11 comments/  50099 views/  43 favorites

Anitole's Red Riding Hood

By: Anitole



"Dear me, but you are going along the path too fast, Persephone."

Persephone was at the top of a small hill when she turned to look back at the hunched and small frame of her elderly grandmother taking the trail slowly, her stout stick making little dents in the sod of the trail as she moved.

"These hills," she muttered under her breath before looking up to meet Persephone's gaze. "I swear one of these days I'm going to give up coming to fetch you all together, Persephone. You'll be forced to stay in the village with your mother and father all the days of the week. I don't care if they think they should have one day free of you."

Persephone walked over and set on one of the broad roots of a large oak tree to wait for her grandmother—who was indeed moving slower and slower with each passing Sunday. She wrapped the hem of her faded green cape around her and sighed. It was growing colder this time of year and her old cape was growing too small to do any good in fighting the chill. "Please, Grandmother, do hurry. I'm freezing my tits off up here."

Her grandmother stood bolt upright. "Persephone! Where in the world did you learn such talk?"

Persephone waved a hand. "That doesn't matter. The point is I'm fucking cold!"

"I get the picture Persephone, no need to use further vulgarities." Her grandmother continued walking up the path. "I swear, children are growing up too fast these days. No sense of decorum. You could simply say, child, that you are 'feeling a chill,' or that you're 'quite cold.' Anything so long as it isn't profane."

Grandmother had by this time crested the hill and was now taking the time to rest her aged flanks next to her granddaughter on the root of the old tree.

"But the profanity, Grandmother," Persephone said, shivering. "The profanity denotes an imperative. I am so cold that it warrants profanity. I do wish mother would let me buy a proper hood and cape."

"Nonsense," the grandmother said. "That one I made for you especially when you were 10 and it isn't at all overworn."

Persephone looked down at the blue knit fabric of her cape. There were several patches and tears that had been mended with blue thread. It was a cape that had never been fashionable and was now too threadbare and too small to even be functional. Her grandmother was farsighted to the point of being blind if she actually believed the old blue cloak wasn't "at all overworn." 

"Still, I am very cold."

"Well then why are we dawdling here then, child?" The grandmother rose and began walking again. "We've only one more hill before we reach the clearing and it's growing dark, don't you know?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

"And it's never good to be in these woods after dark, dear."

"I know, Grandmother, you've told me a million times."

"And even in the daylight you should always come along with me or with someone from the village and never, under any circumstances should you ever..." 

"Stray from the path," Persephone echoed along with her grandmother. "I'm not a child anymore, Grandmother, I'm 15, for the love of Chri—"

Persephone's grandmother wheeled and leveled an angry expectant gaze.

Persephone got the point and modified her speech in midsentence. "For the love of Christopher?"

Persephone's grandmother considered and shrugged. "I only reiterate because it is very important."

"I know."

"And I love you, dear, as do your parents..."

"I know."

"And you can't trust these woods. They're full of dangerous creatures, both natural and unnatural."

"Grandmother, please, not again..."

"Wolves!" The grandmother waved her cane in the air violently. "Great monstrous wolves bigger and more ferocious than any you've ever seen near the village. More cunning than any animal God put on this earth. I tell you they are the work of some other, darker force, dear—these wolves, I mean. They lure you away from the path, they lure you with your heart's deepest, darkest desires, and when they have you off the trail, far from any help that can save you, they snatch you away and you'll never be heard from again."

"Then why do you live all the way out here by yourself if they're so dangerous?"

The grandmother stopped walking and turned to face Persephone, her eyebrows knit in a mixture of anger and confusion. "What?"

"If you're so afraid of the wolves, if they're so dangerous, why do you live all the way out here? Why don't you take a cottage closer to town? Make everything easier on everyone, prevent an incident involving wolves..."

"Shut up, girl." The grandmother wagged her cane and Persephone ducked just in time to dodge a blow to the side of her head. "Nobody likes a smartass."

Persephone cocked an eyebrow at her grandmother.

The grandmother met the incredulous look with one of derision. "I mean, 'smart aleck.' That is what I meant to say, Persephone. You know that, don't you? A slip of the tongue, a slight mistake in speech..."

Persephone heard the snap of a twig over her shoulder and she jumped and turned forgetting her grandmother and the long banter that seemed to be receding in the distance. Persephone looked back up the path to the top of the last hill. She imagined for a moment she'd seen a shadow by the oak where they had stopped to rest, she felt a tad uneasy but then she was drawn back by the calling over her grandmother. 

"Persephone? Persephone! Are you listening to me? Stay close!"

Persephone turned to see her grandmother already far ahead of her on the trail, she shivered a bit and ran to catch up. "Yes, Grandmother."

The two of them took only a moment before they laughed at the situation and they continued on until they had reached the cottage and Persephone helped her grandmother off with her shoes and the two of them ate a supper of soup and bread before it was night and time to put out the candles.

"Persephone," the grandmother called out from her chair by the fire. "Persephone, help me up will you?"

Persephone came from the kitchen table where she had been reading from her book of fairy tales to find her grandmother already standing, a large smile on her face. She held up a magnificent red cape and hood, both of them the proper size for a woman fully grown. Persephone's eyes lit up as she ran to take the cape from her grandmother's hands.

"There we go. You'll forgive my taking so long making it for you. My hands don't work as fast as they used to, and there was so much more of you to account for with this one. Do you like the color?"

"Oh, Grandmother!" Persephone put the cape around her shoulders immediately and went to the glass to examine herself. The cape came down to just above her ankles, the hem was embroidered with black and silver thread, the pattern was beautiful. The best part was, as Persephone looked at her reflection, she noticed that the red of the cape brought out some of the red in her eyes making them look less blue and much more like the Persephone color that had been the reason for her namesake. "It's wonderful, Grandmother. Fantastic! I shall adore it always. Oh, thank you!" She rushed to give her grandmother a hug.

The grandmother, running a hand over the embroidery, whispered into her granddaughter's ear, "I will not always be around, you know, to protect you and so the best I can do is give you this."

Persephone kissed her grandmother, the two of them with tears in their eyes. "Oh, Grandmother, don't say things like that. You know I don't want to think of a time without you."

The grandmother patted her granddaughter and pushed her away slightly. "We must not fear the future, Persephone. One day you'll grow up and you'll find someone special to take care of you, and then you'll have daughters and sons and granddaughters and grandsons all your own to worry about and care for. And though I'll be long gone by that time, you'll live on without me, and you'll find happiness I'll wager."

With that the grandmother took Persephone up into the loft where there was a bed for her. The grandmother left the candle so that Persephone could watch it burn down as she passed slowly into sleep.

"Good dreams, sweet Persephone," the grandmother said, kissing her grandchild's soft sable hair before taking the ladder back down into the main room and creaking across the floorboards to her own bed.

Persephone watched the candle and listened to the sound of her grandmother changing out of her dress and into her nightgown. As her eyes grew heavy she looked at the red cape and hood on the hook by the ladder. She snuggled up in the covers thinking how wonderful she would look in it walking through the village with her basket on market days. She imagined boys walking up to her, running their hands over the embroidery and perhaps—Persephone half thought as she smiled lapsing into dreams—underneath the hem onto her body.

~o~

Well, as the years have a way of doing in fairytales, they passed quickly and it wasn't long before Persephone was quite grown up indeed. By the age of 19 she had grown quite beautiful, her face a picture with lovely full lips and a clear complexion, her frame small and lithe with just the right amount of rounded flesh here and there to give her a grace of form that was utterly feminine. She was considered a beauty in the village and many of the young men and boys thought of her when they were alone, where nobody could see. Though she was a bit pale, her cheeks were often flushed with exercise for she was fond of hard work, running fast, and even climbing trees. There was something spritely, or perhaps monkey-like about her, it was at once innocent and yet fascinating.

Persephone knew quite a few boys who liked her in the village, but she wasn't of the mind to give them a second thought, for though many of them were handsome and strong they didn't seem at all interesting or mysterious.

Of course, the passing years had been hard on Persephone. Her mother had died and her father was struggling to adapt to life after the loss. It was difficult for Persephone, for she wanted to comfort her father, but nothing she did seemed to help him. It was his grief that often forced him to tell her to go away from the house and leave him alone.

