Little Red Riding Hood Romance

Little Red Riding Hood Romance

Part 1 - Spring

Our small community of Forest Creek was more a collection of widely scattered wooden cabins in the deep of the endless forest, each more or less than a mile apart, than a town. Each home had land for all manner of livestock, cows, sheep, pigs and poultry, and land for growing food. Faint paths that were overgrown with foliage in the summer connected each cabin, and there was one little bridge made from faded pine wood that jumped over the tiny river that divided the town. It was just a trickle of moisture in the hottest months.

Summer was my favourite season, when the sweetest smells were no longer smothered by rain or snow, the smell of grass and flowers, when you could see all the animals of the woods. The timid doe's and their babies would come right up to the house at night; I could see them just on the other side of my glass window, nibbling at the grass that grew greenest that side of the house. It was also good because these were the months when I could hang up my thick brown jacket and wear my favourite little red cape with a hood; my grandmother had made it for me one birthday a few years ago. It was good because it was light enough to keep me cool and the hood provided good shade from the bright sunlight, keeping my fair skin cream. My mother found it easy to change the size to refit me every year.

My next favourite time of the year was autumn, because that was when the trees stole the colour of the sun, and when they were heavy with all my favourite fruit that flavoured the air with apples and strangely, yet pleasantly, cinnamon. All the vegetables would have grown and been gathered into the kitchen, ready for the dark shadow of winter. My strong and safe father would have a large, comforting pile of fresh logs for our fire, stacked just outside the door.

Winter was an ominous cloud that loomed closer with every passing week, each and every year. It was when the animals and birds went away and hid, when the leaves fall to the ground and disappear, and everything I loved most is taken away from me, smells, fruits and flowers. Winter was when you could freeze just by standing outside alone, when the snow would blanket everything and could trap you in your own home. It was when I would have to put on my brown coat and fold my red cape away in my draw because it couldn't keep me warm from the cold.

The darkest, coldest and most dangerous season, was also the most frightening season. In the never ending forest, the most dangerous animals were bears, panthers, mountain lions, and then wolves. Bears went into hibernation during the winter and the large cats were rarely seen in those months, the only real trouble you could have during this time was protecting our animals from the hungry wolves. But what was just a friendly 'fire side story' to most communities, was believed true by most of the adults in our little, vulnerable town.

In the deepest months of winter, a monster was thought to stalk the trees, a monster shrouded with mystery that would devour you if you strayed too far away from your home. A beast that was neither a wolf nor a man, one that only visited in the deadest months and then vanished once the sun came back. I had never seen it, but it had been described to me many times in my life. A wolf that walked on its hind legs, with claws as sharp as butcher knives and teeth as long as a hand, with fur as coarse as straw and white as snow, so you would never see it until it was upon you, and then you would never be seen again. My mother did not believe the stories, they were just fairy tales to her, used to frighten children, she would say to me that the disappearances of a few children years ago when she was a child younger than me now, were nothing more than rouge bears or hungry wolves. My father did not know whether to believe it or not, but he did not want to risk me being taken away, so he wouldn't let me out alone in the snow without him and his axe, at least there were ravenous bears and wolves to worry about, if not a mythical nightmare.

Only a few of the elders and my grandmother really believed in the creature, but my grandmother was not afraid. She would say in her soft voice that a monster would never want to eat her, frail and wrinkle- skinned as she was, but she would instruct my father every year to keep the door locked at night and to never let me out unaccompanied by an adult.
Even though I had never seen it, the idea of the beast had always frightened me, and I always kept my curtains drawn and a stout stick under my bed lest it try to take my in the night. But my father's axe above the door promised safety and security.

The winter before my sixteenth birthday, my neighbours complained more than usual about large number of their sheep being taken by wolves, only none had been seen near us. The elders instantly blamed the monster, but my mother said that if wolves didn't want to be seen, they wouldn't be seen. The only thing that surprised my parents was that none of our animals had been taken over the long winter months, not even a single chicken. The panic was over come spring because that was when the beast went away.

My birthday was in late spring, the door way before summer. I was almost more eager for summer than for my birthday most years. But this year my father went away for a number of days before my birthday to market, and I was so excited by the prospect of a surprise gift, summer was forgotten entirely. My mother cleaned the house and made little cakes and biscuits with my aid, and sent me to bed early every night so I would not stay up late worrying about father, and so she could prepare my other presents.

