Wolves At The Door

I was eight years old when the Huntsman found me, cowering in my grandmother's house, about to be eaten by a wolf. Maybe you've heard the story. Everywhere I go, the townspeople tell a different version.

Well, here's the only part you need to know - the Huntsman swung his axe, and the wolf fled. He was too late - my grandmother was already gone.

The Wild Hunt was upon us, and the war would be fought by hunters.

A dark adaption of Little Red Riding Hood.