Little Red (Angel & Hirondelle)
"Scarlet! You need to take these treats to your grandmother and do not walk off of the path. You are going to stay the night, because the paths are not safe at night anymore. Wolves tred after moonfall." Her mother smiled, passing a small basket to the young woman's arms. Folding in a red cloth over the food, "Do not forget your cloak. Just in case! Be safe."
Scarlet nodded to her mother, sighing, grabbing her cloak, pulling the hood over her face, her skin was covered head to toe. She wore black pants, tucked into her calf high boots, and a long sleeved tunic, fingerless gloves. The cloak covered her face enough, and she held the basket tight. Slipping a small sword into a belt on her waist. The paths were dangerous after the night falls. It was close and it would fall while she was at her grandmother's if she moved fast.
Leaving the house, she pushed the doorway open and gripped her basket tight. The trees were closely grown together, making it hard to see more than a few feet into the forest itself. The path had been cut out by lumberjacks several years ago, stone sprinkled over the ground to make sure no more trees might grow. The trees were large, towering over the pathway, the forest itself looked dark from the outside, even in broad daylight.
She had been frightened, the stories of the Wolves. They were dangerous and a single touch could ruin your life. That in and of itself frightened her. Holding onto her basket, she headed into the forest, taking a deep breath. You can do this, she thought breathing out slowly, her feet carrying herself one foot at a time towards the darkness. You have been to Grandma's house many times, you can do this.
As the path darkened and the golden sheen of noon made place to the sanguine glow of sunset, the forest transformed. Tall and venerable millennium old trees growing menacing and grotesque, the magic of night permeating the now dark forest in a subtle seduction, rabbits, innocent creature of the day leading place to cawing crows and skittish deer disappearing to leave place to glowing eyes in the dark. The song of night slowly overcame the melody of day and soon everything became quiet... too quiet, as a young woman made her way under the moonlight, approaching her destination.
That was when it happened. A bloodcurdling howl followed by a soul tearing scream pierced the night, coming from the girl's destination... For a moment, all seemed to go still, before the grotesque sound of a snarling beast feasting and tearing upon flesh could be heard, then nothing. That, too did not last, and soon the girl known as scarlet heard another howl, this one closer, and got the unshakable feeling that she should flee, mixed with the terrible dread for her life that she had held all the way from her home becoming unbearable... debilitating. The full moon shined red as the cry of a dying wolf finished it's dark symphony, accompanied by the appearance of a great beast, it's shape between human and wolf, yet neither.
Death stared with blood red eyes into the eyes of Scarlet that night.
Scarlet bit back a shriek in surprise staring at the monster in front of her. She stepped backwards, one step, as slowly as she could muster. Her knuckles turned white on the top of the basket. One of her hands trailed down to her knife at her waist, staring up at the monster. She prayed that it's vision was poor, she did not move again just watching it.
Her grandmother, she was in trouble. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she frowned. This monster -- he killed her. Scarlet could not figure out how she knew this, but she knew that he had killed her grandmother. Gripping the knife tightly, she furrowed her brow. Stop it. She thought bitterly, the more she thought about it, the more her heart pounded and the more she panicked. She had the urge to turn and run.
She couldn't run, if she ran back to her mother, they were both in danger. If she ran to her grandmother, she was most likely dead. Scarlet could only stand there. Looking up at the monster, gripping the basket in one hand and the hilt of her knife in the other. She trembled but adrenaline pumped through her veins.