, he was around so often she could hardly leave the house without him trailing after her. In desperation, she finally sent him to the tavern one day with enough coins for two drinks so she could sneak out to see Kurt without her father following along like a new puppy. Kurt's opinion of her father was one that involved words Liesel couldn't repeat.

  While Liesel was grateful that her father was finally taking an interest in her, she had finally begun to harvest her garden, and she really needed Kurt to teach her how to preserve the food. At least, that's what she told herself. But in her heart, she knew she missed him as much as she needed him. Garden or no garden, she needed to see Kurt.

  He was sitting in their usual spot atop the waterfall's ledge when she arrived. She'd been tall enough to climb the ledge without his help for some time, so the waterfall had become their place of meeting. There were days when she'd climbed up alone, days when his father had kept him home helping with the family. On those days, she would sit still and think, or sometimes mend a piece of clothing. The water's rushing sound was relaxing, as was being able to see the contour of her mountain in the distance. From the look on Kurt's face, however, it seemed he'd spent more afternoons waiting alone for her lately, and they hadn't brought him the same peace they brought her. Guiltily, she went to her usual sitting rock and avoided his gaze. The fire he'd lit and the frying pan he had brought with him piqued her interest, but she didn't ask.

  "You've been busy," his voice was resentful. Liesel sighed.

  "I'm sorry, Kurt. Things have been...different lately."


  "Different. I see." Taken aback by the anger in his voice, Liesel peeked at her companion. He was glaring at the fire. While she did feel bad about being gone so much, Liesel couldn't help but wonder what had brought this storm on. Frowning, she drew out her ribbon and began to embroider her name onto it, a task she had been putting off as long as she could. The dance was the next evening, however, and her father had been asking when she would be ready to cast her ribbon for the first dance.

  "So what's his name?" Kurt spit out.

  "His name?" Liesel looked at him blankly.

  "The one that ribbon is for. The one that's so interesting." It took Liesel a moment to realize what he was really saying.

  "You're jealous!" she exclaimed. He frowned even harder at the flames.

  "I am not!" But Liesel couldn't keep the smile from her lips or the blush from her cheeks. While his guess was wildly off, Liesel could not help feeling a bit smug. A year ago, she'd desperately worried that Kurt would tire of her. She'd never expected him to be the one to fret about losing her.

  "Kurt, why can't you come to the dance?"

  "You know that. My father won't let me."

  "And my father is why I am going." He raised his eyebrows incredulously at her, and when he spoke, his voice was sarcastic.

  "Your father is making you go to the dance?" He shook his head and went back to poking the fire. "Now I know you're making things up."

  "No, truly." Liesel seated herself beside him and crossed her legs. Her grandmother had always fussed that sitting in such a way was improper, but neither Kurt not the woodland creatures had ever seemed to mind. "He thinks I am going to have fun at this awful thing. I'm only going because he wants me to."