Red (18 page)

“I can't help you,” I said.

Horst's face fell. “What will you do when she dies? Who will you have then?”

“She has me!” shouted Goldie. “I'm her dearest friend in all the world.”

Horst sighed. “Well then, I suppose there's only one thing to be done.” He pulled out his long, curved knife. It flashed in the firelight. I flinched, but Horst didn't touch me. He grabbed a handful of Goldie's curls.

“Ouch! That hurts, you horrible, mean man!”

“What would you do for your dearest friend in all the world?” said Horst. “Would you help
me
to save
her
?”

“Let her go,” I said in a weak voice.

“Red, don't help him! I'm not afraid to die! I'm nooo-aaagh!” Horst yanked cruelly on her hair, but Goldie grasped the poker by the fire, glowing hot, and waved it around until it smacked Horst on the head. He hollered and dropped his knife, slapping at his smoking hair.

“Run, Red!” Goldie grabbed my hand and we raced to the door. I burst through, practically breaking it off its hinges, and both Goldie and I tumbled outside. I grabbed Goldie's hand and yanked her to her feet, then shoved her down again as Horst let loose an arrow. It came right at me, but I lifted my cloak and the arrow fell harmlessly to the ground.

I glanced back at Horst. He reached for another arrow, his face set with grim determination.

“Stay inside my cloak,” I whispered to Goldie. She nodded, and we rose together and ran into The Woods. Horst shot at us again and again. The arrows whistled past my ears and pierced the trees. We were slow and awkward, two girls huddled together, hobbling through a dark forest, but Horst couldn't be much faster. His hearts had made him strong and powerful, but stiff and slow, too. There had to be consequences for such magic. Maybe even more than Horst realized.

Soon we outdistanced him. The arrows stopped, and I heard no footsteps in pursuit. We slowed to a walk.

“Do you know where we are?” Goldie asked.

I shook my head. We were in The Woods—near home—but our surroundings were dark and unfamiliar to me. I had no idea where Horst's cabin was in relation to anything else. Were we north of the village? South, east, west? Where was my path? I took a few steps in every direction, hoping it would appear, willing it to life, but nothing happened.

Goldie started to shiver beside me. I didn't think it had to do with cold so much as shock. She'd had one too many frights for a day, but I couldn't afford to give in to fear. I had to get us home.

“Let's keep walking,” I said. “We'll find our way.”

We walked for what seemed like hours, and still The Woods were unfamiliar. It was eerily silent. No creatures spoke. The nymphs did not whisper their memories, and the trees felt cold and lifeless. The only thing that moved was the mist, spilling over the ground like an overflowing potion, so thick my path would not have been visible even if it did appear.

I pulled my hood over my head and wrapped my cloak tightly around Goldie and myself.

A twig snapped. A flock of birds exploded out of a tree.

Fly! Danger!
they cried.

Goldie jumped and clutched my arm. I searched for the cause of alarm. There was movement in the mist. My first instinct was to run, but then I paused. The figure was approaching too fast to be Horst, its movements graceful and agile.

I let out the breath I'd been holding. “It's Wolf.”

He bounded up to me and knocked me over. He licked my face and wagged his tail like an excited pup.

I laughed. “Glad to see you, too,” I said. I picked myself up and scratched his ruff, feeling his relief, worry, anger, and excitement, all mixed together. He growled, low and fierce.

Monster!
he said, and for once I understood. The images of Wolf's pack flashed through my mind, disappearing one by one. I now recognized them as the wolves I had seen adorning Horst's walls.

“I know,” I said. “Horst is a monster, but I won't let him hurt you. I promise.” Wolf touched his nose to my fingers. I felt his complete trust, and the weight of my promise pressed down heavily upon me.

“Look!” said Goldie, pointing at her feet.

The mist had thinned enough for us to see the faint outline of a path. My path. It seemed to flicker in and out of view, threatening to disappear again, like it was having difficulty breathing.

Granny…

Granny had made my path with her magic. If the path was fading, that might mean Granny was, too….

“Let's go,” I said. We walked as quickly as we could, and soon our surroundings started to look familiar. The knots in the trees, the rise of a hill, the rocks and brush—these were my Woods, but I did not feel at home.

