Red (19 page)

I don't know how long Wolf and I remained alone in The Woods, whether it was minutes or hours, but eventually someone came for us.

“Red!” came a voice. Wolf sat up, his hackles raised and his ears pricked.

“It's all right.” I tried to calm him. “It's just Goldie.”

But she wasn't alone. Someone else was with her, and the presence spooked Wolf. He growled low, feeling threatened. “Don't be afraid,” I said. “No one will hurt you.”

“There she is! She's there with the wolf!” Goldie said. The person following Goldie started to run.

“Red?” It was a familiar voice, deep, edged with worry.

“Papa?”

I recognized his tall, strong frame. He carried an ax over his shoulder. Wolf bolted upright and growled, louder this time. Papa came after him with his ax. “Get away from her! Get!”

“No, don't!” I shouted. Wolf did not attack. He whimpered in fear and stumbled back. Papa stomped forward, brandishing his ax. Wolf turned and limped away through the trees.

“Wolf, wait!” I called. I stood and tried to go after him, but pain lanced up my leg. I had forgotten about my ankle. I grew dizzy. The earth seemed to tilt beneath me, and I fell.

“Red.” Papa bent down and scooped me up in his arms. I pressed my head against his shoulder, comforted by his familiar smell of wood and wool. “Let's get you home.”

“Wolf,” I mumbled. “He's hurt.”

“The wolf can't hurt you anymore,” he said.

“No.” I tried to explain, but I couldn't form the words. I could barely think, I was so tired. Papa carried me through The Woods, away from Wolf and toward home.

The house was warm, but I felt cold inside. Papa sat me in a chair by the fire, and Mama was fussing all over me.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where are you hurt? Where did all this blood come from?” Mama brought a warm wet cloth and dabbed at my face. The cloth turned dark crimson.

“Wolf,” I muttered. I needed to go to him, make sure he was all right.

“A wolf!” Mama exclaimed. “I told you she shouldn't be roaming alone through The Woods!”

“The huntsman,” I started to explain.

“What about the huntsman? Did he kill the wolf?”

“He
tried
to kill the wolf,” said Goldie. “He tried to kill Red, too, and me, too! He wanted our Magic Hearts!”

“What?” Mama looked back and forth between Goldie and me, completely befuddled. “Red, what is she talking about?”

“Wolf…the huntsman…,” I tried to explain, but I was interrupted by a goat.

Maa-a-a-aaa!

“Milk?” I said.

“Blasted goat,” said Papa. “I don't know why she insists on keeping it indoors.”

“She's a good guard goat!” said a voice, weak and hoarse but familiar. “Saved me from a terrible monster!”

My breath caught. My heart stopped. The voice was like a spell. It lifted me off the chair and pulled me over to Mama and Papa's room. Milk the guard goat was tethered to the bedpost, and in the bed was Granny. She was thin and pale. She was coughing into a handkerchief, and it sounded terrible, but she was alive. Granny was
alive
!

“Red, is that you? It's about time! I told your mama and papa you'd be just fine, but they got in such a tizzy it gave me a headache!”

My eyes blurred. A lump formed in my throat, and it grew until I couldn't breathe, and something had to give. Tears burst from me like water from a broken dam.

“Good grief, child, what is the matter with you?”

“I…I thought you were dead!”

“Dead? What made you think I was dead?”

“Because you said you were dying.”

“Well, of course I'm dying. Everybody dies. It's the most natural thing in the world.”

“I know!” I laughed a little, and then I cried harder. I couldn't stop. There was just so much inside me, an endless well of feeling that I'd shoved down deep, wrapped up tight. Now it was bursting forth all at once, and it made me dizzy. My legs gave out beneath me. Papa picked me up in his arms and held me to his chest.

“Good grief,” Granny repeated.

Papa carried me to the bed and laid me down gently next to Granny. Mama took off my shoes and stockings. “Her ankle is swollen,” she said, and the reminder brought back the throbbing pain. She wrapped cool cloths around it, then tucked me beneath the blankets.

“Granny,” I said.

“I'm right here, child,” she said softly, and placed her hand in mine. I squeezed hard. It was old and wrinkled, but warm and alive.

“Don't die,” I said.

“I won't if you won't,” she said.

“Am I dying?” I asked. It felt as though I could be.

“No,” said Granny. “You're living. We're all living. Now close your eyes, child. Sleep.”