I awoke on my birthday morning with the hot sun shining on my face and the sound of my mother and father talking quietly by the fire. I smiled and jumped from by warm bed, quickly climbing silently down the ladder that lead up to my room. My parents looked up and smiled warmly at me, my mother's dark brown hair I had inherited from her was fastened in a neat bun above her neck, and my father's wild curly hair was left loose. I threw myself into his waiting arms, he must have crept back home during the early morning whilst it was still dark.

On his way back from market, he had collected gifts from relatives that lived far away from us, from aunts, uncles and cousins I received a lovely basket that still smelled fresh of pine, a quilt made from squares of softly coloured wool, a little necklace made from string and pretty beads, and a pair of newly made socks, made from the fur of a lamb my father told me. My mother gave me a new dress she had promised to me, it was yellow gold and hung by my slender ankles. It smelled of my mother, she had made it while I slept late at night. It was more elegant, more lady-like than my other dresses, now that I was sixteen. And then my father revealed the present he had gone all the way to market for. It was a red cape, an exact mirror image of my old one, except it was less worn and there were no stitch marks where my mother had lengthened it. It was beautiful and oh so new. I could smell roses on it and lavender too. It fit comfortably with space to grow. I thanked my parents appreciatively, especially my father. The cape reminded me of summer again, the months when I could run free and enjoy the colours and smells and freedom.

My mother told me that my grandmother, who was ill with a cold, had a gift for me and I should go see her with some of the treats we'd made over the days. I nodded obediently and help her fill my new basket with the cakes, then went upstairs to get changed into my new dress for my grandmother to see. I swept on the red cloak and pulled the hood up. My mother warned me as usual to be safe and not talk to strangers, and she told me I must not get the new dress dirty on pain of death. I waved goodbye and set off.

The trail that leads to my grandmother's cottage started behind our cabin, I went around the outside of our little forest home and followed the path into the trees. As it was spring the ground was still soft with rain and the grass still damp, so I had to walk with my new dress pulled up.
The smell of the wet almost blocked out my favourite scents, but I could smell the bluebells and the few leftover daffodils. The world around me was entirely green, and filled with the sound of early morning birds. I even glimpsed a deer or two before they fled and a little cotton tailed rabbit, its tail bobbing as it bolted away into the under growth.

After about ten minutes following the fern covered path, the trees disappeared and I found myself in the large meadow that stretched across the walk to my grandmother's home. The trail vanishes bellow the long grass and the tallest white flowers and bluebells. Looking at the flowers I realised that my grandmother would love some flowers as well as if not more than the cakes. I was given my love of the outdoors from her, all though I was better at withstanding the colds and hay fevers that came with it than her in her frail form. I stopped in the middle where the flowers grew most beautifully because they got the most sun during the day, and began picking the most striking flowers. I'd given up on keeping the dress dry, so I just had to concentrate on not getting any grass or mud stains on it. I could feel the wet or morning dew seeping through my summer shoes and my dress clung damply to my petite legs, soaked. The smells of the flowers now I was out of the trees intoxicated me, and I breathed deeply as I collected a good handful of the meadow.

I had just about finished, listening to a woodpecker busily thrumming into a tree close by I stood up and straightened my dress. I heard a small twig snap behind me so I spun around, expecting to see a deer turning tail away from me. I fell back into the grass in shock.
A young man stood above me, smiling down at me in the grass.
"Hello" he said pleasantly. His voice was slightly rough, but it chimed around the glade like a bell had just been struck.
I stared back wide eyed as he held a hand out to help me up off the ground. Once I stood erect before him I quickly checked my dress over for grass stains and straightened myself, pulling my hood up. There were no grass stains to be seen, but I was not willing to check my behind where I had landed in front of a stranger, and even less prepared to ask him to look for me.
"I'm sorry I upset you, I did not mean to sneak up upon you," his voice rang out again. I looked up from my feet to his face, and realised he could not be many years older than me now. He had pale skin like me, but it was more worn, almost like he had been on a long journey. His hair, oddly, was white like sheep's wool, and although it was straight as it hung around his eyes it appeared more animalistic than normal human hair, like if I touched it, it would feel like lamb's wool. But the strangest thing about him was his eyes. They were bright yellow, the colour of my grandmother's old black cat's eyes, and they stared into me, willing me to say something.
"Don't be," I almost squeaked, "I should have paid attention to what was around me, I was lost in the smell of the flowers"
His smile widened and although he didn't show his teeth, the boy looked blissfully happy. It made me smile too.