Persephone didn't blame him. She knew that she looked enough like her mother to make it very painful for her father. 

This meant much more time spent in the solitude of her grandmother's cottage in the woods. Persephone found all manner of excuses to go and visit, especially since her grandmother's health was failing with each passing season. In the summer there were summer colds, in the autumn there was the flu or allergens from the rotting leaves. Winter was a time of sharp chills and head colds. And no matter what the temperature, grandmother always complained about her joints. "They ache so, Persephone. Oh, do they ache."

It was on one nice autumn Saturday when Persephone was walking along the path to her grandmother's house when she heard the noise of rustling in the bushes. She froze in place on the little trail and listened carefully, her heart seeming to have jumped from her chest into her ears. She took a tentative step in the direction of the bushes when suddenly a red bird leapt and fluttered through the air, startling her as it twittered and chirped, circling her hooded head before lighting on a branch not far off the path. Persephone laughed at the idea of being afraid of something so small and harmless. She whistled at the bird and the bird, hopping on its perch, whistled back.

Persephone smiled. "How do you do, little red bird?"

The bird chirped prettily and hopped in the air, circling and landing on a branch slightly further off the path.

Persephone took a step to follow, smiling. "What's the matter, don't you think you owe me an apology for scaring me the way you did?"

The bird chirped and leapt into the air, fluttering up to land on the low branch of a tree some twenty feet off the path. Persephone took another step to follow but paused, looking down to find both her feet in the undergrowth of the forest. She had officially, for the first time in her life, left the path. She turned to find the path was still behind her—only a half a pace behind her in fact. 

She smiled to herself. The way she'd always imagined it from her grandmother's stories and warnings, the trail was supposed to have disappeared the moment she'd left it. It was hilarious to think such things could happen in the real world. Persephone looked around her; the sun was high in the early afternoon sky, the light streaming through the half-bare branches of the trees. She saw no harm in walking just a short distance off the path. After all, the stories had always been just that, right? Stories to keep her from wandering off and getting lost or hurt...

The red bird chirped and sang a song that was beautiful. Persephone walked steadily toward the bird, smiling and whistling at it, cooing, hoping to get close enough to offer it some crust of the bread loaf which she had in her basket. She was only a few feet away when the bird grew quiet and eyed her carefully. Then, Persephone paused. She thought she could hear something from behind the tree trunk, a sort of soft breathing. She backed away a pace but froze when a hand came out from behind the tree and the red bird, unfrightened by its presence, acquiesced to being cradled in the palm of this hand and alighted from the branch gently.

"Hush now," a man's soft voice said and, from behind the tree, stepped the figure of the rather stately and handsome owner of the hand. He was dressed humbly in an old brown tunic and britches; his feet were bare and for some reason that didn't strike Persephone as odd. He smiled at her and then held the little red bird up to his lips. He seemed to whisper something and the bird chirped as if in understanding. The man released the bird and it landed right on Persephone's shoulder, sidling close to peck her softly on the cheek before fluttering away into the bright sunlight above.

Persephone laughed to see the bird go and then looked back to the man as he leaned by the tree and seemed to close his eyes taking the sun's rays on his gaunt but florid face.

Persephone tried to think of something to say to the man. But instead she took in his frame. He was tall, but not broad or overfed, he actually seemed a bit undernourished; his stomach flat and his cheeks a bit on the hollow side. His skin was a dark sort of russet, a tone earned from a life spent almost exclusively outdoors. His hair was like iron, though he was not old by any means. In fact, he was made quite appealing by the fact that he was very close to Persephone's age and he wasn't anyone Persephone had ever met in the village. She took a step closer to him and he opened his eyes and spoke, looking not at her but up into the sky as if still watching the bird though it had long flow out of sight.

"In all the years," he began, and then he lowered his gaze to meet hers. "In all the years you've walked these trails with your grandmother you still feel a need to rebel against good advice, I see?"

Persephone was puzzled. "I-I'm sorry?"

The man clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You've strayed from the path," he said, pointing to the still visible ribbon of trail that ran through the wood. "After you were told hundreds of thousands of times not to, you deliberately left the path, I mean, really..." he sighed. "If I were of a mind to do anything to you; know it would be natural selection, you realize. I'd really be helping the human race by weeding you out of it."

Persephone smirked. "Why don't you get it over with, then? I've got places to go. Or are you all bark and no bite?"

The man smiled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "You are such a cocky little sprite—I'll give you points for that. And my, what big pretty eyes you have."

"Now I know you're dangerous."

"Oh?"

"The devil has a sweet tongue and yet bares a sharp tooth."

"Did your granny tell you that?"

"As a matter of fact she did. Do you know my grandmother?"

"I've seen her and I know her reputation. She was once a very beautiful woman and then she grew old and had children and those children had children, one of which is you. She also is very fond of weaving stories just as she wove the wool to make your red cloak. And might I say it's very fetching, my compliments to her."

"Do you live here in the woods?"

"I live where I am and for now I'm in the woods."

"Do you always talk in flattery and riddles?"

"Only when talk is cheap and no other passers-by traverse our spooky old wood."

"I'm Persephone."

"I know. I've watched you a long time, Persephone. Coming and going, going and coming. Not to sound as though I've been following your every move, but I have marked you, you understand?"

"No. Do you have a name?"

He uncrossed his arms and put his hands up to grip a branch of the tree. "Why do you want to know my name?"

"Because you know mine, it's impolite to hold the advantage over someone, you know?"

"Impolite or cunning?"

"Well both, I suppose."

"Well I'm of the mind to keep up cunning at all costs. To be polite means to submit to expectations and I endeavor to do the unexpected. You won't hold it against me I hope?"

"In that case I'll be going. My grandmother told me never to talk to strangers."

Persephone turned to head back to the path only to hear the laughter of the young man as he followed her. "Ah, yes, but your grandmother also told you never to leave the path, didn't she and you've broken that rule."

"I'm going to unbreak it." Thus saying, Persephone stepped back onto the path, turning to look at the young man who smiled a rather broad grin that showed a few too many teeth. "Now," she said. "I'm going to leave now."

She began walking briskly, her chin held high as she went up the path toward the hill with the tall oak tree. She heard the rustling of bushes and looked over her shoulder to find the young man keeping pace with her, walking through the low bushes beside the trail.

"Are you following me?"

"Yes."

"Well stop it." She turned and walked on up the hill, feeling a slight satisfaction of victory in the fact that the rustling was no longer behind her. She imagined him behind her, standing beside the trail, watching her walk up the hill and away from him, a look of disappointment on his face. She reached the top of the hill and turned back to look down on him but her glib smile fell when she saw that he was gone.

She squinted at the brush and looked through the trees but saw nothing, no movement whatsoever. "Hey!" she called. There was nothing but the sounds of birds fluttering away at the sound of her voice. She tried again, "Hey, where'd you go!"

There was suddenly a shadow of movement in her peripheral vision and she wheeled to find the young man on the side of the trail right next to her, leaning against the old oak playing with a bit of a twig. "I didn't go anywhere. Was there something you wanted?"

She took a step away. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"How did you get up here so fast without me hearing you or seeing you move?"

"You're nothing but questions, you know that?"

"You're nothing but evasive."

The young man reached out and ran a hand over Persephone's cheek. "Does anyone ever call you Red? I must admit I've always been curious about whether or not anyone calls you Red since you got that cape."

Persephone adjusted her grip on her basket looking down at the stranger's feet. "My mother used to," she said. "She died last winter."

The stranger's eyes seemed to focus on hers. She looked up to find not an expression of sympathy but one of confusion. 

"She went in the night," Persephone explained. "Very sudden; we hadn't even known she'd been sick."

The young man nodded and then looked down at Persephone's hands clutched around the handle of her basket. He reached out and touched one of them. "I'm very sorry. You loved your mother, yes?"


Anitole's Red Riding Hood Ch. 02



~o~

The next morning when Persephone awoke, she was surprised to find that she was at home in her own bed. A morning breeze blew in through the open window, fluttering the curtains and lending a slight chill to the room.

Persephone stretched her arms up over head and threw off the heavy comforter. She swung her legs out and shuttered as she let her bare feet touch the cold wooden floor of her bedroom. She dashed across to the bureau and quickly pulled on a pair of socks.