I believe she put a sleeping spell on me, because I closed my eyes and didn't wake for two days. I dreamt of Wolf wandering through The Woods, wounded and alone. I heard him howling, high and lonesome. I needed to find him, but I couldn't open my eyes.

When I finally woke, the house was quiet. Granny was sleeping beside me. It must have been early morning, the perfect opportunity for me to slip out of the house and into The Woods to find Wolf. I slid out of bed and gasped at the pain in my ankle. The swelling had gone down, but it was still tender. I hobbled toward the door.

Maaaaaa!
bleated Milk. She was chewing on some grass at the foot of the bed.

“Hush!” I said. “Do you want to wake the whole house?”

Maaaaaa!
Milk repeated, and Mama came rushing into the room.

“Tattletale,” I said.

“Red, what are you doing?” Mama took me by the arm and led me back to bed. “You're not fit to walk!”

“I have to find Wolf,” I said. “He needs help.”

“What are you talking about? Are you fevered?” She felt my forehead. I was not fevered, but the more I tried to explain about Wolf and his needing my help, the more Mama thought I was addled and needed more rest.

“A wolf has other wolves to take care of him,” said Mama. “But you're a human, and humans need rest.”

Mama kept me in bed for a full week, and whenever I tried to escape, Milk the guard goat ratted me out. Goldie tried to visit every day, sometimes twice a day, but Mama would not allow her in until I was fully rested and my ankle was healed. When she was satisfied with my recovery, Mama allowed a short visit. Goldie marched in carrying a clay pot. She held it out to me, beaming, and I noticed that she had several red welts on her face and arms.

“Guess what?” She shoved the pot into my lap and I opened it up. It was honey.

“I can charm bees now!” She scratched at a welt on her cheek. “Almost. A few didn't take to my charming so much, but that doesn't matter, because guess what? I found something even better than honey. Mummy! My mummy came to find me! And I must have found some kind of magic, because she loves me, Red! She says she loves me more than anything in the entire world and that I should never run away ever again!”

“That's wonderful,” I said.

“And guess what? Mummy says we can stay on The Mountain if I can find enough honey hives. I've found five, not including yours. You still need to put your name on it, though. We're going to sell the honey so I can stay here and be your best friend in the whole world forever as long as you live. So live a long time, okay?”

She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I got a mouthful of her curls, which made me sneeze.

“All right, Goldie girl,” said Granny. “Back away before you smother my only grandchild with that hair of yours.”

Goldie released me from her choke hold but leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Your granny's a little scary.”

“I know,” I said. “She
is
a witch, after all.”

“I heard that,” said Granny. “Now shoo. I want to talk to my grandchild alone.”

Goldie scurried out of the room but then popped her head back in and said, “I'm glad you didn't die.”

The room was very still and quiet after Goldie left. Granny hadn't spoken much since I'd been here. She slept a lot, and when she was awake, it seemed as though every movement and every word took a great deal of energy, so she said and did only the things that really mattered. It seemed a wise way to live, in any case.

“You went on quite an adventure,” she said.

I nodded. “I met a dwarf,” I said.

“At last! Was he terribly grumpy?”

“Worse than you in the morning.”

“Hmph,” said Granny. “Did you take him by the beard, then?”

“I did,” I said. “His name is Borlen, and wouldn't you know it? He's the same dwarf you took by the beard all those years ago.”

“You don't say!”

I nodded again. “He's two hundred and seventy-six years old! Did you know that dwarves can live for a thousand years?”

“I didn't!” said Granny.

“And do you know what they do with the gems they find? They eat them!”

“
Eat
them?” Granny seemed genuinely shocked, which was rare as rubies. “Maybe that's why they're so grouchy. He was a nasty little brute, that dwarf.”

“Perhaps he wouldn't have been so nasty if you hadn't stolen all his gems.”

“I didn't steal anything!” Granny said indignantly. “That little vagabond stole them from the prince!”

I shook my head. “The prince stole them from Borlen. He was only getting them back.”

Granny's cheeks turned rosy. “Well. How was I supposed to know? He was a perfect little beast to me.”

Speaking of beasts…

“Borlen showed me some Red Roses, ones that will make you live forever. They were made by a powerful enchantress.”

“Oh?” Granny shifted uncomfortably.

“Granny, why did you turn Beauty into a beast?”