Hunt- Red Riding Hood Retold

by Demelza Carlton

  When she was satisfied that she'd made enough of a mess, she washed her hands and sought a suitable vantage point from which she could see clearly while she waited for dusk. The tallest tree was not the stoutest, but she was light enough to make the climb, if she kept close to the trunk. She climbed as high as she dared, before unwrapping the coil of rope she'd worn around her waist to tie herself securely to the trunk.

  Only then did she string her bow, knowing speed would be her ally once the wolf appeared. The more arrows she could sink into its hide, the better chance she had of killing it before morning. Then perhaps the souls of her family would let her sleep without nightmares.

  Wrapping her cloak tightly around her to keep out the cold, Rosa settled down to wait.

  She must have fallen into a light doze, for she opened her eyes to darkness, or near enough. The full moon above lit the clearing, turning the reddened snow into the black of corruption. And yet…something moved across it, like a cloud, but more corporeal.

  She plucked an arrow from her quiver and nocked it, ready to fire. The creature moved closer to the chickens, and Rosa loosed.

  The arrow found its mark, but the creature that collapsed on the snow was too small to be the wolf. Its tail twitched once, then was still. A silvery fox, she thought, drawn by the bait. Not the wolf at all.

  She slumped against the tree. Well, the fox would now be bait, too. She considered going down to retrieve her arrow and perhaps butcher the fox, to spread more fresh blood over the scene, but decided not to bother. She had plenty of arrows, and all night to wait.

  Silence descended on the clearing again. Rosa longed for a hot meal, or even a flask of mead, but she hadn't thought to bring more than a chunk of ham, as she was already heartily sick of cheese.

  Mead would have ruined her aim, anyhow, she told herself as she munched on the cold ham.

  Something slammed into the trunk of her tree, nearly shaking her out of it, and the ham fell from her fingers to the ground below.

  A second passed, and she heard the sound of chewing, accompanied by a faint whine, like a dog in pain.

  Whatever it was crashed into the tree a second time. Then a third.

  Rosa hung on for dear life, hoping the rope around the trunk would hold.

  Then she heard the sound of scrabbling, like the creature was digging a hole in the snow.

  Or a grave.

  Rosa shook herself. Animals did not dig graves.

  The sounds stopped, but she barely had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before something hit the tree, harder than before. Again. And again.

  On the fourth blow, the tree tipped sideways at an alarming angle, spilling Rosa off her branch into space. Only the rope around her kept her from falling.

  The tree shuddered from the force of another blow, and the rope became uncomfortably tight. She flung her arms out to catch anything that might support her weight, but she dangled too far away to touch anything.

  Cursing, Rosa pulled out her knife and began sawing at the rope as another blow sent the tree toppling against the one beside it. A smaller tree that began to buckle under the weight…

  Rosa sawed faster, barely noticing as she scraped her fingers raw on the rope, for her attention was directed down, in the hope that the snowdrift below would be deep enough to break her fall.

  But all she could see was a pair of glowing blue eyes, staring straight at her.

  The wolf, she knew without a doubt.

  The beast flung itself at the tree trunk again.

  Ominous cracks sounded, though whether from her tree or the other, Rosa couldn't be sure.

  She could feel the rope stretching, unravelling, ready to drop her within reach of the waiting wolf, but her blood-slicked fingers hummed with power. The rope snapped, but the air caught her, as she had commanded it to. She spread her cloak, letting the wind carry her to the lower branches of the next tree.

  A much sturdier tree than her first choice, though she could no longer see much of the clearing.

  The wolf's eyes followed her, as if the creature could see her.

  No, surely not. Wolves saw movement, and used scent to find their prey. If she stayed still against the trunk, it would lose interest in her and investigate the chickens instead.

  The wolf that had let the fox go first, like some sort of scout, before attacking the very tree she sat in. Where the arrow had come from…

  No. Wolves were not that clever. Men thought like that, ones skilled in battle. Not animals.

  Something closed on her boot. Rosa kicked out, and was rewarded with a whine as the wolf let go. She scrambled higher up the tree, out of reach.

  Why wouldn't it leave her alone? Surely now it would go and eat…

  But the wolf sat down in a patch of moonlight, turning those glowing eyes up at her as if to say it could wait all night.

  It could, she realised. It could wait all night and all day, its fur protecting it from the cold.

  Whereas she had no food, not enough rope to secure herself, and she'd have to sleep sometime. When she did…she'd fall, and the wolf would have her.

  No. If she had to climb a hundred trees and ride the air currents until dawn, the wolf would not touch her. If the creature really was a wolf, which she was beginning to doubt.

  She began to climb.

  Thirteen

  It hadn't been a hundred trees, but she had lost count after the first dozen. She'd climbed until she could not reach any higher, then summoned a gust of wind to carry her across the treetops to another tree, which she would climb to the highest point before doing the same again.

  She fell more than she flew, letting the spread cloak slow her descent, but as the night went on, her mind considered how she might improve upon her situation. Something larger and more rigid than her cloak to catch the air, big enough to lie upon full-length as it buoyed her up. But not too heavy, for the air could only lift so much.

