Little Red's Riding

Getting Wet in the River

Dahlia's feet had begun to ache when she sat down beside a stream and slipped off her boots, leaving them beside her already discarded red cloak. They were black leather and reached nearly to her knees, but she hadn't walked this far since the beginning of spring and it was almost midsummer. She wore long white stockings beneath them, made of fine white cotton, and she removed those as well so that she could dip her toes in the stream and feel the cool water beneath her feet.

Glancing back she made her sure her basket was still safely beside her shoes as she waded into the water, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her that she really should be on her way. A girl of eighteen really had no place being alone in the woods, much less lingering in them in any one place.

She hitched up her skirt higher so that not a drop of water would splash on the red fabric, although she'd managed to slip out of the house in her shortest, flounciest skirt that lightly skimmed across her thighs. Her grandmother thought she looked adorable in whatever she wore, and she knew she was going into the woods so there wouldn't be any gossips around to tell her mother that she looked like a trollop.

Dahlia glared at nothing in particular at the thought. Her mother worried far too much about what other people thought, while Dahlia couldn't care less. She ran her hands over the dark laces of the black corset that cinched in her waist and pushed up her breasts before pointing her toes and kicking at the shallow water in frustration.

The sound of deep laughter from the shore nearly caused her to fall over entirely, but she managed to regain her balance before she tumbled headlong into the creek's deeper parts.

Dahlia's blue eyes flashed as she turned towards the sound, annoyance tinged with anger stamping out any fear she might have felt at running into a stranger alone in these woods. After all, the stranger was laughing. It wasn't as if he was a wild animal. He was obviously human.

When their eyes met the man who was sitting beside Dahlia's basket stopped laughing, although his mouth still held a hint of a smile. "Little girl, what are you doing in these woods all alone? Don't you know it's dangerous?"

Dahlia frowned at him, unhappy with the way he'd addressed her. She wasn't a little girl and she was perfectly fine walking to her grandmother's house by herself.

"I'm not a little girl. My eighteenth birthday was a month ago." She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and took in the appearance of the man who was sitting casually on a large boulder, regarding her as if he were the king of the forest.

He was quite tall, taller even than Archer, she thought, as her eyes traveled over his body. His shoulders were wide and muscular, and his chest was clearly toned, with thick arms resting against his knees while he leaned forward and watched her with interest. The man's eyes were blue, and his hair was a thick chocolate brown that he kept neatly trimmed, unlike most of the men she'd seen on the path in the past, who let their hair and beards grow long against the cold winter nights. He was wearing boots, and well made breeches, with his white linen shirt unbuttoned, along with his vest. His sword belt sat on the rock, next to her basket.

The man saw her eyes travel across the opening of his shirt and he laughed again. "I can see that you're not." He finally replied to her statement about her age with a smirk, his eyes lingering on her ample cleavage. "I too was coming here to cool off after a long morning. But I see you beat me to it.."

"Don't let me stop you."

"Oh I wouldn't," his amusement seemed to grow with every word that she spoke and he began to unlace his boot, while his eye continued to drink her in. "But you'd do well to heed my warning and turn back and leave the forest now. It isn't safe for a girl like you." His eyes, which had risen to her face, traveled back down to her breasts again.

"I can't do that." She said as she sat on another rock, further away from him after plucking up her socks and boots.

"And why is that?" She frowned at his persistence, before shaking her head.

"Because, I need to get these muffins and breads to my Grandmother. She has a garden but it's been weeks since anyone from my family has seen her and we need to check in and make sure that she's going alright and bring her certain necessities."

"Mrs. Lemp is your grandmother?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, she is." Dahlia answered, her cheeks turning pink at the way he had continued to stare at her. She was used to boys looking at her and she rather liked it, but this man was making her nervous, in a way that made her uncomfortably wet to the core. Dahlia had the distinct impression she couldn't play him quite like she'd played every other boy she'd ever met.

Because he wasn't a boy. He was a man.

"I can't let you go on." He shook his head. "There are wolves in this forest. They've killed four men this week alone. You must go back."

"And who are you? The King of this forest? That you might order me to go back?" Her eyes narrowed and her hands were now on her hips.

"No." He shook his head and turned quickly to look up the road. "I am not the King of this forest and I can promise you that you would rather not meet him. I suggest you go. Quickly?" He stripped his shirt and vest off and dropped them and she quickly bent to pull on her socks, avoiding his eyes.

"Fine." She said the word without feeling. Dahlia thrust her feet into her boots and waited until she heard the man splash into the water behind her before plucking her basket full of baked goods from the ground beside his sword.

Turning she looked back over her shoulder and saw that he was completely under water and so she grabbed his sword and belt and tucked it under her cloak and hurried quickly around the bend in the path that took her out of sight of that part of the river, heading all the while towards her grandmother's house.