Red's Untold Tale (30 page)

The wind shifted direction, bringing with it Violet's honeysuckle scent. I reached in my quiver for an arrow, surprised to see the shining silver tip.
Oh, no! If I have the
silver-tipped arrow that means Peter slipped it back into my quiver. Which means Peter is out there hunting the wolves without it!
I swallowed hard and rolled back my shoulders as I ran toward
the tree.

Violet leaned against a giant tree trunk, slowly sinking to the ground as her knees buckled beneath her. On a knoll ten feet in front of her loomed the wolf.

It was enormous, at least three times the size of any wolf I'd ever seen. Long gray fur stuck up on its back, and its snout wrinkled menacingly. It pulled back its lips and let out a low
growl that seemed to reach out and seize my heart. Each of its gleaming razor-sharp teeth was larger than one of my hands! It was as if the creature didn't belong in this realm at all, but
rather someplace far away, where wolves were bigger, more ferocious, and deadlier.

I had no doubt that this was the monster that had murdered Amos Slade, and that it wouldn't stop with him. It acknowledged my presence with a twitch of its ear, yet it kept its wild,
amber-colored eyes trained on Violet.

Fear paralyzed me, yet somehow I managed to pull back my bow and take a step toward Violet. She let out a scream when the wolf lunged forward and a strained whimper when it froze about four feet
from us. It was close, much too close. I cringed at the stench of blood on its warm, steady breath. It reached out its enormous paws and stretched out its claws, reaching for Violet. Its fangs
seemed to grow before my terrified eyes.

My eyelids twitched, wanting to shut out the horror, but I forced myself to stare at it. “Don't even think about it, wolf,” I said with as much confidence as I could
muster.

Keeping the silver-tipped arrow aimed at the beast's heart, I knelt next to Violet and told her, “Get under my cloak. It will protect us. You must believe.” She huddled against
me as I draped the cloak over her body. Her trembles shook me until I couldn't tell the difference between hers and mine.

The clouds parted and set free the Wolfstime moon, as full and bright as the one in my dreams. For the first time, the wolf's amber eyes met mine. It was as if they were lit from inside by
torches. Spellbound, I couldn't look away. I didn't dare breathe.

My heart beat strong and hard, sending my blood gushing through my veins. From somewhere deep inside, I heard the voice from my Wolfstime dreams, reminding me to breathe. I inhaled deeply. As I
exhaled, I felt the air leave my body and flow out into the night, becoming one with the world.

In that instant, in the brilliant moonlight, I let my arrow fly.

Time seemed to stand still, and I wondered if I'd somehow missed. Then the wolf took two steps forward. It bowed its mighty head and fell over on its side with a cloud of dust and a
terrible thud. Its eyelids slowly lowered as if it were being lulled to sleep. Before they closed, I saw that the glow was gone from its eyes.

As I lowered my weapon, I heard shouts and glimpsed flashes of fire. I had to blink twice to make sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me when I saw Peter and the hound behind us, running
up the knoll.

“Red! Red, are you all right?” Peter asked, and he rushed over to me while the dog took refuge behind a bush. “We heard the screams, and when we got to the clearing, Beatrice
told me you'd gone after the wolf!” His handsome face was wrought with concern as he looked me over.

Violet came out from under my cloak. “She did,” she said, her big brown eyes glistening with tears. “And she saved my life.” She pointed straight ahead, and Peter held up
his torch, illuminating the wolf's lifeless body.

Peter's jaw slacked open. He handed his torch to Violet and, with a death grip on his bow, cautiously approached the beast. “I've never seen anything like it,” he said
breathlessly. “It's…enormous.”

“It's dead, right?” I asked.

Peter nodded. “Red, you slayed the wolf. Straight through the heart. It was a perfect shot,” he said as he pulled out the arrow. He handed it to me. The blood-covered silver tip
shone brilliantly in the moonlight.

I knew it made no sense for me to cry. I should be happy the wolf was dead. However, as soon as Violet headed up the road to her house, assuring me that she'd have her father and the other
hunters go back for the wolf's body, warm tears spilled down my face. I felt Peter's hand around mine, holding on until we saw the lights of my home. He stopped on the trail, as
always.

“Walk me all the way home, Peter.”

“You sure?” he asked, and I nodded and took his hand again.

We crossed the path, and he held the torch high to light up the stairs as we climbed them. I took a breath and smiled. “It's going to be all right,” I said, more to myself than
him. “Everything is going to be all right.” Then I knocked on the door, shouting for Granny to let us in.

We heard the banging and sliding of wood on metal and, finally, the door swung open. Granny's gray hair fell long and wild past her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed. She cinched the
belt on her robe as she glowered at the pair of us. “What in the land—?”

“Red killed the wolf,” Peter said, skipping all small talk.

