Red Riding Hood - The True Story

Her legend has been told worldwide for centuries. Even to the children of earth, her name is whispered as the star of a fairy tale. Some might call her a cautionary tale. 

Portrayed as a small girl bringing crumpets to her grandmother, and later rescued by a woodsman from certain death, it is clear the weavers of these stories know her not. 

When the myths and legends first began their circulation, Reddumina and I were young girls, not past our fiftieth year. Understand you must that for a dragon shifter and a wraithe, the age of fifty is merely a blip past our adolescence, indeed, at the dawn of our adulthood.

I remember that night as we sat in a nearby tavern thumping about our tankards of ale and dreaming of what we would accomplish now that we were considered grown. It was the beginning of a thrilling adventure; one we were eager to set off on together.

The tavern smelled of unwashed supernatural beings’ bodies and delectably cooked meats with exotic spices. Pheromones were wafting about the large common room as locals attempted to find a companion for the night, a bit of warmth for their beds, and perhaps their hearts, as well.

Red and I were left to our own devices. While dragon shifters were desired bed companions by almost every other species, the possibility of a frolic in the sheets with me was not enough to overcome being in the vicinity of a wraithe.

My species and wraithes harbored no ill will against one another, as we had natural common enemies, it wasn't entirely common for two of such to strike up such a fast and loyal friendship. 

Reddumina, Red as she was called by most, had a soul as tough as steel. While I’d known her to indulge in the odd comfort and offering of entertainment, she didn’t like most creatures. She tolerated them with barely concealed hostility if I were to be totally honest. That, too, wasn’t unheard of for a wraithe.

Once they were adults they traveled mostly in solitude until they settled to reproduce in a small clutch of sorts. There they would remain until their offspring were adult enough to be released into the world on their own. They held affection for their children, but it was a different sort than any other species. They showed love by allowing and even expecting them to grow strong and tough enough to survive the solitary adventures they would soon face. They took pride in the amount of terror and respect their wraithelings could command from those around them.

How we became friends, I don’t exactly know. I had other friends, other shifters - not just dragon ones - and the occasional human companion. But one day I had crossed paths with Red in the forest between her clutch and my flight and she had declared that I was slightly less annoying than anyone she had ever met. She further informed me, with a grin both sinister and captivating, that she was certain my dragon would be terrifying one day, and she was looking forward to seeing that spectacle. I didn’t know at the time that meant that she was going to stick around and be friends with me, but I soon found out.

As we sat and drank ale after ale that evening in the aforementioned tavern, a human girl burst into the place, a desperately wild look in her eyes. She’d have to be desperate to come to a supernatural hangout. Not all species looked kindly upon humans.

“Please!” she called out to the room in a surprisingly strong voice, “my grandmother’s home is being attacked by wolf shifter rogues! Please, someone!”

That got Red’s attention right away. She hated wolf shifter rogues more than most other species. They were constantly encroaching upon her clutch’s area and trying to claim the home under their territory. But the fact was, rogues couldn’t own territory. No one would back the claiming of land for a creature that had been cast out from his pack for unspeakable crimes.

I watched Red as she gave the girl the once over, then turned my eyes to her myself attempting to guess what Red might be seeing. She was a small thing, even for a human. I guessed she was probably around twelve years old. She was much smaller than both Red and I. Her hair was a dirty blonde color and her eyes a mystifyingly deep brown. There was fear in them, but there was anger, too. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight and she was clever enough to know that she would need the right weapons to win.

“Come,” Red said to me as she made her way to the girl.

When Red and I stood before her, she looked up at us. Making eye contact even as her body trembled, the scent of her fear wafted up our noses. But she squared her shoulders and stood as tall as she was able, her fists clenched at her sides.

Red cocked an amused eyebrow at her then gestured towards the door as if to say, “After you.”

The girl nodded, looking visibly relieved as she led the way out into the night. She was fast and nimble, scurrying through the forest over brush and felled logs. She didn’t even look back to see if we were following. I found her innocent faith in two strangers to be refreshing.

When she began to near a clearing, she slowed then came to a stop behind a woodshed at the edge of the trees.

Finally, she turned to us and said, “My grandmother and our neighbor, the woodsman, tried to fight them off but ended up beaten and tied to chairs. They didn’t notice me because I was outside and downwind of them. They’re looking for something. There are three of them.”

Red observed the girl closely as she spoke. I could tell she was speaking truthfully from her scent. It was a wonder that humans had survived so long in a world overrun with supernaturals who could decipher them with a good whiff.

“Stay,” Red finally said to the girl and stepped out from behind the shed while pulling the double-edged battle axe from its home on her back.

She then looked over at me and motioned towards the small cottage with her chin. Her eyes were filled with glee and deadly intent. I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy.

Stifling a grin, I followed quietly behind her. I probably wouldn’t be needed but I confess I was nearly giddy at the prospect of finally being able to see what a wraithe could do. Red wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but the rumors of the wraithe abilities were spoken of with a hushed reverence throughout the world. A mature and experienced wraithe need not even touch or be seen by their opponent before the enemy succumbed to a terrifying death at their hands, so to speak.

Red practically floated up to the cottage and planted her back against it beside a window. She reached up with the handle end of her battleaxe and pushed aside the curtain flowing in and out of the open window.

