Hunted by Wolves and Shadow: A Red Riding Hood Fairy Tale Romance

1. Emi

All my life, people had called Aglonbriar forest cursed. Silly rumors, stories to scare children, nothing more—yet today, I almost believed it.

The woods had never looked so menacing. Mist rolled in thick banks between black trunks that disappeared into the hovering shroud. Our amber sky often looked vaguely apocalyptic, but I’d never known the air to feel so thick and obtrusive. Tucking a loose strand of my long, red hair behind my ear, I peered into shadows that loomed deeper and darker than ever, the trees themselves seeming to thrum with danger. Maybe visiting Grandma Ruby could wait another day.

My trek from our bakery across the streets of Baines Upon Bracken Ridge had brought me to the edge of the dark and vast woods that divided Anterra into two halves. I’d walked this path to Grandma’s house plenty of times, but this time my feet rooted themselves to the ground and refused to carry me further. It was stupid. I hadn’t been scared of the forest in annums.

Unfortunately, I stalled too long. There was a good reason I’d hurried through the gloom with my head down, avoiding notice with my basket tucked tight at my elbow. The heavy pall of the Mist made the meagre light even dimmer than usual, keeping people indoors, so I’d nearly escaped without encountering any of the townsfolk. But my luck had run out.

“What’s the matter, witch spawn? Afraid of the dark, dank places where you belong?” The voice scraped rusty nails down my already fraught nerves. It belonged to Nolan Blueheart, a lily-livered wart-head of the worst order with whom I’d had the great misfortune of sharing my schooling years. I preferred to think of him by his well-earned nickname of Nosy Blowhard.

I breathed deep through my nose. Being called witch or witch spawn was nothing new; it warranted no response. Baines Upon Bracken Ridge had a name longer than its main street, so everybody knew everyone else. Our population had declined even more after the Mist arrived when I was an infant, over a score ago now. The dim cast of it had only spread in the annums since. There wasn’t much left to sustain the stubborn residents of Baines save for gossip.

One thing upon which Baines was united was that I was nothing more than Jade’s tiresome younger sister, Emi Brightbane, the red-headed waste of space. I’d never figured out what I’d done to earn such disdain.

Jade was beloved. The same people who called me witch spawn would prostrate themselves for my sister. She was my opposite in every way. Blonde hair to my dark red. Curvy waisted to my tall frame. Confident to my awkward. People had always adored Jade, while turning their noses up at me.

Most ignored me, save to buy my baked goods at our market stall, but a few made an exception solely to call me horrible names. Nolan was one of those.

“Go on, filthy witch. Maybe one of the beasts will actually want you…”—Nolan paused for dramatic effect—”for dinner!”

His cronies laughed predictably.

I caught the eye of one of Nolan’s lackeys. It was no surprise when Tanner dropped his gaze to his cowardly toes. I’d made the mistake of thinking he liked me once upon a time, but ever since our one night together, he’d gone back to ignoring me, letting his pals taunt me even if he didn’t join in. I had long ago given up on finding companionship in Baines.

My clammy hands tightened their grip on the basket, and I uprooted my left foot. There was no point standing around listening to more of Nosy Blowhard’s poisonous word-vomit.

No matter how scary, the woods were better.

“There she goes, lads. Say goodbye to Phlegmy. I hope the monsters of Aglonbriar enjoy the taste of rotten witch!” he called, laughing his stupid barking laugh.

The juvenile play on my name grated as always, so I comforted myself with a lovely vision of one of the rumored beasts launching out of the woods and taking a chomp out of Blowhard’s head. It warmed me for a few heartbeats.

Before long, though, I ran out of idle daydreams.

The walk to Grandma Ruby”s house was always eerie, but I usually felt safe enough on the path. This time my breath fisted tight in my chest.

I couldn’t put my finger on the feeling, just a crawling unease and something…different. It nearly made me turn and run back the way I’d come. If I hadn’t spent all morning baking these muffins and biscuits, and if I hadn’t been so eager to avoid Nolan, I might have done exactly that.

Instead, I took a cleansing breath and continued. There was nothing more welcoming for me back home anyway. Jade would be out, and as far as my father went, I wouldn’t find any fondness there either. He favored Jade like everyone else, and mostly forgot I existed. Always at the lumber mill where he kept the accounts or holed up in his home office, he barely noticed me. So I kept planting one foot in front of the other like I always did. At least Grandma Ruby might have a word of thanks when she saw the cornbread biscuits I baked special for her. That would be enough to chase this chill from my chest.

Thick foliage of broad, dark leaves competed for every bit of feeble light, casting deep shadows of their own. Aglonbriar forest was far from welcoming on its best day, but then, I was used to being unwelcome.

In the distance, a plaintive howl pierced the woods, lifting the hairs at the back of my neck. It sounded far off, but I squeezed my hand tight around the handle of my basket and walked faster. Not even a delicious waft of warm blueberry muffins could stop me from shivering when the forest bore this unnatural chill.

As if accepting an unspoken challenge to get even spookier, a shadow darkened the dim sky with a whomp whomp of huge wings. Sunbeams, what bird had a wingspan like that?