She next ran over to shut the open window against the chill, taking a moment to look out through the glass to the edge of the forest far in the distance on the edge of town. Had he carried her here after she'd fallen asleep? How long had she slept? It felt to her like only seconds before she had been in his arms, listening to his heavy breathing, to the strong beating of his heart. 

She looked out into the street of the village to see some of the shutters of the neighboring houses just being opened to let in the daylight. The baker, with his cart of fresh rolls and bread loaves was following the milk man as they traveled up the street. She quickly dressed and went down to buy a liter and two loaves for the day.

She'd paid the baker for the bread and was turning, putting her change back in her little coin purse to run smack into the broad chest of Philip, the woodsman's son. Who caught the purse when she dropped it and the liter of milk before it could hit the ground.

"You should be more careful, Persephone." He took the two loaves of bread which she had managed to save on her own and handed her back her change purse. "Can I help you inside with these?"

"Well, I could have managed on my own."

"I'm sure you could have." He stepped out of the way and let her open and pass through the gate before following. "It wasn't my intention to startle you. I was merely in the neighborhood."

"You live in the neighborhood, Philip." She opened the door to the house and held it for him.

"Yes," he smiled, passing through. "That would explain why I was in it at such an early hour. But I saw you and thought I'd just say hello. Where should I?"

"On the table."

"Right." He placed the groceries on the table and then, awkwardly, removed his hat. "You look very pretty this morning," he said. "Would you like to go with me for a walk in the square?"

"In the square? Why?"

"For the fun of it."

"What's fun about walking through the square?"

"I... I don't know. I, uh, I just wanted to know if you would like to go for a walk. We can walk down to the bridge over the river if you'd prefer that?"

"I'd prefer not to walk anywhere at the moment."

"Oh," he looked down at his feet. "Well, in that case can I stay and help you with anything?"

She shook her head. "Philip, stop acting like a boy."

He chuckled. "Sorry."

It was no secret in the village that Philip had always been rather sweet on Persephone, however, it had become more of a problem of late. It wasn't that Philip was unattractive, he was big and brawny and his face had a sort of soft simple freshness that had been there since they'd played together as children.

"You're sweet to ask," she said, brushing past him into the kitchen. "I'm sure there are plenty of other girls who would love to go for a walk with you anywhere."

"Yes," he smiled. "You suggested I ask Elsa for a walk the last time I asked you, and the time before that you suggested I ask Gretchen."

"Why don't you take Henrietta?"

"You suggested her before Gretchen and Elsa."

Persephone smiled. "I would have thought any one of those girls would be right up your alley, Philip."

He smiled and looked down at the floor. For being such a big and strong young man he was still very much a shy and bashful boy. "They're all very nice girls..."

She came over to the table and took one of the loaves of bread over to the cutting board to begin slicing it. "It's just the hold out that entices you, huh?"

He looked up a bit perplexed. "No," he said, defensively. "I... You're just... You've always been my friend and I like you. I don't really like the other girls. Elsa, she's a bit stuck up and Gretchen, well, she never seems to stop talking."

"And I bet she complains about how you never seem to have anything interesting to say?"

"Yes. I actually started writing down random thoughts in a book so I'd remember them, have something to chat with her about. But she asks so many questions, it's like being in a courtroom with a prosecutor grilling you, trying to trip you up."

"A very good analogy," Persephone said, taking the heel of the bread and putting it on a plate. She took a glass down from the cupboard and took the plate and glass over to the table. She poured a bit of milk into the glass and placed it all in front of Philip. "You can have the heel, I know you like that part."

Philip took the bread and ripped off a piece. "Anyway, if you don't want me to ask anymore I'll stop."

She smiled as he took the torn piece f bread and put it into his mouth to chew, thoughtfully. "So you don't think I'm stuck up or gabby, then?"

"No."

"What about cold and unfeeling. I have after all turned you down more times than is decent considering you're the best looking boy in the village."

He blushed a bit red. "I am not."

"Well, the sweetest at any rate."

"Careful, you'll get my hopes up."

It was at that moment that Persephone's father walked down the stairs, tucking in his wool shirt and yawning. "What's all this morning noise I'm hearing? Hello, Philip. I see she's feeding you."

"Good morning, sir."

"Haven't you got a father who makes you chop wood in the mornings?"

Philip smiled. "I do. I told him I was going to ask Persephone for a walk this morning and he let me have an hour."

"Why aren't you both out walking, then?" Her father took a glass from the cupboard and joined them at the table. "You two used to spend every day together when you were small, playing in the meadows or making mud pies by the river. More than a few ruined dresses were blamed on you being a bad influence, young man."

Philip looked down at his now empty plate. "Yes, well. I'd best be getting back."

He stood and walked to the door. Persephone followed him out and walked him to the gate. "You really are a nice boy, Philip."

"Thank you." He put his hat back on top of his head. "Maybe tomorrow or the next day, huh?"

She smiled. "Maybe."

~o~

It was late in the afternoon when she set out from the village for her grandmother's house. The sky had grown gray with the passing of the day and a rainstorm threatened as she walked slowly and thoughtfully into the wood, not knowing from behind which tree the wolf might leap. She crested the first hill, looking over her shoulder at the village. She took in the thatched roofs and stone chimney-tops and then turned and started down the hill.

She was nearly to the top of the next hill when she heard the snap of a twig. She turned to look in the direction from which the sound had come, a smile on her face, anticipating that her lover would step out from behind an elm and take her in his strong arms.

There was no movement though, no sound. And after a moment she heard the brush rustle behind her to her left. She wheeled around in time to see a glimmer of russet hair and then whatever it had been was gone.

It was at this moment she began to feel a sense of dread and she turned back on the path, preparing to run back over the hill toward the village. She had only taken one step before she felt the force of a body slamming into her and knocking her off the trail into the brush, pinning her to the ground.

"Who do I find tripping through my woods, but pesky little Red Riding Hood?" Persephone looked up into the big golden eyes of the unfamiliar girl. The stranger sat atop Persephone with her knees planted firmly against her quarry's shoulders. The girl's hair was a dark, dirty red color and her skin was pale and slightly luminous. She smelled slightly of compost, and her teeth were white and very sharp. "Three guesses as to why I'm about to rip your rotten little throat out, deary?"

"Wh—who are you? What do you want?"

A hard smack across the face seemed to explode out of nowhere. Persephone had barely had time to see the girl's hand move before the sting of the blow was already beginning to subside.

"He was mine! I'd chosen him. He was going to be mine, and then you had to go and take him away! Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you could cause for him if the others were to find out?"

"What? Who? What are you talking about?"

A sudden rustling of leaves and the weight of the girl atop her vanished. There was the tremendous sound of snarling and growling and in a second Persephone lifted her head to see the two of them, the gray wolf had come out of nowhere and tackled the girl, pinning her to a tree. The girl let out a loud scream of pain that seemed to morph into a gruesome whine as she lashed out, her arms lengthening as her hands foreshortened into tremendous paws. In a second the transformation was done and the russet-haired female timber wolf had sunk her teeth into the throat of the one who had charged into her.

It was all so quickly executed that even when it was all over it took Persephone a few moments to gather what all had happened. The she-wolf managed to get a firm grip on the throat of her attacker and using her powerful jaws, she choked him until his grip on her loosened. She freed herself, bounded from the tree and landed fleetly on the ground behind her attacker. Both wolves circled each other a moment, the gray wolf taking the trouble to put himself between the female aggressor and Persephone.

The she-wolf lunged, but he was ready for her, snatching her out of the air and pinning her. She struggled and in a moment the violent slashing stopped. She lay still, petrified with fear as she realized it would take one quick jerk of her opponent's jaws to snap her neck. A whimpering came from the she-wolf then, and after a moment, the gray wolf removed his teeth from her exposed throat. The timber wolf leapt up and quickly departed then, her tail between her legs as she bounded away from the trail.

The gray wolf turned then to look at Persephone. She took a step back, he appeared much bigger up close. She had, up until that moment, only ever seen him in this form from a distance. "Th-thank you," she said, her voice very small.