"My name is Luke," he continued, "What's your name?"
I answered the question quickly, "Rose".
"Like your red riding hood" he pointed out, sounding pleased with himself. I'd never thought of it as a riding hood, but I supposed it was, so I nodded.
"May I ask why you are out in the forest alone?"
"It's my birthday, but my grandmother is too sick to visit, so I am going to her with some cakes," I lifted the basket at my side slightly.
"That's kind of you on your own birthday, but aren't you afraid of the monster that is said to prowl around here?"
I was surprised the stranger new that some people in our town believed in the monster, and even more surprised that he did not know it only comes during the deep or winter.
"No, it only comes during the winter and goes away before spring, and I have never seen it so I am not afraid".
"Still, would you like me to escort you to your grandmother's home safely?" He offered thoughtfully.
I shook my head, "No thank you, my mother told me not to talk to strangers, so I should be going now".
Luke nodded, understanding. I felt that was kind of him, not wanting to get me in trouble with my parents.
"I hope then, that I might see you again soon," He held out his hand in a formal gesture of farewell. I took it, noticing that his nails were rather long and pointed for a man, even as young as he was.

When we parted I realised forlornly that I had indeed already broken both of my mother's conditions, I had spoken to a stranger, and almost certainly had grass stains on my dress somewhere. I blushed as I realised Luke could possibly see them as I walked away from him. I was glad my hood hid my now bright red with embarrassment ears. I laughed then and in my mind called myself 'little red riding hood'.

I tried to justify my crimes as I continued on, on the basis that I did not actually know yet whether or not I had ruined my new dress and that Luke was no longer a stranger to me as I knew his name now.  And he had been so friendly and polite he could hardly be a danger to me, and he had even offered to guard me through my journey. I was convinced, I had done nothing wrong.
But I worried that when she saw the wet and possibly grass stained dress my grandmother will be unimpressed or even unhappy with me.
My face burned with shame as I reached the cottage. I wondered if I should tell her about my meeting a new friend, but I decided against it as she would only be more disappointed with me.

Grandmother's cottage was made from light, sand coloured bricks and a thatched roof, the window frames were cream, and the front door was a worn yellow, the colour of the sun, the colour of summer. I let myself in as she could not answer herself and she always left it unlocked, she told me once, "What do I have worth having stolen by thieves?"
I wandered over to her bed room door, calling out "Grandmother, grandmother it's me, Rose"  
She answered as I opened the door, I could hear that her throat was sore because of the chill.
"Oh Rose my dear! I'm so happy you came to see me, Happy Birthday dear, oops, don't get to close to me, I don't want you catching what I have," I stood back, humouring her because I knew I would not catch it. I looked at her, her skin, which was usually a warm colour like her sons, my father, was now pale, and her soft snowy curls were hidden with a frilly nightcap. She wore her small spectacles over her powder blue eyes which I had inherited from her and father. The covers were pulled right up to her neck, protecting her from the cold.

I sat down in the armchair that was place beside her little bed. I smiled and commented "Grandmother, your skin is so pale" my voice sounded worried.
"I am sick child, but it is nothing, I will get better to see summer again once more," she said this every time she caught a spring cold. I remembered then that I had the flowers, and I held them out to her. She smelled them appreciatively, sighed happily, and fell back into her pillow.
"Ah thank you child, you always pick the best ones for me, place them on the little table there, yes, just by my book. I did as she asked, and then it was her turn to study me.
"I see you have a new hood"
"Yes, it was a gift from father. It's just like the one you made for me accept it is new. I thought you would like to see it as clean as the day you gave it to me"
"It is lovely, and it was right of my son to give you this, the old one is much too tattered for a young lady of your age now".
"But without it I would never have this new one" I defended. "I will keep it clean and give it to my daughter once I am married".
She nodded to this, looking pleased. "Ah Rose, all this talk has made me weary, I think I shall shut my eyes, just for a while. Go and light the fire for me dear, I don't want you catching what I have". She settled down into her covers and shut her eyes. I smiled at her peaceful face and left the room quietly, slowly closing the door behind me.

Grandmother's fireplace was set in the wall with pretty red pink tiles around it. I went outside to collect a few wood logs, and then lit them in the place with the tinder box she always kept on the sill above the fire. I dried my dress and my feet by the fire, nibbling on a cake as I waited. The little cuckoo clock my father had made by the window told me when I had waited an entire hour. I got up bare foot and padded over to her door to wake her. I knocked three times but there was no reply. I crept into the room, shuddering at the icy air. I suddenly expected the worst.