When we reached Granny's cottage, it did not grow out of the trees with its usual flair and flourish. It just sat there, a dark and lonesome hut. No tendrils of smoke rose from the chimney, no candles glowed through the windows. No pigs or chickens clustered by the fence to greet me.

“It looks a little…abandoned,” said Goldie.

“That's just because Granny's been ill,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “She's probably sleeping.”

Wolf growled a little. He didn't like the looks of it, either.

“Wait here,” I said.

“I'll go with you, Red,” said Goldie. “You shouldn't be alone.”

“It's all right,” I said. “Stay here. Granny isn't fond of strangers.”

Wolf whined some more and nipped at the edge of my cloak.

Stay.

“I have to go see Granny.” I left them behind and approached the cottage. My heart pounded faster and louder with each step. My stomach and throat tightened into knots. Was I too late? In my quest to save Granny, had I missed what little time I had left with her?

Knock, knock, knock.
I tapped on the door. “Granny?” I called. “It's Red.”

“Come in, child. It's not locked.”

I sighed with relief. Granny's voice was very hoarse, but she was here. She was alive.

I opened the door. The house was dim and shadowy, but the cottage was much as I had left it—bread on the table, vials and jars on the shelves, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling—though it smelled funny. The usual fragrance of herbs and spices was overpowered by the smell of smoke and game. I guessed this was the smell of someone who'd been ill and bedridden, but for some reason it made the hair on my arms prickle. It wasn't the right smell for Granny's cottage.

I looked to the bed and almost laughed. Granny was in her wolf costume! She must have been feeling better if she was in good enough spirits to be playing jokes. She must have known I was coming!

“Oh, Granny, what big eyes you have.”

She said nothing. Perhaps she could not hear me. I stepped closer and spoke a little louder.

“Oh, Granny, what big
ears
you have.”

Nothing. I stepped closer, my face inches from the wolf's mouth. “Oh, Granny, what big teeth you have!”

Granny reached up and pulled off the wolf's head and smiled with teeth that were large indeed. Too large to be Granny's.

Because it wasn't Granny in the bed.

It was Horst.

I screamed and turned to run, but Horst snatched me by the cloak. I twisted and yanked to get free, but his grip was like iron. I reached up and undid the clasp of my cloak. It sent me pitching forward, but I caught myself in time and burst through the door.

“Goldie, run! It's Horst! Run!” I tripped over a tree root and tumbled to the ground.

“Red!” Goldie cried, pointing behind me. Horst came slowly toward me, my cloak still clutched in his fist. I tried to stand, but gasped with pain and faltered. I'd twisted my ankle.

A cold, hard hand wrapped around my arm and lifted me off the ground.

“Why are you afraid, little Red?” Horst said. “I only want to help.”

I struggled to free myself. I kicked Horst as hard as I could and screamed as sharp pangs shot up my leg, but Horst did not let go. He didn't even wince.

“What did you do to Granny?” I demanded.

Horst smiled. It split across his withered face, sinister and grotesque. “You'll never see your granny again, not unless you give me the wolf.”

“I won't!” I shouted, and yanked harder, straining my wrist.

“I must have a heart, Red. If you don't give me the wolf, then I'll have to find another heart.” Horst brandished his long knife. “One I already have in my grasp.”

Wolf growled, and bounded out of the trees. He attacked Horst, clamping his jaws around his neck.

“Wolf, no!” I shouted. Horst released me and heaved Wolf off of him. There was no blood where Wolf had bitten him, only teeth and claw marks, like gouges in clay. Wolf came at Horst again, growling, biting, and clawing, to no avail.

Horst's knife glinted silver as it slashed through the air. Wolf yelped and fell to the ground. I screamed and stumbled toward him, but Horst grabbed me by my hair.

Goldie attacked Horst, pummeling him with her tiny fists. “Stop it! Let her go, you mean man!”

Horst gave Goldie a small shove, and she fell.

“Goldie, run!” I shouted. “Get away as fast as you can!”

She shook her head. “I can't leave you! You'll die!”

Horst pulled my hair tighter. He pressed his knife to my throat. “Better run, little girl, before you meet the same fate as your friend.”