The wolf snorted, a bit of steam coming out of his nostrils. The rain started then, little droplets hitting the ground and the leaves of the low bushes along the edge of the path. As the droplets fell onto the wolf's nose and throat, the features seemed to melt away. It was only a few instants before he stood before her, naked on the path, a rather nasty looking gash along one side of his neck.

"You're hurt." She took the cloth from the top of her basket and pressed it against the wound. He was silent, looking at her, his eyes still not entirely human.

"You carried me home last night?"

"Yes."

"Where did you put my cloak?"

"I didn't move it. It's up the trail, by the oak."

She took the bloodied cloth away, the wound was already beginning to clot and heal rapidly. She looked about for some place to put the bloody cloth and after a moment she settled on putting in the pocket of her skirt. He picked up her basket and together they began walking along the path, quietly, over the hill.

"Is she..." Persephone began, but then stopped. She cleared her throat. "How did she know about me?"

"She knows things."

"She wants to kill me?"

"No. She wanted to scare you. She wanted to, I think, scare me a little, too. It's what any of the others would do if they found out. Hunt you, kill you, then the village would be next."

"They'd attack the village?"

"One by one, people would start to go missing. First you, then your grandmother, then anybody caught too far out too close to nightfall. The net would close a little more each day, more and more people would be caught in it..."

"Why?"

"Because it's the way of things."

"Why is it the way of things?"

They had come to the big oak. He waited while she went around behind the tree and picked up the slightly soggy red cloak.

"Once upon a time," he said, "before the world grew civilized, men worshipped our kind. We were protectors, you see. We guarded men against the darkness. Men revered and respected our race, but then, over time the reverence was replaced with fear. Men grew distant, they began to distrust us and then one day they discovered our weakness..."

Persephone ran her hand over the silver thread.

"Yes," he said. "They began to call us monsters then. We were hunted. First with arrows with tips forged from silver and then with guns and powder and silver shot. A few survived those times and hid here in these woods. Eventually man began to forget we had even existed, as monsters as well as deities. We became creatures of myth and folklore. We hide from mankind as best we can, doing our best not to cause trouble for them and keep them from causing trouble for us. But if, some day, we should be found again, well, many of our pack would rather kill than be killed."

"But my grandmother knows about you."

"She knows and yet she has proven herself to our elders as being trustworthy. She keeps her silence so long as we keep our distance from her and from her loved ones."

Persephone nodded, moving in close to put her head against his bare shoulder.

"So, this is a problem, then."

She felt his hand move up, his fingers curled through her wet hair. The rain was falling all around them; neither of them seemed to notice or care. She listened to him breathing.

"Aren't you afraid?"

She looked up into his eyes. The grayness of the wet world around them made the violet of them more pronounced.

"Yes," she said. She lingered a second before tearing her gaze away from him. She walked on, willing herself not to look back at him. By the time she arrived at her grandmother's gate she was drenched. She threw the cloak over her shoulders, though it did little good, and opened the latch. She finally looked back up the trail as she shut the gate. He was gone. There was nothing but the woods and the rain.

~o~

"Tell me a story, Grandmother."

Persephone was seated on the warm rug by the hearth in her grandmother's house. Her clothes were draped over the fender and she was wrapped in a large blanket.

"You're a bit old for stories, aren't you, my dear?" Grandmother took the kettle from over the fire and poured some of the hot water into two cups for tea. "Anyway, I think I've told you all the stories I know."

"No you haven't," Persephone said, taking the cup her grandmother held out to her.

Her grandmother nodded, doing her best to avoid her granddaughter's eyes. "I feared one day you'd begin to ask questions I would not want to answer." With that the old woman went to her chair and sat, blowing on her steaming cup of tea. "There is very little to tell."

"Start with his father." Persephone sipped her tea, expectantly, doing her best to look resolute. Her grandmother was a master of evasion and this was one topic Persephone was not going to let her equivocate.

The old woman set her cup of tea aside and looked over her shoulder out the window into the growing darkness of late evening. Her thoughts seemed to wander off into the woods almost, her eyes half closing in memory. Her face softened a bit and when she turned back to face her granddaughter, her eyes moist and tearful.

"I named him Alexander," she said. "They don't have names in their culture. They can all speak and pass themselves off as human if they want to but they don't. They're very proud. It's one of the more stupid things about them if you ask me—their pride. To be that prideful is to think themselves superior and they aren't."

"He must have hurt you very badly."

"I was young. Not quite your age. I lived with my parents in the village in those days. I used to love to go for long walks by myself, out along the outskirts of the meadow right at the edge of the woods. I would take books and sit by the river just out of sight of the village and I would lie in the sunshine, reading, listening to the sound of the water rushing over the big rocks. One day, lying by the river bank, I was aware of a feeling like I was being watched. I looked up, and standing atop one of the rocks, only a few meters from me, was the wolf." The grandmother wet her lips and leaned forward. "He was very large and gray with large paws that gripped the stone with sharp claws, I swear I felt sure could cut through the solid granite like knives through cheese.

"I sat, petrified, thinking that I'd caught him preparing to pounce on me. But he just stood, looking at me, and I looking at him. His eyes were unlike any eyes I had ever seen in an animal. Behind them there was a sort of intelligence. He not only saw, he perceived and he understood. After a few moments, moments that for me seemed to last hours, he leapt from the rock to land on the ground just beside me and bounded away into the thick of the woods. I had never been more frightened of anything before in my life, and yet, when he had gone, I felt an odd sort of sensation, like I had experienced something very profound and significant in that first encounter with the wolf. I rushed home and told my mother and father about what had happened and they forbade me to ever go near the river or beyond the edge of the meadow ever again."

Persephone straightened up her posture as her grandmother paused in her story telling to have another sip of her tea. "Did they know about them in the village back then?"

"I don't know for sure. My parents and all the other parents in the village told children stories of monsters who roamed the woods, feeding on anyone who ventured out too far alone. Like you I had, at a certain age, begun to suspect these stories to be nothing more than just stories. It is natural as one grows up for curiosity to lead one out further than one has gone before."

"So your parents said you couldn't go into the woods again."

"Naturally, I obeyed them... for a few weeks. But then, I exercised the same adolescent tool that I fear you exercised the other morning. I selected the memory of what my parents had told me to do and I then simply ignored it. I was back at the side of the river before even a week had passed, this time I removed my cape and spread it out on the ground. I had brought with me some dried meat. Don't ask me now if I knew then what he was, or what I had planned. Sometimes I think perhaps I had some inkling of an idea that he was no normal wolf. But other times, I recall my youth and my innocence and I think, perhaps, like a silly girl, I imagined capturing him and taming him, making him some sort of... pet."

"And did he come?"

"Yes. I had spent quite a few hours by the river, waiting, reading from my book. I must have drifted off to sleep because when I awoke he was there, but not perched high above me on the rock once more. No. I awoke to the sensation of his nose pressing against my cheek. I started and tried to back away on my hands and feet, but he followed pressing his nose closer, sniffing me. Over one of his shoulders I saw the remains of the parcel that had held the dried meat. While I had slept he had crept up and devoured the meat and now, that being gone..."

"Were you afraid he was going to eat you all up in one big gulp?"

The grandmother chuckled. "Well, something like that, yes. But he didn't. He sat right before me and cocked his head, curious about me."

"What happened then?"

"I spoke to him. I said, 'You're not going to hurt me are you?' "

"And did he speak to you?"

"No. He just lay down, idly with his paws crossed before him, his eyes studying me. After a few moments I decided I would get closer to him. I moved slowly at first and when he didn't seem to mind, I ran my hand over his head, letting my fingers massage the spot between his ears. He began sniffing and then licking my face. It was at that moment that I feel we first became friends."




Anitole's Red Riding Hood Ch. 02



"But he was still a wolf," Persephone said, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them slightly as the warmth of the fire began doing its job.

"Yes," her grandmother said, looking into the flames of the fire. "I went to the river quite often in those days. I would take bits of meat and my books and I would sit with his head in my lap reading aloud to him, all manner of stories. The first book I read to him was about Alexander the Great of Macedonia It was that book that caused me to start calling him Alexander."

"But when did you find out that he was also a man?"

"In a moment child," her grandmother chided. "I'm coming to that bit. Don't be impatient." The grandmother took up her tea cup and drained it, taking a moment to pour a little more hot water over the strainer before she continued.

