A Tale of Red Riding: Rise of the Alpha Huntress (The Alpha Huntress Series Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter 5

Red awoke at the break of dawn with a sense of calm she had never known. In the land of Wayward, her future was a mysterious path of unknown possibilities. Whatever she would become there didn’t frighten her. It had to be better than being tossed around like a rag doll from one orphanage to another. In the city, she would have eventually fallen into a mundane life of hard labor or waiting on tables. For the first time, she actually felt hopeful about the future.

Looking down at her dress lying tattered on the floor, Red whimpered a little. She couldn’t imagine having to put the thing back on in such a sorry state. It was certain she would need something new to wear, or at least something not ripped apart at the seams.

With a blanket wrapped around herself, Red opened the bedroom door and peered into the hallway. The scent of fresh baked pastries woke her hunger like a starving beast. Her empty stomach grumbled with anticipation over what awaited her in her granny’s kitchen.

“Red, are you awake?” Grenda called from downstairs.

“I am, Granny,” Red called out. “At least I think so.”

“I made up a hot bath for you, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, yes. That would be the best thing ever.”

Red had never felt so dirty in her life. There wasn’t an inch of her body that wasn’t covered in filth. Her hair felt like vermin had crawled into it and built a nest. The constant itching had been another problem she was doing her best to ignore.

“It’s the door at the end of the hall,” Grenda said. “I put a change of clothes in the bathroom closet for you.”

Red dashed down the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door. The sight of an old cast iron tub filled to the brim with steaming water was more than she could have hoped for.

Just before getting into the tub, she stopped cold and locked the door. In the orphanages, forgetting to do this was an invitation for trouble. It felt a little foolish to feel the need to do this in the safety of her new home, but she wasn’t ready to let her guard down just yet.

As Red stepped into the hot water, she was certain that the day would be the finest of her life. She committed to the creed of always being grateful for things even as simple as a hot bubble bath. This was a luxury as rare to her as receiving gifts on Christmas morning.

Dipping her head under the water brought a moment of silent tranquility. Her thoughts drifted away to a time long ago. She recalled sitting in the tub as a child, her mother by her side, singing a lovely folk song. It was the most vivid memory Red had ever experienced from her childhood. She could only hope that in the coming days, the house would grant her many more memories of her life.

By the time the water grew cold, Red had washed her hair twice and scrubbed every nook of her body. She wished she could stay there all day, but the time had come to step out and face her new world.

The towel she dried off with was the softest thing that had ever touched her skin. It was quite the opposite of a place she had once lived where the towels were made of scratchy burlap.

The next order of business was hanging inside the tiny bathroom closet. The change of clothes Grenda had put there for her to wear was a troubling mystery. It wasn’t a big secret that grannies don’t always share the same fashion sense as their granddaughters.

With no other choice, Red resolved to gratefully wear whatever was waiting for her inside. Slowly opening the closet door, her eyes lit up with delight. The most wonderful green dress she had ever seen hung inside, made of crushed velvet with crisscrossing ribbons that laced up the front.

The aroma of fresh roses rushed Red’s senses as she rubbed the soft fabric against her face. Letting out a shrill of joy, she slipped the dress on and was astonished to find that it perfectly fit her every curve.

Red gasped in bliss when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The dress was the same worn by her mother in one of the photos on the mantel downstairs. She pulled the towel off her head to let her red hair dangle down. The sight of her reflection brought a blissful smile to her face. She looked nearly identical to her mother.

If ever there was such a thing as a perfect day, Red felt she was living that day in all its glory. She began to hum the tune that she recalled her mother singing to her as a child. While the words were unknown to her, the melody felt hauntingly familiar. She would have stood in front of the mirror for endless hours, if not for realizing that she could now see her mother anytime she wanted to.

Red stepped out of the bathroom and headed downstairs. In the living room, she took a moment to look at her mother’s photos on the mantel. She tried not to assume the worse about her mother’s fate, but suspected it was grim, considering the way Grenda had dodged the question. This led Red to wonder what became of her father after he ditched her on the steps of the church.

