Red Wolfe (2 page)

“
Entrer
,” she politely said glancing at the clock on the table beside her bed. It read seven o’clock.  Good, she thought. It was still early. The woman from before entered and in her hands she held a tray.

“
Dîner
,” the round woman announced, setting the platter down and leaving.

The meal was delicious. On the warped, wooden tray were a hearty stew of
ratatouille
and an assortment of rich breads. Ellena happily smiled when she reached for the pitcher of red, dinner wine that had also been brought.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she muttered.

One glass went down, followed by a second and Ellena could already feel her cheeks burning as a warmth spread through her body. She forced herself to unpack, or at least pull her old faded red shirt and gray sweat pants out and change.

“Now, let’s get down to business.”

Talking to herself was a habit she had picked up as a writer and it was a custom that had earned her many weird looks throughout her career. She found her pen and notepad and set to work scribbling away, but all the while making sure not to neglect her poor, lonely cup of wine. She wrote of the village, the mountains, and the inn keeper. What she had seen, smelt, and experienced. There was too much to remember and her fingers could not move fast enough.

Close to midnight she released a content sigh and closed her notebook. Her energy was gone and so was the wine
, a sign that it was time for bed. She was preparing to nestle under the thick blanket and finally call it a night when she saw the mysterious basket. It was quietly sitting by the fireplace. Had she put it there? She couldn’t recall. She stared at it and it seemed to stare back. Red and orange shadows from the fire danced across its surface, almost making it look alive, like it was moving. A white handkerchief covered whatever it was holding and for a moment she thought of looking. She gazed at it for some time, blinking to focus her hazy vision. 

She thought of peeking, just a quick glance. After all, i
t could help to find
Madame
Danielle. Ellena’s feet touch the floor and the wood released a loud creak. The abrupt noise seemed to return her senses and she laid back down. Right now she was too tired and snooping about into other people’s belongings was never a hobby that Ellena fancied. Whatever it was it could wait. After all, it probably didn’t conceal anything that exciting.

      
    Chapter Two

Pecking. That’s all that Ellena could hear.
Peck, peck, peck.
She hid further under her covers, even covering her head with the pillow, but the atrocious sound carried on. She groaned and rolled over, her pillow falling to the floor.

A bright, red cardinal was dancing along her window seal
above her bed and striking at the glass. She sat up and watched the silly creature fuss about. It seemed to want something. A few pieces of bread had been left behind on her plate so Ellena scooped them up and slowly crawled to the window. She undid the latch and gently pushed it open. The bird went still, but did not fly away.

“Here you go,” she dropped the pieces of bread
. The cardinal bounced over and began to peck at the crumbs. She watched him for some time, inhaling the crisp mountain air. It was early morning and a heavy fog had settled around the hills. Some of the mountain peaks were so tall that they broke high above the dense mist while others were completely enveloped as the rising sun’s rays fought their ways through the clouds.

She could stay like this forever.

Her blissful moment was interrupted when another knock rang.  The inn keeper was bringing her breakfast. This meal was just as grand as dinner. Different jams and cheeses with buttery toast covered the plate with both a glass of milk and orange juice. It did not take her long to pick up her knife and began to devour everything. The brie cheese, she quickly decided, was her favorite.

A hot shower sounded wonderful after such an exuberant meal and
Ellena gathered her soap, shampoo, and other essentials before heading out. The little bird curiously watched her crack the door open and looked down the hall. It was just as empty and quiet as when she had arrived. Perhaps there were no other boarders, she thought. This place was probably not one that many tourists found.

The washroom, she pleasantly discovered, was only two doors down from her own. A
cozy little sign hung from a nail on the door, painted a dark, purple with the word
toilette
written across it in engraved silver letters. Ellena gently touched the little depictions of farm animals that had been etched into it.

She knocked first, just to make
sure that no one was in there and when she didn’t hear a reply she stepped inside. There wasn’t any shower, only a great bear claw tub, a sink, and one solitary toilet.  It wasn’t much, but it was all she needed. Her clothes were left in a pile as she filled the tub with water and slid inside. In the dense silence, Ellena watched the little droplets fall from the tub facet and splash into the steamy water. She had never experienced such stillness. Even living alone in the city, the noise of cars, televisions, and blaring cellphones filled the air no matter where you were, but here she heard nothing. She bathed quickly and hurried to the sink to brush her teeth. Redressed and fully refreshed, she tiptoed back. When she reached her room, she found her tray gone and a cup of hot tea waiting for her.

Her fire was blazing again, which was probably due to
Madame
Catherine. She took her time getting ready, sitting by the fireplace, sipping tea and brushing out her tangled mop of hair. As she began to unpack her belongings, she noticed her little cardinal was still on the window seal. Ellena pushed the window open further, hoping that the tiny creature would pop inside and to her delight he did! He squeezed through and flew to a small, porcelain figurine sitting atop the fireplace mantel. There he settled down and ruffled his red feathers.

With her hair finally dry and loosely braided to the side, Ellena turned her attention to her outfit for the day. Her wool pants would do nicely in this weather, along
with a thick white sweater. Of course she would also be wearing her red coat along with a matching scarf and cap.