"One day a boy from the village followed me to the river. He saw me with the wolf and ran back to tell my parents. My father was furious, he locked me in my room and said I would not come out again unless I had someone to make sure I stayed near the village."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? I stayed in my room. First, days passed and then weeks. The summer gave way to fall and I was only allowed out for meals with my family and walks in the village square with my father walking within a few paces of me. It was a strange sort of melancholy that overcame me in those days. At night I would dream of the wolf, I would dream of his eyes and the feeling of his fur under my fingertips." The grandmother shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Some nights I would wake up suddenly with the sensation that I was being watched through my window. I would run to the lattice and look out but there would be nothing and no one. I began to think that I was losing my mind."

The grandmother's hands fidgeted slightly in her lap. She reached for her cup of tea and drank. "It was winter when my parents finally began to relent. I was allowed to leave my room and walk about the house and the yard alone. My father allowed me to walk anywhere in the village so long as I had company. The boy who had followed me to the river so many weeks before—he would eventually become your grandfather—he walked with me often, and was very sweet.

"One day, as we walked along the edge of the meadow, I looked up to the tree line of the woods. There was a man there, walking out of the woods, his clothes were very crisp and clean and he carried a walking stick. He walked with a stately sort of purpose toward your grandfather and me. And when he had crossed the meadow to meet us, he removed his hat and bowed to me. 'Hello,' he said, 'I am a traveler and I seem to have lost my way. It's growing dark out and I was wondering if there might be an inn in your village."

Persephone rose to her knees. "Was it him? Was it Alexander?"

"Hush," the grandmother chided. "His suit was of a fine cut and his face was clean and freshly shaven, not a hair seemed out of place. One, at first glance, would have taken him for a dandy or a fop, more concerned with his own appearance than with any other matter of import. My instinct upon meeting him was to dislike him instantly"

"So then it wasn't your wolf?"

The grandmother's eyebrows sank low and Persephone shut her mouth meekly.

"There of course is no inn at the village," the grandmother continued. "There still isn't to this day. So your grandfather and I decided to lead him back to my parents' house. My father and mother were in the habit of letting a spare room on occasion. The traveler introduced himself to my father as Monsieur Alexander, a Frenchman making a survey for the emperor."

"It was him!" Persephone clapped. "And he'd come to rescue you."

"Well, 'rescue' may not have been the term the people of the village might use, but yes, it was my wolf. He introduced himself to my father and mother, and he offered them money for a room for the night. The whole time he spoke to them never once looking at me. Once he had paid my father, I was told to take him upstairs to the spare room we kept for visitors. By that time dusk had begun to fall. I lit a candle and led him up the stairs to his room. He followed quietly with his hands folded behind his back, very respectful and quite the proper gentleman."

"Did he say anything?"

"He was quiet, as I said. I remember trying to engage him in conversation, muttering something about the irony of a map-maker getting lost in the woods... He didn't say anything until we had reached the door to the room he was to have for the night."

"And what did he say then?"

"He took the candle from my hand, bowing to me like a gentleman, and then, before passing into the room, his eyes seemed to change slightly in the flicker from the little light as he said simply, 'The River misses you.' And with that he went in and shut the door."

Persephone looked into the fire that had begun to dwindle in the grate. Outside the wind howled, crashing with great force against the windowpanes. She looked up to find her grandmother staring into the same dying embers in the hearth. "And then?" she asked.

The grandmother took off her spectacles and rubbed her tired eyes. "The rest will wait for another day," she said. "Go up to your loft. It is time for rest, now."

Though Persephone wanted to resist her grandmother's order for bed, she acquiesced, knowing that the old woman would tell the story in her own good time.

In the loft, by the light of her little candle, she listened to the night winds howling long after her grandmother had gone to sleep. She let her mind dwell on the image of her lover as she had seen him that day, naked in the rain, sadness in his eyes, and then after her mind had dwelled some time, she let it wander until finally she felt her eyes close and sleep take hold of her.

~o~

There was feeling of a light breeze across her face. She stirred slightly at the sensation before the hand clamped down over her mouth and she awoke in a sudden panic.

"If you make a sound, it'll be your last." The red-haired woman's eyes seemed to glow green in the darkness and, even though the moonlight was weak, Persephone could make out her brilliantly white sharp teeth. After a moment, the woman removed her hand, slowly. "You will come with me, into the woods."

"Why should I? You'll kill me."

The woman's smile grew wider. "I could kill you here and now just as easily. Your grandmother is no one to scare me out of such action. Come, get dressed. We must talk." With that the woman moved to the open window at the back of the loft, climbed out and jumped out onto the ground below. Persephone hesitated only an instant before grabbing her cloak and draping it over the shoulders of her nightgown. She tugged on shoes and went to the window. She looked down to see the woman waiting impatiently, her arms crossed. "Come on. We haven't got all night."

~o~

The she-wolf was off and over the low stone wall that separated the garden from the rough scrub and bramble in a flash. She had not transformed in the moonlight as Persephone had anticipated, but still, though she was still in her human form, the she-wolf moved with incredible speed.

Persephone followed after only a second's hesitation and was already far behind the she-wolf as she jumped the wall, making her way along a deer-run.

When Persephone reached the crest of the small hill, the she-wolf stood waiting. "You're not very fast."

"Sorry," Persephone panted, slightly winded. "I didn't know it was a race."

"If it were I'd win," the she-wolf said. "I'm the fastest, you know. Nothing can outrun me. Not even your boyfriend."

"Where is he? Are you taking me to him?"

"I've no idea where he is."

"What do you want with me?"

"I'll tell you once we've gone a bit further into the woods," the she-wolf turned and began sprinting again at top speed.

Persephone did her best to keep the she-wolf in sight, and the she-wolf stopped every so often to make sure the red cape and hood were still within her sight. They moved like that for what seemed like miles until finally the deer-run opened up into a clearing. Persephone came into the clearing to find the she-wolf sitting still in the center, her legs folded underneath her, her head cocked back in a sort of silent contemplation of the night sky.

"Is this where you wanted to bring me?"

The she-wolf did not respond to Persephone's query. Instead, she sat quietly pondering the sky, as if she were watching some event of great and indescribable beauty unfolding among the stars. Persephone walked around her quietly and took in the bright glow of her pale face and vermillion eyes in the moonlight.

Persephone sat on the ground in front of the she-wolf, looking up, wondering what could hold her companion's attention so raptly.

"They say..." the she-wolf began, looking down into Persephone's eyes. "That very few creatures understand the concept of fidelity. Wolves, for instance, are among the only creatures in nature which mate for life. This is a lesson taught to us when we are young. We are told to emulate the wolf, for the wolf is the nobler half of our being."

Persephone sat silently a moment. The she-wolf contemplated the silence and then continued.

"You have been chosen to receive the love of a wolf," she sighed. "The males choose mates in our culture and none should question it. But in your case, as in a very few previous cases, the wolf has been misguided and unorthodox in his selecting you. Humans are ignoble. We are taught to shun them and avoid them; their civilization is too convoluted and unnatural. They once were like us, but they lost their way long ago."

"If you're trying to be insulting..."

"Shut up."

Persephone's jaw tightened, she wanted to tell the she-wolf what she could go and do to herself, but she said nothing.

"Do you love him?"

"Peter?"

The she-wolf made a face. "He said you had given him a label."

"A name," Persephone corrected.

"Very well, if he has accepted the name I can do nothing about it. Do you love him?"

Persephone leaned forward, pulling her hood back and away so the she-wolf could see her face. "What's it to you?"

The pain exploded across Persephone's face before she had even seen the she-wolf's hand move. Her face hit the grass-covered ground and in a second she felt herself pulled up by her hair. The she-wolf's sharp teeth spat words in her face. "Do you honestly think I will take any sign of insolence from you? He defended you on the path and I relented out of respect for him. He is prince among our clan, and for that reason alone did I spare your life."

"Did you tell the others about me?"

Persephone looked fearlessly into the she-wolf's eyes, already knowing the answer to the question.

The she-wolf released her grip on Persephone's dark hair. She walked to the edge of the clearing in silence.

"You mock me?"

"No," Persephone said.

