Page 1 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

One

O nce upon a time, in a kingdom where shadows danced beneath ancient trees, a young man named Red ventured through the forest. On this moonless eve, he travelled deep into the woods, his tread hushed by the dense blanket of autumn’s castoffs.

Red pulled his crimson riding hood tighter around his slender frame, seeking warmth against the biting chill. The worn fabric, soft from decades of wear, was his most treasured possession—a constant reminder of the mother he’d never known.

He trudged onwards, his eyes darting between the gnarled trunks. The forest seemed to close in, branches reaching out like grasping fingers. He shivered, not entirely from the cold.

A twig snapped.

Red froze, his breath catching in his throat. He peered into the inky darkness, straining to see beyond the veil of night.

Nothing.

He shook his head, chuckling nervously. “You’re a fool, Red. A damned fool,” he muttered, resuming his journey with quickened steps.

But the feeling of being watched persisted, prickling the back of his neck. Red’s fingers twitched, seeking the familiar weight of his bow, presently strapped to his back in its quiver.

Another sound—a rustle of leaves, too deliberate to be the wind.

Red’s heart thundered in his chest. He spun, searching for the source. “Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice sharp with false bravado.

Silence answered, heavy and oppressive.

He turned back, only to halt abruptly. There, in the gloom ahead, two pinpricks of amber light gleamed. They blinked, and Red’s blood ran cold.

Eyes. Watching him.

Red’s breath caught in his throat as he stared into those magnificent eyes. They seemed to glow with an otherworldly light, drawing him in despite his terror. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink.

Golden irises vanished behind dark lids, reappearing with predatory intent. Red’s breath hitched, gooseflesh prickling along his arms beneath his cloak.

“W-who’s there?” he called out, cursing the tremble in his voice. He cleared his throat, trying to summon the haughty tone usually so naturally deployed. “Show yourself, you coward!”

A low rumble answered him. Not quite a growl, but something deeper, more primal. The sound vibrated through the air, sending leaves quivering on their branches.

Red’s heart hammered against his ribs. He took a step back, foliage crunching beneath his feet. The eyes followed his movement, never wavering.

“I’m warning you,” Red said, steadier now, fuelled by desperation. “I’m armed and I know how to use my weapon.”

The eyes narrowed, and Red could have sworn he saw amusement in their depths. Another rumble, this one almost like a chuckle, echoed through the trees.

Red’s fear gave way to indignation. How dare this…

whatever it was… laugh at him? He was Red, the Queen’s second-best archer, feared and respected throughout the Kingdom of Falchovari.

Well, throughout some of the kingdom, at least. Maybe.

Regardless, he wouldn’t be mocked by some beast in the woods .

“Right, that’s it,” he snapped, reaching for his bow. “You asked for this, you mangy—”

But before he could nock an arrow, the eyes moved. They rose higher, then higher still, until they towered above him. Red’s mouth went dry as he realised just how massive the creature before him was.

A shape formed around those burning eyes. Broad shoulders, powerful limbs, a muzzle filled with gleaming teeth. The beast stepped forward, moonlight filtering through the canopy to reveal dark grey fur and gigantic paws.

Red’s fingers went slack on his bow. He’d heard tales of the great wolves that roamed these woods, but he’d always dismissed them as fairy tales. As he stood there, heart racing, he realised just how unprepared he truly was.

His prowess as a hunter extended no further than wild swine, though such prizes had become as elusive as mythical beasts of late.

Panic clawed at him—what was he even doing out here?

He’d fancied himself as a fearsome adventurer, yet here he was, a child playing at being brave in a world far too dangerous for him.

The wolf tilted its head, regarding Red with those deep orange pools that seemed to see right through him, stripping away his defences and leaving him bare.

In them, Red saw something. Something unsettling. Something… hungry. Something… human?

Red’s hand trembled as he reached for his bow, but before he could grasp it, the beast burst from the shadows, lunging towards him, its jaws snapping mere inches from Red’s face.

He stumbled backwards, tripping over a gnarled root and crashing to the forest floor.