Her scent changed in that moment. Whereas she normally smelled of spices and heat, now her scent was practically non-existent. I hadn’t known that a wraithe could cloak their scent, and I was fascinated.

I opened my mouth and licked my lower lip, allowing my tongue to probe for further aromas, but there was only the scent of the earth and vegetation beneath our feet, the rogues, the three humans, their blood, and a few frightened animals passing through the forest nearby.

The sounds of bashing and smashing could be heard from inside as the rogues were tearing apart every piece of furniture and pulling up every floorboard in their quest for whatever it is they came for. An occasional growl punctuated their frustration at not finding what they sought.

Red slowly peered into the room and grinned wickedly. She pulled away from the window, flipped her axe into the air, catching it by the handle as it came back down again. The sound of the whirring blade in the air caused the interior kerfuffle to silence.

A snarling voice from inside ordered, “Go and check it out.”

A probing at my mind startled me and I looked into Red’s eyes.

The surprise caused my natural barrier to drop, and her voice sounded in my mind, “Prepare for battle, friend.”

I cloaked myself in my dragon’s scales, thought I stayed in humanoid form. Red grinned at me again as I extended long, sharp claws from the tips of my fingers.

My senses heightened in anticipation as the human-form feet of the foul-smelling rogue came padding around the edge of the small dwelling. Just as he rounded the corner, he came face to face with a smiling Reddumina, her axe resting upon one shoulder and a wicked smile on her face.

He seemed to dismiss her and glanced over her shoulder at me. I was certain I was an intimidating vision standing behind her covered in dragon scales, but it wasn’t me he should have been worried about. Even as his eyes widened in fear upon seeing me, Red reached out one finger and touched him on the forehead.

He instantly fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Wolf shifters are not soft creatures. They fear little and almost all are battle trained, especially back in those days. Shifters relegated to exile were packless because they had committed horrors against their packs or humans that were not quite bad enough for execution but too bad or dangerous to be kept near innocent pack members.

This male had likely been tortured as punishment for his crimes and not flinched a bit. But here he was, screaming wildly after one touch from a small wraithe who was barely an adult.

I watched him with a grimace on my face as he began to foam at the mouth and twitch violently, his screams fading away.

I glanced over to the shed the girl had stayed at and I couldn’t see her. Hopefully, she’d been hiding behind it and not watching the commotion.

I felt the wind stir at my back just in time to turn and dodge a vicious claw swipe from a second rogue. He’d shifted into wolf form and looked scrawny and mangy. His only shot with me was a surprise attack and he’d lost that advantage. As he noticed my dragon scaled skin, he growled low, probably thinking he might give me pause, but he was not intimidating in the least.

It wasn’t that I was bloodthirsty or wanting to kill a rogue particularly, but I did think of what he was doing to the girl’s family, and how two of them were tied up inside and getting knocked about while the girl was cowering in the yard.

My dear valiant dragon rumbled within my chest, nudging my arm forward, and I followed through in agreement with her intent.

In the blink of an eye my hand was grasped fully around the rogue’s throat as I lifted him off the ground. My claws dug into his neck, causing blood to drip down into the rich earth beneath us.

He fought me savagely and desperately but the best he could do was claw at my arm, which was protected by my dragon’s scales. I barely felt a thing.

“Kill him,” my dragon half roared into my mind.

I paused for a moment and considered. She was more bloodthirsty than I was, but these rogues would go on to harm anyone in their way. They were criminals else they wouldn’t be rogued in the first place.

“Quilla…” she urged.

Rather than answer her, I squeezed my fist tighter around him until his neck snapped in two. The satisfaction of the sensation rolled over me in a warm tingle.

I released him, his limp furry body thumping to the ground. When I looked up from my kill, I noticed Red was no longer nearby and I took a step to my left, peering into the window of the cottage.

The third rogue was passed out on the floor, fully in human form, and Red was untying the two humans from the chairs.

The elderly woman was blubbering and thanking her profusely then suddenly her eyes widened as she cried out, “Silla! Thank the gods you are unharmed!”

The girl rushed into the room and gently pulled her grandmother into an embrace.

The woodsman stood, flexing his hands in silence. I assumed he was trying to recirculate the blood to stop them tingling after being tied up so tightly.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say. I wanted to ask if they were truly ok. I wanted to find out what the rogues had been looking for, and I wanted to know if we should worry about this family and a return group of rogues.

In the end, I could do none of those things.

Red simply removed her red hooded cape, and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders, then bent down and whispered into her ear.

“The woodsman came and found you and your grandmother being attacked by a hungry rogue wolf. He saved you both from the creature. There was no one else here,” her voice had taken on a musically eerie tone that made goosepimples erupt on my now scale-free skin.

She turned to me and grinned, waving her hand over the dead man on the floor of the cottage, forcing him to shift post-mortem to his wolf form. I’d never seen such a thing, but it happened. Then she dragged the blade of her axe over his throat, causing blood to spill onto the broken floorboards.

She strode outside and around to the back of the cabin where the other two dead rogues lay on the ground. Waving her hand again, the two bodies erupted into ash and blew away on the wind.

Now I understood why all feared the wraithe. I would never underestimate Red again, and well she knew it.