In her granny’s kitchen, Red gasped at the spread of breakfast delicacies waiting for her on the table. She dashed over and began to pile a plate high. If it hadn’t been days since having had a proper meal, she might have felt a bit greedy for taking so much. But instead, she called out, “Granny, this all looks so wonderful. I hope you’ll join me in this fine feast.”

Red bit into a blueberry biscuit and waited eagerly for a response. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Next, Red stuffed a luscious strawberry in her mouth and savored its sweet juices.

“Where are you, Granny?”

Red stood from the table and walked over to the pantry. Upon opening the door, she expected to find Grenda inside. Instead, there was nothing more than small shelves well stocked with cans and jarred preserves. There wasn’t nearly enough space for a person even as small as Grenda to fit, but she distinctly remembered seeing her granny step out of it the night before.

When Red turned back to the table, there was a note sitting next to the plate she had just been eating from. She shook her head in outright denial, refusing to believe that she’d been so busy enjoying the delicacies that it had gone unnoticed.

In a dash, she grabbed the single sheet of parchment and unfolded it. The handwriting was the fanciest she had ever seen and just as difficult to decipher. From what Red could gather, Grenda had needed to head into town for some reason or other and wouldn’t return until just before nightfall.

Dwelling in her disappointment, Red wandered the house, snooping around in the closets and cupboards. Grenda had a fascinating collage of strange objects stored away, many of which had no clear purpose.

In a large oak chest, Red found a stack of dusty photo albums, most filled to the brim with pictures of her mother, spanning from birth to adulthood. There were also plenty of Grenda in her younger days, and she was exceptionally attractive.

At the bottom of the stack was an album containing photos of Red as a child. One showed her sitting in front of a cake with five candles, with a boy and girl of the same age standing at her side.
Red, Dote, Ash, Age 5
was written on it in faded ink. Red could only wonder if these children were relations or friends, but judging from their joyful smiles, she suspected they were the best of friends.

By the time she’d finished looking through the albums, a glowing smile had overcome her face. The photos sparked memories that held many wonderful feelings. The one troubling thought she could not shake was that there wasn’t a single photo of a man who could be her father. Red was sure there had to be a good reason, but that question could not be answered until Grenda returned, and that was still hours away.

In the early afternoon, Red decided to venture outside. The woods surrounding the house were far less menacing by day. The weather was so perfect that she wanted nothing more than to hop on her little motorcycle and go for a long ride. It was quite upsetting to think that her little man was sitting alone in the woods, unwatched and well out of her reach. She could only hope that the mysterious rider would soon return to help her retrieve it.

The path Red had walked down the night before looked safe and inviting in the daylight. It took her only a brief moment before deciding there could be no harm in taking a short stroll.

Each step she took came with a new and wonderful fragrance to enjoy. The sounds of the forest were a delight to her ears. Birds sang cheerful melodies, unlike the mindless squawking of those that lived in the city. It wasn’t long before she felt that her perfect first day in Wayward was getting back on track.

“Red Riding.” The muffled voice of a man called out from the near distance.

Deathly startled, Red stopped cold in her tracks. Holding her breath, she looked all around. The area was so thick with trees and shadows, whoever it was could have been two feet from her and she wouldn’t have known it.

“Is somebody there?” Red said, no louder than a whisper.

“Over here,” the man said. “Come quick.”

“Is that you, Wolf Boy?” Red thought it might be the mysterious rider, although the voice didn’t sound as she remembered. “I’d like you to take me to my motorcycle.”

“I don’t know anybody by that name,” the man said.

“Then who are you and how do you know me?” Red asked.

“If you want to see me, you have to come and find me.”

“Why don’t you just come out and show yourself?” Red stood for an impatient moment, waiting for a response. Nothing came. “Well if that’s the way you’re going to be, I’m heading back home.”

“Fine. Run right back to your granny’s house like a frightened little girl.”