Goldie kept shaking her head, tears running down her face.

I knew she wouldn't leave just to save herself. She was too kind, too loyal. But it was me Horst wanted. Me and Wolf. I couldn't allow Goldie to get hurt because of me.

“Goldie, I need you to get help. Run as fast as you can. Shout for help as loud as you can!”

Goldie wiped her tears. She stood up and ran through the trees, wailing for help.

I struggled once more to free myself, flinching at the cold blade against my skin.

“It looks as though your wolf friend won't be able to run from me any longer.”

Wolf lay injured and helpless on the ground. He whined a little and struggled to get up, but fell back down.

And I had nothing to protect him. No path. No cloak. I was just a little girl. Just Red.

Red.

The tree nymphs rushed above me in the branches, whispering, clicking, sprinkling memories, and I remembered.

My name was supposed to be powerful. It was supposed to be full of magic, like the red wine, the roses, and rubies. But it wasn't just my name. It was myself.
I
was full of magic. Granny said so. She said I was born with magic, and I heard her words now.

Red, don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid of what? A wolf? A huntsman? Death? Or was I only afraid of myself? My own destiny. My own magic, big and messy and—yes, sometimes it made fire and warts and roses out the nose, but that didn't mean it was
evil.
That didn't mean I couldn't be good.

I'd seen magic cause so many problems. Horrible curses, heartache, death. But I'd also seen it charm, delight, and heal. Inside of me, there was magic. I could feel it boiling to the surface, burning like rivers of fire in my veins. I had tried so hard to shove it down, to make it go away, but now it could not be contained.

I threw myself at Horst, releasing fiery magic so strong that it knocked him off his feet and sent him crashing into a tree. The tree gave a sickening crack. Horst was not hurt, only surprised. His eyes widened, and I saw the faintest flicker of fear in them, but then he steeled himself. He gnashed his teeth and rushed at me, roaring with beastly rage.

I stood my ground in front of Wolf. My heart pounded. It seemed to echo a spell, one that was all my own.

I am fearless.

I am magic.

I am Red.

Horst raised his knife for one final attack to end it all. He cried out, and the blade came down, down, down, its sharp point hurtling toward my drumming, magic heart.

But the knife stopped just inches from my chest. Horst struggled, grunting with effort as he pressed it toward me, but some force pushed him back. I could feel the power emanating from me, springing from every part of me like branches growing out of a tree, like rays shooting from the sun. Horst grimaced. A crack formed in his hand. He trembled, pushing harder, until the crack spread up his arm and spiderwebbed over his knuckles. His skin turned a sickly gray, and more cracks crawled up his neck and face.

Horst's eyes grew panicked. All the fear he'd kept so carefully hidden now flooded to the surface. He emitted a deep groan, like a cave about to collapse. He dropped his knife and reached a hand out toward me in desperation until his fingers stiffened and crumbled like chalk. He fell to one knee, and his leg was crushed beneath the weight. The muscles in his neck tightened. His eyes turned dusty gray and hollow. Horst stretched his jaw in a silent scream as his whole body became solid stone.

A flurry of nymphs rushed down from the trees and swarmed around him then, whispering and clicking hungrily, drinking in the old huntsman's centuries of memories. They flew around him, faster and faster, building up a powerful cyclone, until the stone huntsman cracked in two, then disintegrated into a pile of dust.

As the power ebbed from me, my limbs grew cold. The Woods grew utterly still and silent. I felt I was in a place I had never been before. The world felt different—or perhaps it was me who was different.

Wolf whimpered beneath me, pulling me from my trance. I fell to the ground and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was bleeding, but I couldn't tell how many wounds he had or how deep they were. My cloak lay on the ground beside him. I wrapped it around his body, pressing it into his wounds. Wolf whimpered and placed a paw on my knee.

Monster,
he said.
Gone.

“Yes,” I said. “The monster is gone. You're safe now.” I propped his head in my lap, and he seemed to relax.

A wind rushed through the trees, scattering the pile of dust that had been Horst the huntsman. Not dead. Just gone. Erased. No more. The magic he had sought so desperately to stop death had also stopped his life.