  Rosa reached for the next tree, willing herself to climb it with her aching arms, even if the wolf was no longer in sight. Until the sun rose, she knew the hunter would not sleep.

  How did she know that?

  Rosa turned it over in her mind, until she found the answer. Magic. Whatever had turned that creature into what it was now, it was magical. A cursed king, an enchanted wolf…what difference did it make? It was no woodland creature to fall into an ordinary trap like the fox had.

  No, the creature had a man's cunning.

  A man who wanted to kill her.

  Who had already killed her family.

  A creature that would be the next to die.

  Not her.

  But she would need a new plan, now she knew what she was hunting.

  Dawn took her by surprise, as she reached the top of a tree that wasn't far from her cottage. She could see the stone altar below, still dusted in ash.

  Grandmother, I will avenge you, she swore as she summoned a final gust to take her safely to the forest floor.

  Her legs felt as soft as ricotta when she landed, but Rosa didn't dare stay here. She could not rest until the stout walls of the cottage kept the wolf out.

  With a brief thanks to the gods of the wood for the gift of her magic and for delivering her home safely, she trudged toward the cottage.

  Only to find that despite all her efforts, someone had beaten her home anyway.

  Fourteen

  Deep in his cups, Alard had grasped Chase's arm with both hands. "Promise me something, Sir Chase," he'd slurred.

  Chase had nodded once, encouraging the man to continue.

  "Warn the witch. She lives in a cottage in the woods. Tell her you're here at my request to slay the wolf. Tell her to stay out of the woods, where she'll be safe."

  Chase had nodded again, agreeing to the man's request. What else could he say, anyway?

  "Thank you," Alard had breathed, before pitching face-first onto the table and starting to snore.

  Chase had reclaimed his arm and headed off to his own bed, where he'd s
lept like the dead.

  Now, dawn found him outside in the cold, packing enough food into his saddlebags for a week-long hunt while one of the stable boys fetched him several extra quivers of arrows from the armoury. It had been a long time since he'd last hunted with Abraham, and he missed the man more than ever. A few jokes would make his grim task so much easier, but it was not to be.

  Alard and the Baron were still in their beds, as Chase would be, too, if he'd been in the Rumpelstiltskin Castle with Maja and Abraham. Or even if he'd stayed at the court in Aros.

  Chase shook himself. He could no longer live in the past. He had a wolf to kill, and a new life to make. A life of his own, without Maja or Abraham or the help of some far-off court.

  But first he had to find a witch, a woman who worked magic like the curse that had turned Abraham from a sane man into a mad one.

  He set off into the woods, glad to find the snow lay light on the ground under the trees, unlike in town. The path was well-worn, too, as if many villagers travelled to see the witch. He wondered what the village priest would say about such things. Chase could not recall seeing a church in town, come to think of it. His father would certainly turn over in his grave if he knew.

  But here, so far from civilisation, it was easy to see that the old ways would not die easily. Especially without a church to remind the people that they were supposed to believe in a new faith now.

  While living in a world with numerous gods and monsters, curses and magic. Chase shivered as the town vanished from sight between the trees.

  His horse felt no such chill, as she plodded onward.

  He must be imagining the dread that coursed through him, he decided. He struck up a bawdy tune, and sang at the top of his lungs to pass the time.

  He'd managed to sing it through three times, or at least the verses he remembered, before the cottage came into view. Stone walls topped with thick thatch, which bore only a light dusting of snow. A small enclosure beside it held two goats, several chickens and a stable of sorts, with a carefully laid out garden in the space between. Even in the dead of winter, the garden showed signs of life, for the snow had not completely covered it yet.

  Magic, the sneaky voice in the back of his mind told him, but he hushed it. It was nothing of the sort. The surrounding trees evidently kept this place clear of snow, much like they'd protected the road to reach here.

  And there was the witch, crossing the clearing to reach her door, her white hair coming loose from her braid.

  Chase's heart relaxed. An old, wise woman – no wonder Alard wanted her warned and protected. Her knowledge of healing herbs was surely important to his people.

  Chase stepped out of the shadows, straightening his shoulders to make himself look more heroic than he felt. "Fear not, mistress. Your Baron has sent me to slay the wolf. If you but keep to your cottage, I will soon make the forest safe for a gentle woman such as yourself."

  The witch whirled, sending her cloak flying out around her in a swirl of blood, for it was as red as the stuff in his veins. "Then the Baron is a fool, for who will make the forest safe for the likes of you?"

  Chase's mouth dropped open, and he could not seem to close it. What he'd taken for an old woman was nothing of the sort.

  Her youthful face and equally youthful figure – for her thick woollen dress only emphasised the curve of the flesh beneath it – were nothing to the blue fire in her eyes that held him transfixed.

  Then she smiled, just a little, and Chase's heart turned to mush.

  "Go. Find something else to slay. A dragon, or some such thing. There is magic at work here that you cannot begin to understand." She flicked her fingers in dismissal.

  That flick broke the spell, somehow, and Chase's tongue unfroze. "I cannot simply leave," he said stiffly. "I have accepted a quest, and it would be dishonourable to run away before it is complete. I am a knight, and my honour is more precious than my own life. I would not expect a woman to understand matters of honour."