Grandmother was lying in her bed, still the same as when I had left her, but she was paler, much paler. I walked quickly over to her arm and held her hand. It was as cold and stiff as stone. She was gone.
I kneeled by the bed, sniffing back a few tears, wondering why I was not sadder. Probably because we had all been expecting it, or maybe because I knew she had gone happily. That reminded me that she had not tried my birthday cakes, which made me sadder, then I realised she would never see summer again,  which made me sadder, and the last flowers she had ever seen where spring flowers, not summer, our shared favourite, this made me sadder. I wondered whether she had noticed my new dress. I decided to pray that wherever she was now it would be summer there too.

I kissed her hand and left the room, shutting the door behind me. The fire was still roaring so I put it out with a damp cloth and collected my shoes to put on. I gathered my things, took her key from a pot and locked the front door behind me too. I did not want animals to come in or thieves to even think about stealing from her old cottage, it would be desecration.  I held back a few tears as I tucked the key into a pocket sewn inside the cape. I felt sad because it did not smell of grandmother, it only smelt of new.

I looked up and saw Luke standing on the path, smiling at me. The surprise was too much for my emotions, and the tear I held back escaped without warning, trickling down my cheek. His eyes flew wide, horror struck he stepped quickly towards me, hands outstretched. "What's wrong?" he asked, taking my cold hands in his warm hands. His sweet face crumpled anxiously.
"My grandmother has died"
Luke breathed out, almost like he had been expecting worse. "I'm so sorry, that must have been awful, can I do anything for you?"
He pulled me into his firm embrace when I failed to reply. I felt oddly comfortable with this man I could only describe still as a complete stranger, comforted by his steady breathing and heart beat. Luke smelled of the trees, of the ground and of the earth. It was nice, but tainted with the scent of winter, I could smell the tang of snow on him even as he warmed me. I pulled away, calmer now.
"Thank you, I should really go home now to tell my parents"
"I'll go with you" He wasn't asking this time, his voice assertive, and what could I say? I was weak with distress and needed the company. He offered me his arm to lean on and I took it gratefully. We walked slowly and silently along the forest trail. The woods had changed, they seemed darker, I saw no animals nor heard any birds. Perhaps it was because they sensed my loss, but it was almost like they were afraid of something, like a storm, but it was much too early in the year for that kind of weather.

Unfortunately, once we reached the meadow, seeing the flowers I had picked for her was too much for my grief, it felt like winter had come early, and my legs gave way below me. But Luke caught me in his arms before I could fall too far, he lifted me of the ground, and I hung limply for a few moments in his cradle hold. My head spun sickeningly so I closed my eyes and rested by head on his broad chest.
"Rose," he asked fretfully, "are you well?" His voice seemed to chime again now we were in the meadow again, echoing in the trees; they seemed to shiver around him.
I nodded carefully, relaxed in his arms as he held me close, and he stepped forward to cross the clearing. He walked so silently that the sound of the grass whooshing around his legs was reassuring.

Once I could feel the trees shading my eyes from the weak sunlight I opened my eyes. The smell and colour of the wood assailed me suddenly, pine trees especially, and the smell of new life. But no life moved, or even breathed, it was too still, like winter. There was nothing else.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I came too, we were standing just under the tree line, facing my little forest cabin. Or rather Luke was standing; I was still rested in his untiring arms. I looked up at his yellow eyes as they gazed down at me, a mixture of worry and awe burned in them, like a candle. He smiled, just lifting his cheeks, and set me on my feet.  The grass was still damp and I accidently crushed a few young snowdrops in my successful attempt to steady myself.  I looked up as he quickly took several steps backwards without warning. I must have looked confused, so he spoke. "We wouldn't want your mother or father to see me with you now, would we?" His voice was muffled by the shade that flickered around him. "Thank you for bringing me home" I told him appreciatively. He dipped his head politely.

"You should go in now, I have to go" His smile widened into a grin just before he stepped out of sight into the haze of tree's, and I caught a glimpse of something he had hidden from me. His canines were elongated and appeared rather wolf like.  His eyes flickered like a candle flame as I turned and walked away.

Luke

I watched the girl enter her house from the forest, hidden in the darkness.

While I had carried her home, the red hood she seemed to love, fell back over her ears, revealing her soft brown hair. Her smell washed over me, fascinating me. She smelt like everything you should smell in summer, but her skin and frail body was winter, as were her frosty blue eyes.
She was the first girl I had spoken to talk to in years, I wondered why that was. Maybe it was because she didn't seem to mind my oddities, my white hair or my yellow eyes or my sharp nails. She'd only been taken back by my teeth when I showed them to her. That had hurt, but it didn't surprise me. At least she hadn't run away when I introduced myself to her in the meadow.
What had intrigued me was when she told me she wasn't afraid of the winter monster.
She wasn't afraid of me.