Page 79 of Little Red Riding Hood
Cackling, the Shadow rose, pulling his brocade coat tight around him.
“Are you off to tell the Queen?” Red shouted it in a tone to suggest he didn’t care, when in fact, he did very much. He quite liked his head on his neck.
Instead of answering, the Queen’s Shadow’s form twisted, stretching like ink dropped in water, before dissolving into wisps of black smoke that curled into nothingness. An acrid scent lingered in the air.
Red’s fingers trembled as he dressed and gathered his belongings. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and sweat beaded across his brow despite the morning chill. What the fuck was Wim doing with that arrow? He needed to find him, immediately.
“Wim?” he called out, though barely above a whisper. No response, only the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant call of a dove.
Which way would he have gone? Red spun in place, scanning the forest floor. The dense canopy above cast dappled shadows that played tricks with his vision, making every root and hollow look like a possible trail.
Wait—there. A broken branch lay across a patch of disturbed earth, its fresh splinters catching the weak morning light. Red traced the direction with his eyes, noting more subtle signs: a displaced stone, bent grass, the faintest impression of what could be a large footprint.
He picked his way through the undergrowth, following these tentative clues. The forest grew denser, branches snagging at his cloak, roots threatening to trip him with every step.
Clang.
Red froze. The sound rang out again—metal striking something, like a hammer on an anvil. But that was impossible. They were miles from any settlement.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The rhythm was steady, methodical. Red crept forward, ducking under a low-hanging branch. The sound grew louder with each step, more aggressive, as if the striker were getting angrier.
Then he saw it.
Wim crouched beside a massive, flat boulder, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he gripped the golden arrow in white-knuckled hands. His face contorted with desperation, jaw clenched. The arrow’s shaft glinted as it struck stone again and again, each impact sending shards of light dancing across the forest floor.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Red’s fingers moved of their own accord, nocking an arrow to his bow. The string drew taut with a familiar creak.
“Stop!”
Wim’s head snapped up, eyes wild and feral. The golden arrow hung suspended in his grasp, caught mid-strike.
“You fucking traitor.” While Red’s arms shook with rage, his aim remained steady. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Get close to me, make me trust you, then destroy the Queen’s arrow?”
“Red—”
“Shut up! I trusted you.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. “I let you in, I…” His throat closed around the rest of that sentence. “And the whole time you were working against me.”
Wim’s expression shifted from shock to something darker, more dangerous. His fingers tightened around the golden arrow.
“Put it down.” Red pulled the bowstring back further, arrow tip aimed at Wim’s chest. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
Wim let out a guttural shout that echoed through the trees, hurling the golden arrow at the ground. It struck the earth with such force that it bounced, rolling to a stop between them. Red’s fingers remained locked on his bowstring, arrow still trained on Wim.
“I should shoot you anyway,” Red spat, vision blurring with unshed tears. His chest constricted, making each breath a battle. “For treason. Don’t you—” He swallowed hard, fighting to steady himself. “Don’t youwantthe famine to end?” The betrayal crashed over him in waves, each one threatening to drag him under. His next words came out as a broken whisper. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Easy now, sweetheart,” Wim’s tone was gentle, hands lifting slowly. “Put the bow down and let me tell you everything.”
“No!” The word tore from Red’s throat, raw and desperate. “Answer me, goddamn you!”
“Use that clever head of yours!” Wim’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “If all I wanted was to destroy your precious arrow, don’t you think I’d have done it already? Could have taken it that first night and vanished into the woods, couldn’t I?”
Red’s arms trembled from holding the bow taut, but he refused to lower it. His eyes narrowed. “You told me that you like to play with your food. Clearly, you decided to take that to a whole new level.”
Red’s arms shook as Wim advanced, each step bringing him closer. The bow wobbled, his grip slipping with sweat. “Stay back!” The words ripped from his throat, desperate and raw.