  Her smile widened to a grin. "Then you're a bigger fool than the Baron, Sir Knight. Honour is about doing what's right, and the right thing for you to do is leave this forest. Now. While you still have your life." She opened the door of her cottage, stepped inside, then slammed it shut.

  Chase opened his mouth to defend himself, but that would be pointless – she wouldn't hear a word of it. And what could he say to convince her she was wrong?

  Nothing.

  Deeds spoke louder than words.

  So he would let his deeds speak for him. He would kill this wolf, drop its head on her doorstep, and then she'd see who was a fool. He nudged his horse to continue along the path, in the direction the witch had come from.

  That wolf would die before the day was done, he swore.

  Fifteen

  More than anything, Rosa wanted to sleep, but sleep refused to come. Her grandmother's words haunted her – she had predicted the arrival of a knight, right in time for Midwinter. A pity she hadn't predicted the wolf, too.

  If that poor fool of a knight did not take her advice and instead went hunting for the wolf…it was his body she'd find next.

  She told herself she didn't care what happened to a stranger. Men could do whatever foolish things they pleased in the forest, and if it got them killed…

  But it was her job to protect those who wandered into the forest. She served the gods of the forest, as her grandmother and all the witches before her had, and this was her domain.

  Especially when there was magic involved.

  For no one else in the village or any of the towns around was a witch.

  And to serve the gods of the forest properly, to become their priestess instead of just a novice, she needed that knight. Alive.

  Cursing, she rose from her bed and opened the door to see if the knight still waited outside.

  To her surprise, he seemed to have taken her advice and headed back to town, for there was no sign of him or his horse.

  Good.

  She longed to go back inside, but her conscience would not allow it. For if the Baron had sent one fool into the woods, he would send more. And she might not be able to warn them all.

  With one last, longing look at her bed, she fastened her cloak and set out for the village.

  The boys who had taunted her before her grandmother's death were engaged in a snowball fight in the snowdrift beside the road, too busy to pay attention to her.

  Or so Rosa thought, until a snowball came sailing her way.

  Did the little brats know she'd spent all night in the forest, protecting them? Risking her life for theirs? They would never have dared to throw such a thing at her grandmother.

  Magic came to her as easily as breathing now. A puff of air turned the snowball into a flurry that swirled harmlessly to the road at her feet.

  She turned to face the boys. "Next time, that's what will happen to you," she said.

  The boys' eyes widened in horror before they bolted.

  She shook her head at the gullibility of small boys. As if she could summon a wind strong enough to do such a thing. The worst she could do to them was lift them onto their parents' roof or into a nearby tree, and they'd probably just climb down in any case.

  Rosa felt eyes upon her as she approached the Great House. Before her grandmother's death, she would have tried to ignore the prickle between her shoulder blades and the person causing it, but today she was done with evasions.

  She would turn and face the wolf, if that's what it was, and anyone else presented so little threat compared to the dread beast that she feared no one.

  "Is there a leaf clinging to my cloak, that you stare so?" she snapped.

  "You do not deserve something so fine. Not when you scarcely give him the time of day. It should have been mine," a female voice hissed.

  Piroska sat outside the smithy where her father worked, her eyes burning hotter than the forge.

  The silly girl thought Alard had given her this cloak? Ah, the girl's jealousy had made her fo
olish indeed. Especially when Rosa was certain the cloak had been a gift from the Baron to Grandmother, like many of the valuable items in the cottage. Except for the beautiful woven carpet hidden in the loft. Grandmother had blushed like a maiden when she'd described the Crusader knight who'd given her that particular item.

  Rosa had always thought there was more to that story than her grandmother had said, and now it was too late to ask. She would never know.

  "Have you ever asked him for a new cloak? After all you give him, seeing as he won't even let you keep his child, surely he owes you something," Rosa said.

  Two spots of red appeared on Piroska's cheeks as her hand flew to her belly. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

  As if Rosa had read the girl's thoughts, she knew Piroska hadn't taken the latest elixir yet, or Alard had not yet given it to her. She still carried Alard's baby.

  Rosa smiled. "In a village as small as this, nothing remains a secret long from the village witch. Least of all about the girl who might one day become the next baroness."

  "I'd be a better one than you!" Piroska spat.

  The girl was right, but Rosa did not need to tell her that. The next baroness would need to be a brood mare, or the Baron's bloodline would die out and the king would give these lands to someone else. Someone who might not respect the gods of the forest as much as the Baron and his ancestors.

  Yet another thing to confront Alard about: wolves, and now his choice of wife. If Grandmother were here…but she wasn't, so this task fell to her now, too.

  Being the next baroness, to be endlessly bedded by Alard in between popping out babies, would be such an easy life compared to being the village witch. But Rosa would still be expected to waddle around the village in between births. Better that Piroska bear the babies. Or any girl, really.

  Alard might one day be the Baron, but he was a bore in bed. Or was that a boor?

  Not the sort of passion suitable for a priestess, anyway.

  Rosa walked on, into the main hall of the Great House.