Red

Coward

I am a filthy coward. Leaving Grandmother for death by Wolf in the house while the Woodcutter tore down the house.

Everything that Grandfather and Grandmother worked for. The house. The things inside. My mother. My father. My sister and brother.

All gone. The Wolf got them all. The village. Everything.

And then the Woodcutter ravaged the women in the safe house and pillaged everything. He watched as it burned to the ground with his tame-wild Wolf.

The women of the house were not only ravaged by the Woodcutter, but by the Wolf, too.

I am the only survivor of their massacre. I escaped because I strayed from the path after leaving Grandmother's. Hid high in the tree on the edge of the clearing where not even the Wolf could catch my scent.

I live in the trees now. Like in the books I stole from the scholars that traveled around, I ran in the creek, where my scent was lost. I ran to the last village they visited, if they came from the East. I took whatever I could, which was nothing but a lost soul's gold locket buried in the ashes.

I traded my red cloak for a green, I smeared dirt and ash to hide my pale skin, built a twisted structure in the highest branches, and hid.

Hunted birds. Sun-baked meat. I could not risk smoke from a fire.

I was more animal than human when they returned.

"Wolf, is this not the best place to settle? Travelers frequent this place for they have not heard word of our kills, and there is plenty of natural resources to fulfill the body's needs, and the magical women creatures will fulfill the dark pleasures." The Woodcutter said to the Wolf as they stopped in the middle of the clearing and the Woodcutter set up camp.

I breathed through my mouth from my perch in the trees, glad that I had no meat on me, for the Wolf would surely smell it's blood and investigate.

The guilt of my run rushed upon me, the fear and grief of what had happened turned into anger at the ones who did it: The Woodcutter and the Wolf.

I glared at their forms as they set up camp.

I silently pulled an arrow from my makeshift quiver. Father had always made me carry a dagger with me; it paid off. I had pounced on a deer and cut it open, taking everything it had. Its fur became a blanket, its hooves small cups, the long, stringy intestines my bowstrings, its large antlers and bones food utensils, its meat my food and the guts bait for my prey.

The birds fell from my dagger as I took their feathers and everything else. The forest supplied, and the nymphs did not cross me. The mermaids feared me as I drank from their clear waterfall.

I am the predator, and this is my territory.

I placed the arrow to the bow and aligned the arrow to the Woodcutter's heart. The fool was not wearing any sort of protection against weapons. I eyed the large axe by his side greedily. The Wolf could not climb trees, no matter how large it grew, even if it grew past its triple size of the average wolf.

I released the taught bowstring and grinned as the arrow flew through its target, the heart detached from the body and hugging the arrow.

Strange. Not normal behavior for a human body.

The body that had fallen to the ground rose and stood. And laughed. Heartily. The Woodcutter pressed a hand to where his heart would be. "Oh, that was clever! Now, come out from there and do tell me your name."

He glanced around the edges of the clearing.

Demon. Demon, demon, demon.

Magic and undying. Immortal.

The Wolf, not an abnormal wolf, but a fenrir.

I did not move, I dared not to breathe.

I saw his eyes narrow and his face turn red, like my old cloak, in rage. "Wolf!"

The Wolf darted away from him and began his search, the Woodcutter pulling the axe from his belt loop and peered at the trees again. His eyes flashed a fiery red for a moment and he smiled a wide, chilling smile.

He pointed to my perch.

I looked down and through the branches.

The Wolf caught my eyes with it's own and changed.

It's head shrunk and its arms lengthened, until it became a naked young man with the darkest features.

He smiled, and I felt all common sense leave me.

I was cold and warm. Oh, he was so handsome! What is this coldness? It feels like a river in winter, and I feel afraid. I don't want to move; hurray, he's getting closer!

RUN, RED, RUN!

The necklace burned my skin as I realized what was happening.

A fenrir-werewolf crossbreed was climbing up the tree on it's hardest hunt.

I didn't have time to shoot, I realized.

I fled.

Across the trees as the Woodcutter's cruel, booming laugh echoed through the dead clearing, the Wolf's a happy, youthful laugh that I almost stopped for, but the necklace burned against my chest.

I panted heavily as I leaped to the next tree, throwing the bow over my shoulder and across my chest as I pulled my dagger from its sheath.

I risked a quick look back at the Wolf. He was not used to the human form, he had crashed into the tree and an angry nymph was attacking him, covering him with twisted bark. I leaped again, I was now underneath my house, but almost fell as the tree shook. I glanced down and saw the Woodcutter had almost chopping down the tall pine.

I leaped for the farthest tree I could reach towards the mermaids' waterfall.

It was not to be.

The Wolf tackled me from behind and we tumbled through the branches and to the ground.

I sobbed as a sickening crack resounded from my arm and pain blossomed from the wound. The Wolf landed in a roll and pulled me out of the way as the tree fell where I had just broken my arm.

I found myself wishing I had been crushed by what had been my home for the past month.

The Wolf pulled me into his lap, grinning, and set the bone in my arm.

The Woodcutter grinned at my sobbing form and let a hand caress my face before the Wolf slapped it away. "Mine," he growled. I shivered. A voice not human, far too guttural and animal.

The Woodcutter grinned at the Wolf. "So you've finally chosen. She's too young for my liking, anyways."

I saw the Wolf grin at me through my tears. I felt warm and fuzzy, and the necklace did not burn me.

I wish the tree had crushed me. I was not the predator anymore.

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Note: There may or may not be a sequel.