“I’m going out,” she playfully said to her little companion as she finished dressing and applied some light make up. She had never liked to wear a lot of the stuff, but a little red lipstick went a long way
.  She put on her blue gloves and threw another log on the fire from a stack in the corner. “I’ll leave the window open for you.”

Slinging her blue bag across her neck,
she was ready to leave. “The basket!” she cried, scooping it up before hurrying out the door.

It was snowing again. The cobble street was slick with melted snowflakes that had turned brown and
mushy from being trampled upon when Ellena stepped from
La Petite Masion.

Her book would take place in a town like this, she decided as
she let her feet take her where they pleased. A young woman about her age was sweeping the lane just in front of a shoe repair shop and Ellena carefully maneuvered closer.

“
Excusez-moi
,” Ellena asked. “Do you know a
Madame
Danielle?”

The girl shook her head
and returned to her sweeping. Ellena shifted the basket in her arms and began down a small hill. As she rounded the corner she lost her footing and slipped but much to her surprise, she did not fall. A hand had shot out to rescue her, the hand of an old man, clean shaven, bundled up and smoking a pipe.

“
Merci
,” she said.

“Outsiders should be careful here,” he grumbled in a very thick accent. “Especially pretty young girls like yourself.” He clutched his cane and starting down the hill.
 

“Do you know
Madame
Danielle?” she asked, running up beside him.

“I do. I can see that you have her basket.”

“Wonderful! Do you know where I can find her?”

“No, I do not. She appears and vanishes as she pleases, but I do have a question for you. What’s a foreigner doing in a place like this?”

“Research for a book,” she smiled.

“Must be an odd book,” he replied.

“Well it’s actually about the old folklore,
Little Red Riding Hood
. I came to talk about people’s different perspectives and views on the tale. Its origins are so shrouded with mystery that I’d thought it’d be a challenge to explore it.”

“If a challenge is what you want, you’ve certainly got it.”

“May I ask you some questions about the myth?” she sheepishly asked.

He turned to look at her and then took an abrupt left down a
narrow alley. “Do as you wish.”

She didn’t follow him right away. From her time traveling she knew never t
o venture from the main road, no matter how innocent others appeared.

“No need to worry,” the old man bellowed when he realized she was not following him. “There’s a
tea shop down this alley. I go there every morning.”

Ellena
kept her distance as she trailed behind and surely enough a little run down shop appeared just a few feet ahead and the old man removed his hat before entering. He had already taken a seat by an open window by the time she joined him.

“I very much appreciate it,” she set her basket down, pul
ling a pen and pad from her bag as the shop keeper came to take their order.

“
Le thé au gingembre,
” he muttered.

“
Ginger tea? That sounds lovely, make it two
,”
Ellena said. “All right
Monsieur
…?”

“Ansel.”

“
Monsieur
Ansel, what is your take on the tale?”

The waiter returned and set down two steamy cups of ginger tea.
Monsieur
Ansel took his time slowly dropping two cubes of sugar into his drink, followed by a dabble of cream. Ellena did the same, only she eagerly plunged what was about four cubes of sugar and a good amount of cream into her cup.

“
You spoil fine things by adding too much stuff to it,” he grumbled and Ellena grinned. “As for your story, the original version has been changed so many times it’s nearly too muddled to decipher, but I can tell you some things, regardless of what version you read, may not be true. My great grandmother use to tell me all kinds of stories when I was child. One of course, was the very we are discussing now. Only the wolf was not an actually beast, but a man, an arrogant fellow who preyed on young, beautiful girls. The story goes that he was quite the handsome chap, but completely rotten to the core. He would lure poor girls out to the woods to their death and they were never found again.

“You mean like a werewolf? In some accounts I’ve read there was one of those.”

“No, just a regular man I suppose. Of course because of his actions I’m sure they made him out to be a beast.” He took a sip of his tea and continued. “I’m sure you know how tales change with time. It may have started out with a man who was called
wolf
or that he acted like one and over time the story eventually changes to depict him as an actual animal.”

“I see,” she said.

“He didn’t give much warning of where he would strike next, but they all knew him from his crimson colored cape, or at least that’s the tale my great grandmother told me.”

“
He
wore the cape? What an interesting twist.” She made sure to scribble it down.

“Apparently, it was believed to be red from the blood of all young maidens he had killed,” he chuckled. “I’m sure it’s not true, just a wives
’ tale to keep young girls from running off with the first handsome bloke they met.”

“What became of him?”

“I suppose he was killed or that’s how all the stories end, all of them have that in common at least.”

Ellena was fiercely writing. This was exactly what she needed.

“You take what I’ve told you with a grain of salt,” he took another sip. “I’m sure it’s just another version to a very obscure legend.”

Ellena finished her tea and spent some time talking with
Monsieur
Ansel about the village and his life. He was a very interesting man and even older than she thought. He had served in the war and had seen many things in his time. His grandmother had lived in this village until the day that she died and, looking for a quiet place to settle, came back here. He now worked as the town baker and as Ellena finished her tea and stood to leave she promised to come by soon and try one of his handmade pastries.