The she-wolf turned, her eyes were damp and shown brighter in the moonlight. "Your secret is safe as long as I can keep it. He... Peter," she said the name slowly, as if adjusting to it, "Peter has been a prince in my heart for quite a long time. It is hard for me to feel anything but pain that he has chosen another over me."

Persephone swallowed hard, brushing her hands through her hair. "You're mad at me?"

"No. A bit irritated that he should choose a human over me, after what his father went through so many years ago. It is no secret that the great gray elder mingled with a human female and that the coupling nearly destroyed them both."

"My grandmother..."

"Even she," the she-wolf nodded. "And in their case the coupling was dissolved when she returned to her human world leaving him broken. Make no mistake, girl, if that happens to my love I will not let it stand. My vengeance will envelope you and all that you hold dear. I will see your village burned to a cinder, your grandmother's house will be swallowed up by the forest. And you will be made to watch it all."

Persephone's mouth was suddenly very dry as she realized she had been staring deeply into the she-wolf's eyes and in them she was certain she could see the scenes described in the menacing threats.

The she-wolf blinked and the sinister look on her face dissolved. "There. With that out of the way, we can now be friends. What are you called in your human tongue?"

"P-Persephone."

"Very well, Persephone. And what name would you devise for me?"

"I..." Persephone shook her head. She took in the girl's flowing russet hair, in the silvery moonlight it seemed to shine from within. "How about Autumn?"

"Autumn? Is that not a name of a season."

"Yes. But your hair, i-it reminds me of autumn leaves."

"I'll accept that name, then," the she-wolf said, moving in close to Persephone with a sudden rush.

Persephone cringed, thinking the sudden movement was one of violence, instead she felt herself enveloped in the she-wolf's arms. She opened her eyes to find the she-wolf hugging her firmly. "We will be friends," the she-wolf said. "I will care for you as if you were my own pup. So long as you are the first in my love's sight, you shall also be the first in mine."

"Th-thanks." Persephone could feel the she-wolf's arms around her. The embrace had been sudden but oddly, as Persephone adjusted to it, it felt comforting to feel the she-wolf's breath by her ear. Persephone reached her hands around her new companion and returned the embrace, adding the new name to her thanks. "Thank you, Autumn."

The embrace lasted a second longer than was necessary and when the she-wolf pulled away, her smile seemed to glow warm even in the cold half-moon light. "You are very pretty, for a human girl," Autumn said. "And you smell of sweet flowers and my beloved." Autumn looked down at her own bare feet. "I'm sorry, I should not call him that anymore. He is yours, now."

Persephone reached out a hand to touch the face of the she-wolf. There was a sadness in her animal eyes that drew Persephone closer to her. "You're very beautiful. I hate that I've made you sad."

Autumn reached up and held Persephone's hand against her cheek. "You are so warm," she said, and then she turned her head to kiss the palm of Persephone's hand, softly with her full pale pink lips. "It's no wonder he chose you to love."

As the she-wolf's lips continued to softly press kisses into Persephone's palm, Persephone looked over to the bit of scrub that had caught her red cloak. She was unprotected from this wolf, vulnerable, and yet she found herself oddly comforted.

The she-wolf was about the same size as Persephone in her human form. A bit thinner in the hips and waist, with a small face atop a neck that seemed only a few centimeters too long. The length, thickness, and quantity of her hair added to the impression of her size. The dark red barely reflected any of the moonlight, and fell in thick unruly ringlets over the she-wolf's tunic.

There was something girlish in the way the she-wolf moved, and her voice, when she spoke softly was supple and utterly feminine despite being deep and commanding.

"When you're not trying to blow me away," Persephone said with a smile. "You're really quite beautiful. Autumn suits you for a name."

The she-wolf's eyes met Persephone's and the two of them smiled at each other, and then, without ceremony, the she-wolf turned on her heel and began walking back in the direction of the cottage. "Friends, then," she said over her shoulder. "Now I must take you back so that your grandmother will not discover you have gone in the night."

Persephone did not linger very long, but couldn't help but smile at her odd new friend. Something was comforting about having Autumn on her side.



Anitole's Red Riding Hood



Persephone nodded. The stranger lifted her chin.

"You know they really are big and pretty eyes. And with the cape and hood—I have to say, it's a look that's at once innocent and provocative." The young man ran his hand over the embroidery and winced, pulling his hand away, and then forced a smile to cover up his expression. "The embroidery is well done, your grandmother make it for you?"

"Don't you know?"

"Like I said I only marked the comings and goings. I don't watch your every move through the woods."

"Well perhaps you should, you might learn something about personal boundaries. Excuse me." She brushed past him and continued down the hill a few paces.

"You're suddenly very haughty."

She turned and glowered at him. "Wolf," she said, simply.

The stranger smirked and nodded. "And have I hurt you?"

"Stay away. I'll never leave the path again."

"Don't pretend, Red."

She turned and looked at him. "Don't call me that. Pretend what?"

"That you don't want to stay and talk with me. You do and we both know it. You keep turning around. I like that. It shows you're interested."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay you're not." He waved. "Enjoy your evening with grandmother." He folded his arms expectantly, waiting for her to turn and leave.

Persephone set her jaw and scowled at him. "You're very irritating, you know that?"

"Your grandmother is waiting." He pointed down the trail. 

"Well, I..." She raised a hand in exasperation, but stopped before she let out the tirade and simply turned on her heel to walk the rest of the trail to her grandmother's cottage without looking back once. She knew though, if she had, she would have seen a gray wolf sitting by the trail, watching her as she walked on.

~o~

Grandmother was in her chair by the fire when Persephone walked through the door into the warmth of the cozy little cottage to hang up her cloak and carry her basket into the kitchen where plates were waiting on the table for her.

"Dear," her grandmother said, closing her book, looking into the kitchen after her granddaughter. "You're in and through to the kitchen like a shot today."

Persephone called into the next room, doing her best to keep the fluster out of her voice. "I'm sorry, Grandmother," she called. "I just, it's a very ripe cheese I've brought for you today. I-I don't want it spoiling before we have a chance to eat it."

Her grandmother's happy cackle came to Persephone's ears. "Well, all that rush for a bit of cheese. Sometimes, girl, I do worry about you. I'm so glad you could come out and see me today. How is your father?"

"He's still a bit out of sorts," Persephone said, setting her basket down on the kitchen table and taking out the cheese and bread and the little bottle of elderberry wine her grandmother was accustomed to.

"Well that is to be expected. When I lost your grandfather all those years ago I thought I'd never learn to breathe again. It is difficult when you love someone to have to let them go before you're ready."

Persephone set the bread out on one of the plates with some of the cheese and took it in to her grandmother's chair along with a glass of the wine.

"Thank you, dear," her grandmother said taking the glass and setting it on her sideboard before spearing a bit of the cheese with a knife and smearing it onto a broken-off piece of the bread. "Oh, sit, sit. Tell me the news from the village. Are there any boys of note after you?"

Persephone sat on the floor beside her grandmother and sighed. "A few. None that I'm interested in, though."

Grandmother nibbled at her bread. "Is something the matter, dear?"

"I- No." Persephone readjusted so that her head came to rest beside her grandmother's knee. "Tell me a story, grandmother. Tell me one about a wolf."

"A wolf?"

"Yes," Persephone looked up at her grandmother's small blue eyes. "Tell me about the big bad wolves that snatch girls away never to be heard from again."

"Well what do you want to know exactly?"

"Where do they take the girls?"

"Away, never to be heard from again."

"And what do these wolves look like?"

"They can take the shapes of men," the grandmother said, putting her plate aside. "That's when they're the most dangerous, when they're men."

"How?"

"Because that's when they can make being taken far away never to be heard from again sound like an appealing idea."

"Did you ever see a wolf, Grandmother?"

"Yes. I've seen more than a few in my time."

"How close did you get?"

There was a silence where all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. Persephone looked up once again to find her grandmother staring into the orange flames, an odd look on her face.

"Grandmother?"

"It was a long time ago," she said, looking back down at Persephone—some tears in the corners of her eyes, a stout smile coming through to block them out. "I was close, though. And close is too close at any distance, Persephone. That's all I have to say about that."

"What did he look like, as a man I mean?"