I held up the silver-tipped arrow for her to see. She looked at him and next at me. Then she took the arrow and ran her finger over the blood-stained tip. “Can it be so?”

I nodded. “It's dead, Granny.”

She blinked several times, and finally pushed the door open wider. “Well, don't just stand out there like a couple of idiots.” After we filed inside, she shut the door behind
us. “I'm going to get dressed. I'm sure our guest would like some cider. Will you see to that, Red?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I stammered. “Coming right up.” Maybe if I hurried, Granny wouldn't scare Peter off.

While I filled the kettle, I gazed out the little kitchen window. In the western sky, I spotted the pale, full moon for a mere second before it faded into the horizon, not to be seen until the
next Wolfstime. The sun began to rise, its yellow-orange glow reminding me of the wolf's eyes. There had been so much mystery in those eyes.

Soon after, Peter poked his handsome head in the kitchen and grinned. For having been alone with my grandmother, I couldn't help noticing that he appeared awfully merry.
“
Hallo
, Red. There's quite a crowd out here, and they're all asking for you. Looks like my sweetheart is a hero.”

He called me his
sweetheart
. For a second or two, I melted like a pat of butter in a hot skillet. But then Granny showed up right behind him—thankfully in her clothes,
now—and I felt certain she'd overheard. I steeled myself for having to deal with her wrath.

I wanted Granny to understand how wonderful Peter was, and to help her see that I loved him. Deep inside, I longed for her to know those truths about me. I wanted her to accept Peter. I wanted
her to accept me.

But oddly, and thankfully, Granny was grinning. She whisked past Peter and started unwrapping baked goods and arranging them on plates. “Well, what are you waiting for, child? Get out
there!”

Peter shepherded me out to the living room where, sure enough, a crowd of villagers waited—and more were arriving. Mayor Filbert stepped forward and patted my shoulder. “Here she is,
folks. The heroine who saved the life of young Violet Roberts.” The thunder of applause filled the little cottage.

I didn't have a chance to respond before Violet's mother pushed through the throng. With tears in her eyes, she squeezed my hand and said, “You are a very brave young lady. We
cannot thank you enough, Red.”

Beatrice came over next, thanking me in between bites of one of Granny's muffins. Granny and Peter were already circulating through the crowd, handing out baked treats. Florence still
looked pale and haggard, and yet she hugged me with surprising strength.

With her tangled locks and dirty, torn skirt, Violet appeared shabbier and more pitiful than I'd ever fathomed possible, even in my most spiteful daydreams. “I was wrong about you,
Red,” she said, loud enough for our classmates to hear. “I'm glad we're friends now.”

I smiled beatifically at her. “Yes, you were most definitely wrong about me.”

A few minutes later, Peter brought me a drink and said something about taking his hound to the stream for some water.

“You know, you're going to have to name that dog someday,” I said.

“Already have. His name is Copper. I thought of it when I was making the new cross pendant for you.”

I smiled. “I like it. It suits him.”

Peter slipped out, and the others gathered around me, thanking me and talking about how brave I was. I grinned until my cheeks ached, but after a little while longer, I felt suffocated by all
the people and all the attention. I searched for Peter and found him outside on the rope swing.

“So, when I was in the kitchen, you called me something you've never called me,” I prompted, pulling the swing toward me and then giving him a hearty push.

“A hero,” he said.

“No, something else…”

He dragged his boot in the dirt, slowing to a near stop. After he wiped a tendril of hair off my cheek, he eased me onto his lap. “Sweetheart,” he said.

I leaned back, melding into him. “Yes, that's it,” I whispered.

The front door swung open, and Granny hollered, “Red, get back in here, now. I need some help keeping all these folks properly fed.” She wagged her finger at Peter. “And as for
you, you wastrel, there will be no hanky-panky with my granddaughter, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Peter said, helping me off his lap.

I sighed and shrugged. “Sorry.”

“It's all right,” he said, chuckling softly. “She's not nearly as ruthless as my brothers. Go.”

My brief tryst with Peter gave me the boost I needed to dive back into the bustling cottage. I hadn't even made it to the kitchen to fill a tray with refreshments when a loud rap sounded
on the front door. Granny opened it, and when I craned my neck, I saw Violet's father and a group of men standing on the porch, long-faced and wide-eyed.

“We went where Violet told us the wolf was,” Mr. Roberts said, “and we could tell precisely where it fell. But the body…it's gone.”

Peter pushed through the men. “What are you saying? How can that be possible?”

“Someone must have gotten to it before us,” Peter's father said, holding his palms up.

I started making my way toward Granny and Peter, but an eerie sound stopped me in my tracks. The world around me seemed to stand still and silent, except for a faint echo. With a shudder, I met
Granny's eyes across the room, and I knew in my heart that she'd heard it, too.

It was the howl of a lone wolf.