I ducked my head in my green hood, camouflaging my face and red hair as the enormous bird passed. Why couldn’t Grandma’s cottage be closer to Baines? And why wasn’t the path clear as it usually was?

Thick white rolls of Mist encroached on my sense of safety. Wispy tendrils batted at my ankles like mischievous felines, and I fought an urge to dance away from their cool touch.

“Nothing to worry about,” I muttered. “Quit being silly.”

The whispered warnings of how the Mist claimed people had scared me when I was younger. But I had confessed my fears once to Grandma Ruby who had told me in her brusque tone, “You have nothing to worry about, Emi. Those people are fools, fearful of their own ignorance, but the Mist can’t hurt you. See?” Then she’d stalked to the edge of her clearing and let a thick tendril of it curl around her arm. She even stroked it fondly like a pet cat curled up in her embrace, making me giggle.

When I was older, she had given me my green cloak with a deep hood just like the bright red one she wore, assuring me it would hide me from any lurking beasts. I had felt safe ever since. Now, I pulled the edges tight around my waist, clutching my basket to my stomach as I scanned the shadows.

A few dancing spots drew my attention, sending a jolt of panic when I thought I saw eyes. Blue skies, I was unnerved today. They were just fireflies. Although, fireflies active at midday…that was odd.

I didn’t like the sensation creeping between my shoulder blades like creatures watched from beyond the veil of shadowy fog. I was letting those over-embellished stories about the so-called curse of Aglonbriar get to me. As if a bit of Mist could render a person insane, or turn men into monsters who roamed the forest in search of human flesh. It was preposterous.

I knew better.

I did.

My heart pounded anyway. But I had my cloak to keep me safe, I knew to stick to the path where the Mist cleared. Rather…it usually cleared. Tendrils of Mist touched me now, but I was perfectly fine. Everything was fine.

I hurried faster.

Grandma Ruby’s stone cottage was nestled deep in the woods in a cute little clearing that the Mist never seemed to touch. All this silly fear would be worth it when I reached her door. We’d share warm biscuits by her fireplace and my grandmother would listen to my complaints about selfish Jade and our inattentive father, and she’d pat my knee with a, “Buck up, Emi. You don’t need them anyway.”

Some days, I swore I would make this trip through fire and brimstone if that was what it took to get that warm touch and a supportive word.

A hair-raising roar made me jump. Was that closer than before? Chilly fingers of Mist stroked my ankles as I scurried. What I wouldn’t give to hear Grandma’s encouragement right now.

A loud snuffle and snort sounded off to my left, and my heart broke into a gallop. Why did Grandma live in this lonely place? While I longed for company—for affection and attention—Grandma Ruby chose isolation. A choice I was very much struggling to understand while nameless fear knotted in my lungs.

A growl echoed too close for comfort, and a shriek spilled out of me. My pulse took off, and I decided it had the right idea. Enough was enough.

Branches snapped when I broke into a run.

There was something behind me. Something big!

I wheeled.

A terrifyingly large shadow broke free from the pools of dark, sending waves of white fog rolling ahead of its hulking shape. All I saw was a flash of matted fur before I was gone, spinning forward into a dead sprint. Blood rushed from my head. The basket swung wildly from my pumping arm.

Heart pounding, I didn’t dare pause long enough to look back, but the thud of enormous paws told me all I needed to know. It was catching up.

A muffin bounced free and tumbled from the basket to the sound of a snarl at my heels. There was a terrifying snap of teeth.

I was close to Grandma’s clearing. Almost there.

I nearly went sprawling over a root that emerged from the Mist, barely leaping it in time. I couldn’t resist any longer. I glanced over my shoulder and, sweet sunbeams!

I screamed.

The beast behind me rose past my waist. It was huge—all dark mangy fur and long gangly legs. And teeth. So many teeth in that creepy, elongated head.

Whatever that thing was, I was dead if it got that jaw around me. I nearly choked on fear. In a panic, I swung the basket as hard as I could behind me while my legs kept pumping away. Baked goods scattered in a soaring arc down the path behind me, bouncing into the trees.

Before me, the quaint cottage materialized through the gloom not a heartbeat too soon. Its diamond paned front window made a most inviting square of yellow light in the river stone walls.

“Open up!” I yelled ahead.

My heart galloped into my ribs. I could barely take in air. The cottage was a beckoning refuge, teasing me with its nearness. Wildly hoping to trip up the nightmare chasing me, I hurled the entire basket behind me and dashed through the small gap in the stone wall surrounding Grandma’s garden.

Flinging myself against the solid wood door, I hammered on it. “Let me in!”

The door swung inward in a rush, and I tumbled through, running smack into a solid warm mass. Inside, the cottage was bright and familiar. Relief poured through me, my legs trembling.

“Close it!” I gasped.

Only the reassuring thunk of the door and the following hush of safety made me finally register that the big broad chest I was clinging to wasn’t the person I expected.

Stepping back, I found myself staring at a figure that most certainly was not my Grandma Ruby. Not unless she had grown in stature, developed mouthwatering muscles, transformed her grey hair into a warm shade of coppery-brown, and reshaped her face into one that was strikingly handsome and notably free of wrinkles.

Oh, and turned into a man.