"Tall, sunburned skin, a lean frame, most attractive. Were he a real man he'd be the most beautiful."

"And he has purple eyes, just like mine?"

The grandmother started and looked down at the girl, there was no anger in her voice or face, but there was concern. "How many times have you seen him?"

"Just once. I left the trail following a cardinal and he was there. He caught the cardinal and whispered in its ear. It gave me a kiss on the cheek and then flew."

"Take me to where you saw him."

"What?"

"Take me!"

"But it's dark. You said never to go out into the woods when it's dark."

"Don't quibble, girl. Get me my wrap. I must see him. I must see him one last time."

Having all her questions quieted by her grandmother, Red made ready to go out into the night. She helped her grandmother on with her wrap and then donned her hood and cape. Her grandmother took out a lantern, lit the wick, and then they left through the door. They took the stone steps through the little garden of the cottage and, once through the gate, they were on the path; the grandmother moving with short fast strides, her breathing labored with panic.

To Persephone, the woods were completely alien at night. The trees looked so grim and twisted, the noises of night birds and other animals made it a frightful place of intermingling, indistinguishable sounds. Staying close to her grandmother's light, Persephone nearly tripped into the old woman when she stopped abruptly to listen.

Persephone heard the noise as well. Breathing, heavy, predatory.

The grandmother raised her lantern and in a defiantly loud voice, she spoke. "Show yourself!"

The breathing seamed to soften in intensity and from a bush there stepped the man, his eyes glowing in the light of the moon and the lantern.

"Ah, how nice to have visitors again, and so soon."

The grandmother raised her pistol at the wolf. "You're not who I expected."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Where is your father?"

"He's old and doesn't venture out much. You can put the gun away, you know, it's not as though I'm uncivilized."

"Stay back," the grandmother hissed. "You know it's loaded with silver."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Gretchen." The wolf walked around the circle of light caused by the lantern, stepping onto the path, and sitting casually with his two legs crossed. "But I do think you're being a bit overly dramatic. I intend to remain quite harmless."

"You spoke to the girl today."

"I did."

"You were warned not to, do you recall?"

"Aye, but she broke a rule first by straying from the path. If one rule is broken another must follow and so go the ramparts of regulation."

"Cur."

"No need to be rude. Sit, rest your old bones. It must be tiring growing old."

"Only tiring listening to you speak. I should shoot you on the spot for being presumptive."

"And so the girl." The wolf looked around the figure of the grandmother at Persephone. "Tell her how it was you who stepped off the path into my woods."

"That is irrelevant!" The grandmother cocked the pistol.

"It is not! Your bargain with my father will be null and void if you pull that trigger. Your protection will fail and you will be subject to the wrath of the pack. You and your family and the village itself, the pack will see them fall. Mark my words, they are a vengeful bunch."

The grandmother's resolve to kill the monster faltered and she uncocked the gun. "What are your terms?"

"You keep you cottage, your protection, your life. Your family remains unharmed because I don't say a single word of this to anyone."

"And in return?"

The wolf looked once again around the grandmother's stout figure at Persephone. "What do you think I should ask, Red?"

"Leave her out of this."

The wolf looked to the grandmother incredulously. "She is the one who first violated our agreement. My father made a path so that people would stick to it. So that they might enjoy nature without molesting it. As you are protective of your granddaughter, Gretchen, so are we protective of our territory."

The wolf blew some air out his nose, considering. "Very well, I will let the matter drop. No harm done and no foul. We've had an agreement for so long I see no reason to dissolve it over such a minor incident. Now you may go back to your cottage, Gretchen, taking the girl with you."

The grandmother lowered the pistol. "You're being kind. Your kind haven't been kind to me since I was a young girl. It's unnerving."

The wolf rose from the trail and stepped aside. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth, dear Gretchen."

The grandmother hid the pistol once more in the folds of her skirts and reached behind her to grab the hand of Persephone. As the two trudged quickly back down the trail to the cottage, Red couldn't help but look back. This time she saw the wolf, large, black in the darkness of the forest, his eyes still glowing in the light of the half moon. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of terror at the sight of him in that form.

~o~

That night, Persephone was sent to bed without an explanation. Though she questioned her grandmother about the wolf and her dealings with him, the grandmother eventually screamed for silence and said it was none of Persephone's affair.

"He is the devil," the grandmother said. "Once upon a time I was forced to make a deal with one of his kind. That is all you need to know about it. But you will hear me once more and for the final time, you will never stray from the path so much as an inch ever again, or the forfeit will be your very life. Do you understand me, girl?"

"But, Grandmother..."

"To your bed!"

Thus Persephone was sent to her loft to sleep on her mat of hay without a candle to light the darkness.

As she lay she listened to the sound of the wind outside the cottage and on it she imagined she could hear the baying of wolves in the distance. She closed her eyes and found herself remembering the face of the wolf on the trail. There had been nothing sinister about him, in fact she'd found herself wanting to be closer to him.

She found herself suddenly falling into a dream. The wolf in his humble clothes and she in her red cloak, walking together in the dark wood, and suddenly coming to a clearing where the bright moon shown down upon them—she turned to kiss him and his hands moved around her to pull her close, her body melding against his.

"My, what big arms you have."

She imagined him moving his mouth to kiss hers then and, when he broke the kiss, she felt him kiss along the edge of her jaw to nibble at her ear, her neck, her throat, and finally, pulling loose the knot of her cloak, he kissed her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse.

"Such a handsome wolf," she sighed in her sleep as she dreamed of him tearing away her blouse so that he could put the rough skin of his palms against her milk-white breasts. She dreamed of giving herself to him, feeling his hot breath by her ear as she felt him press up inside of her; feeling his sinewy hips thrusting between her thighs as she ran her hands over his shoulders, looking deep into his violet eyes.

~o~

The next morning Persephone rose before her grandmother, taking her basket and filling it with a bit of dried meat and cheese before donning her red cloak and leaving to walk along the path toward the village.

She came to the big oak tree at the top of the hill beyond the sight of her grandmother's cottage and there she sat on the large root and began unpacking the meat and cheese. She heard a rustling behind her and turned to find the young man standing, arms folded, looking down at her.

"After last night you dare to dawdle?"

"I'm curious, I thought perhaps I could give you breakfast in exchange for a story."

"A story?"

"Yes. I have some meat and cheese and there is a little bread left over from last night."

The wolf looked down at the girl and shrugged, taking a seat on a root beside hers and leaned back with his head resting against the trunk. "I'm not in the mood for breakfast, thank you. And as for stories, it is traditionally the grandmother warning the little girl about the wolf, this would make my story quite an anomaly."

"Why does she hate you?"

"I don't think she hates me. She loved my father once and wanted to live with him, but the pack would not accept a human so that was that. She settled for a cottage in the woods to be near him. They struck a bargain, so long as she would aid in keeping the woods safe from man, he would come to her once a year in the form of a man and he would love her. Unfortunately time passed and there was a bit of a falling out. My father took a bitch and your grandmother took a husband and the annual coupling stopped, though the bargain was made for the duration of both of their lifetimes. She keeps the cottage, she discourages travelers through our woods with her stories and in return we leave her and her family alone."

"And what of your father? What happened to him?"

"He died, some say of a broken heart."

"Did he die of a broken heart?"

"I'd wager heartworm, I am after all a realist."

"What is your name?"

"That's not part of the story."

"I can't just call you Wolf."

"Why not? It's a name. Or do you think it doesn't suit me?"

"I wouldn't know." She looked over at him. He was grinning at her as she gathered up the untouched meat and cheese. "What are you smiling at?"

"I'm thinking perhaps I do want something in return for this little story."

Persephone put the things in her basket and stood, looking down at the wolf. "What would you like?"

The wolf stood, leaning in close to her. "Pull back the hood of your cloak for me, the embroidery is done with silver thread and I'd get much more enjoyment out of kissing you without being burned."

"Kissing me?"

"Yes," he smiled; his straight, sharp teeth white and sinister looking.

"My, what big teeth you have."

"Big teeth, small teeth, all one needs to kiss are lips and as you can see I've got a pair and so have you."

"I can't trust you."

"I know, that's what makes it so enticing, Red." He leaned in closer, putting his hands behind his back.