Red grunted in angst. She knew venturing off the path came with a lot of risk, considering she didn’t know her way around the woods. It wouldn’t take much for her to get lost and not be able to find the way back.

“Don’t tell me
you’re
afraid, Little Red.”

“Who said I’m afraid?”

The man sang out, taunting her, “Little Red Riding is a fraidy cat. A foolish girl. A little brat.”

“Hey, I’m not a fraidy cat.”

“Fraidy cat, fraidy cat. Little Red is a fraidy cat.”

There wasn’t a chance Red would walk away now. She just had to know who was calling to her, even if doing so meant taking a big risk.

“I haven’t got all day, Little Red fraidy cat.”

“Fine. But this better be good.”

As Red ventured off the path and into the woods, she did her best to note landmarks in hopes they would help her find the way back. She passed a hollowed log … a pile of black stones … and a tree with a large nest holding a family of chirping baby bluebirds.

“You’re almost here. Hurry, quickly.” The man’s voice sounded close now, and much deeper than before.

“I’m going as fast as I can. Would you tell me your name?”

Again there was no response. Red knew it would be best to stop this foolishness and return to the path. She had walked in a straight line, so doing an immediate about-face should lead her back to safety.

“You’re not thinking of running away like a little fraidy cat,
are you
?” the man asked.

Red’s need to prove her courage overpowered her sensibility. Venturing onward, she noted a tree bent over into a curved arch, with the top touching the ground. She thought such a large landmark would be easy to spot on her return trip to the path.

“If you won’t say your name, at least tell me how you know who I am,” Red said.

“Don’t be silly. Everybody in Wayward knows who
you
are, Red Riding.”

Red stopped cold. This had gone far enough. “If you refuse to tell me who you are, I’m going straight back to the path.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is. Now what’s it going to be?”

“Fine, go back to the path.
If
you can find your way.”

The temperature dropped so quickly that it made Red shiver and shake. In only seconds, she could see her own breath as she exhaled. There was no doubt she had made a dangerous mistake.

Red did a quick about-face and started walking as fast as she could in a straight line. Her eyes searched for the arched tree she had passed only moments ago. She desperately wanted to see the nest of bluebirds—or the pile of black rocks—and the hollowed out tree, but none of these things were anywhere to be found.

“Keep going. The path can’t be far now,” the man said with a snicker.

“Would you just leave me alone already?”

Red walked even faster, but she was gasping for breath and shivering from the unnatural chill in the air. Whoever her unknown stalker was, it was sure he had done something sinister to prevent her from finding the path.

“Don’t tire yourself too much, Little Red. I like my meals to have a little fight in them.”

His words pierced Red’s ears like a knife. She had traveled so far to find her granny and still had much to learn of herself. The idea of her journey ending in such a foolish way was unacceptable. She knew it was time to stop running and face her stalker head on.

“Don’t give up too easily or I’ll be disappointed,” the man said.

“Who said I’m giving up?”

Red piled a few small stones near her feet. She then snapped a branch off a tree, creating a jagged stake about a foot in length. With her makeshift weapon concealed behind her back, she struck an innocent pose. “I’m waiting, unless you’re too much of a fraidy cat to show your face.”

“Don’t fear, little dear. I’ll be there to meet you just as soon as I can.”

“Don’t make me wait too long.”

After a silent moment passed, a nearby patch of bushes began shuddering. When her stalker emerged, he was nothing more than a decrepit old man. He stood hunched and walking with the aid of a twisted wooden cane. Red felt disgusted by the sight of his withered skin and long and crooked nose.

“Well, hello there, Little Red Riding. The master didn’t tell me you were going to be so darn pretty,” the old man said with a raspy voice. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Red eyed the old man oddly. “Master? Who are you talking about?”

He pointed to the moon hovering high above. “It doesn’t matter because you’re not going to be around long enough to ever meet
him
.”

Red cringed at the man’s foul stench. It reminded her of rotten eggs. She then spoke in a childish tone. “Gee, mister, I thought you were going to be something big and scary, like a hairy troll or a smelly old orc.”