"I won't use my hands, and you'll still have your cloak around your shoulders. I promise, just one kiss, but you have to mean it. No school girl pecks, or sloppy half-done slobbering, but a real kiss. Have you ever kissed a boy before?"

"Of course, but I never wanted to before."

"And do you want to now?"

Persephone put her basket down on the path and pulled her red hood back and away from her face. The wolf leaned in and in an instant they were kissing.

She found her hands moving up over his shoulders and she found herself wanting so badly to press in closer, to feel his body against hers. She took a step and the wolf caught her wrist, pushing her away. "Now go," he said, pointing toward the village. "You'll be missed at home."

She untied the knot that held her cape in place and it fell onto the leaves covering the trail. She leaned forward grabbing the wolf and pressing herself to him, her lips finding his again. "I don't want to go home just yet," she sighed, between kisses, as they both fell back into a scrub of tall grass beneath the old oak. "I dreamed last night," she began, but the wolf silenced her by pulling her lips back down to his, it was understood. She felt his hand move up to her blouse, ripping away her apron and bodice, tossing them away. She lifted his tattered tunic up to reveal his wiry torso, a light smattering of hair over his chest leading down to his abdomen. She ran her fingers over his flesh that seemed as beautiful as any she'd seen sculpted from stone only made finer by the fact that the flesh was warm under her hands.

"You're beautiful," she said, and let her cheek come into the palm of his hand as their eyes met.

"I have always thought the same of you," he said, drawing the hand down from her cheek, over the hollow of her throat, and down to her chest. 

"How long have you been watching me?" She asked, leaning down to kiss the wolf's chin, feeling a bit of soft stubble there.

"Since you were little," He said. "I remember your mother bringing you from the village when you were just learning to walk. And I remember your grandmother giving you that cape."

"Are you a very old wolf?"

"I'm as old as I look, the magic doesn't render us immortal." He chuckled. "You should believe everything you read in fairytales."

She found herself nuzzling his neck. "You smell of the forest," she said, smiling as she felt his hand at the waist of her petticoat, untying the ribbon that held it in place.

"You smell of cooking fires and hay," he said.

"What's going on behind my back?"

"Forgive me for being sly." He sat up, pushing her back to rest herself on his pelvis. She felt the pressure of his stiffness through the fabrics separating them. "Would you prefer I ravish you?" He smiled and tore her blouse open to reveal her soft supple breasts. "I've often lurked just out of sight, following the smell of you through the woods," he said, as he gently moved his palm over one exposed breast. "It is a human smell, but one I could never seem to get out of my mind."

"What do you think about when you smell me?"

He leaned in and gently kissed the top of her breast. "What every animal thinks about."

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't even know your name, I must know your name mustn't I!"

"Name me anything you like. I haven't got a human name." He let his tongue mover over the flesh of one nipple as he tore her petticoat away and lifted the hem of her skirt, to place his hand against her warm thigh. The bulge in his britches was larger now, and Persephone longed to grind herself against it.

"You want me to name you, then?" She moaned, feeling his hand wander up further, brushing the folds of her loins.

"Please, please, Red Riding Hood," he said, in mock pain. 

"How about Peter? That's a nice name for a wolf."

The wolf's brow unfurled from his pretended agony. He nodded. "I like it," he said, and pressed his hand up into the hot moist place between his love's legs. "Peter the Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood..."

"Enough talking," she said, moaning around her words. "Oh, Peter!"

~o~

With great speed the two lovers had shed their clothing all together, Peter taking hold of Persephone's shoulders and rolling her onto her back, running his hands along her naked form; drinking in the sight of her soft white skin with her dark areolas and trim, sweet smelling quim.

He kissed her knee and she giggled as he worked his way up playfully to feed upon her warm moist folds. He ran his long tongue along her outer lips and then flicked it gently over the little pink hood of her clit. He used his hands to part her wider so that the inner flesh was exposed to the cool air and then he kissed the touches of pink, tracing his tongue once more up to the apex of her opening, lifting up the little hood to massage the little pebble with the tip of his small finger. His gentle teasing labors caused little convulsions inside of Persephone. He was pleased to see her chest moving up and down with heavy panted breaths and soft moans.




Anitole's Red Riding Hood



Do you like the way it feels?"

"Mm-hmm," she purred.

"Then you'll love this," he said.

Persephone felt his tongue touch her clitoris and then to her amazement she felt the tongue flatten and lengthen, lapping at her folds hungrily before pressing into her little opening causing her to gasp.

Peter's hands came up underneath her bottom and he lifted her up, using his own hands to pull her onto his face so that his long wolf's tongue could penetrate her even farther.

"Oh-oooh!" She shuttered with the intensely satisfying sensation. "My," she gasped, almost to herself, "what a big tongue you have."

Though Peter had lifted her hips up off the ground slightly, Persephone's shoulders had not left the soft compost. As her lover tongued her opening fervently, the arch of her back accentuated itself along with the intensity of her moaning. Soon she was clutching her fists around handfuls of leaves, her body thinly coated in perspiration as she let out harsh exhalations and gasped screams that increased in pitch as she finally achieved the first orgasm of her young life.

She shook as the wave took hold of her, causing her muscles to tense, as her opening quivered around the long tongue of her lover. She arched her neck to look down into the violet eyes of her lover as he drank every drop of the warm fluid that came out of her. She gasped to see his face was somewhat transformed, his ears having grown pointed, his brow more fierce. Her orgasm though was so intense she didn't feel any fear, instead she loved his face for it was the face that had brought her such pleasure.

She felt his hands lowering her down on the ground as his tongue slowly withdrew after the last waves over her climax. 

He lay beside her, his face reverting back to its original beauty. "Did it frighten you?" he asked.

"A little," she said, breathlessly, looking into his eyes and rolling on top of him, letting her fingers mingle with the light hair of his chest. "But not enough to make me want to stop."

Her hand had already crept down to grip his firmness and, as she stroked, she kissed him, tasting her own juices on his lips and smelling the sweet and musky scent of her little cunny. She closed her eyes savoring the flavor of his lips mingled with her own juice and then she broke the kiss, moving her mouth slowly down to his shoulder, her fist pumping him as she suddenly bit him softly, causing him to moan with pain and pleasure at the same time.

"Ahh, Red," he sighed as she kissed the bite mark and then moved her tongue down over his body rapidly. "Ooh, yes."

She found herself face to face with his swollen member and she kissed it's tip which was purple and engorged with blood. It was so thick her fingers couldn't quite touch. She licked the stream of precum that rolled down over her thumb, and then she licked up the shaft, closing her lips around the tip of her lover's cock, looking up at him with the best vixen's glower she could muster.

She swirled her tongue around the head and squeezed his shaft with her hand. Moaning around his shaft as she slowly let her lips move down its length, opening up her mouth wide to allow it to pass over her tongue. When it hit the back of her throat she took a breath through her nose and then opened her throat wide to allow the entire length to pass. The wolf bucked slightly at this amazing feat performed by a novice. 

"You've done this before?" He asked, chidingly.

She pulled her mouth back off the organ and licked her lips before speaking gently. "I discussed it once or twice with girls in school who had."

"Well you're good at putting theory into practice."

"Thank you," She smiled, kissing the tip of his cock gingerly. "Now shut up and let me suck."

~o~

It seemed hours passed in the woods, the two lovers exploring each other under the canopy of the autumn trees, the leaves falling quietly down upon their gyrations. When the wolf entered her she squealed at the intense pressure and clawed at his flesh as he slowly let the length of his member fill her to bursting. She whimpered until the moment when she felt his balls pressed firmly against her anus and then she sighed in relief and pride. She felt the walls over her opening relaxing more to accommodate him comfortably and as he withdrew and then pushed in again, her eyes widened at the pleasurable effect.

They started slow with gentle love-making, their kisses hot and passionate and then suddenly soft and teasing. Lips would brush as they ground their loins together, little shutters and spurts causing one or the other to moan in unison with the other. When he felt her opening tightening around him in orgasm for a second time, he gripped her hair and pulled it firmly causing her head to roll back and her back to arch as she screamed from the slight pain. He bit her softly then, tasting the sweet metallic richness of her blood on his lips as the moistness of her climax drenched his cock.