The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, leaving him gasping.

Even more tragically, it knocked his bow from his hands, sending it flying across the forest floor to be devoured by the shadows.

The beast loomed over him, its hot breath ghosting across Red’s skin. He scrambled backwards, leaves and twigs catching in his long hair and cloak .

“Stay back, monster!” Red shouted. He fumbled for a rock, anything to defend himself.

The wolf growled, low and menacing. It stalked forward, muscles rippling beneath its thick grey coat.

Blood rushed through Red’s ears as the predator’s bulk eclipsed the moonlight.

He shrank back, the rough bark scoring his palms as he flattened himself against the ancient oak.

Fuck. He was trapped. Those smouldering golden eyes bored into him, stripping away his confidence until all that remained was a trembling husk of a boy.

The wolf tensed to spring. Then a deep, gravelly voice cut through the night.

“Well now. Don’t you smell delicious?”

Red blinked. Had he gone mad with fright? But the wolf had paused, its amber eyes now filled with an unsettling intelligence.

“Did you… speak?” Red whispered, scarcely believing his own words.

“Aye, I did,” the wolf rumbled, as rough as tree bark. “Name’s Wilhelm. Though most call me Wim.”

A wolf is talking to me. A wolf that wants to eat me is talking to me, and telling me his name.

Red gaped for a moment before clamping his mouth shut, his mind reeling. He stared at the wolf. “You’re… you’re a…”

“A wildling. A shapeshifter,” Wim the wolf finished, a hint of amusement in his tone. “And you, little one, smell delicious.”

The beast’s hot breath washed over Red’s face, carrying the scent of earth and something primal.

“D-delicious?” Red stammered, in barely a whisper. “Me? I’m not… I mean, you surely don’t mean to…”

The wolf’s lips curled back, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. His eyes seemed to glow brighter, filled with a vicious hunger that sent chills down Red’s spine.

“Oh, but I can,” he growled, tone deepening to a guttural rumble. “And I will.”

The wolf lunged forward, jaws snapping inches from Red’s throat. Red yelped and tried to scramble away, but his back was pressed firmly against the tree. There was nowhere to run.

The creature’s massive paw pinned Red’s shoulder, claws digging into his flesh through the fabric of his cloak. Red whimpered, terror coursing through his veins as the wolf’s muzzle pressed against his neck, inhaling deeply.

“Aye, you’ll make quite the tasty snack.”

This was how he was to die? Alone in the woods, mutilated by an animal? Would anyone mourn him, back at the palace? Would they even bother to send a search party?

“Tasty snack? I am but skin and bones! Please!” Red begged, tears stinging his eyes. “Don’t—”

But the wolf wasn’t listening. His eyes had taken on a feral gleam, all traces of humanity vanishing. He snarled, saliva dripping from his jaws as he pressed closer, teeth grazing Red’s skin.

Red squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable pain of those fangs tearing into his flesh.

Suddenly he had one of his flashes of brilliance.

“Wait!”

The wolf paused, his breath hot against Red’s face.

“How about instead of one tasty snack, I offer you two?”

A low rumble in reply. The beast stepped backwards, creating an inch of space between them.

“Go on.”

“Earlier this eve, I spied two idiots following the river. The bumbling fools have clearly never ventured through the forest before.” Neither had Red, but he was pulling off the feat quite nicely. For the most part.

The beast did not look convinced.

“Two young men. They would make for a far more delicious meal than me! Their flesh looked supple and… juicy! And they’re… as fat as pigs!” he invented. “Rolls and rolls of meat, ready for the munching! ”

It was partially true; the two men had been attractive. The gloriously tall redhead with the gorgeous scruff of beard—who his companion had called Hansel—had looked particularly scrumptious to Red.

“The tall one… his thighs looked especially biteable. You wouldn’t want to miss out on him.” Red wouldn’t have minded a taste of them himself, come to think of it.

The wolf leaned forward to graze his muzzle against Red’s cheek. “Aye, might be I’ll feast three times tonight.”

Red swallowed, his throat dry as parchment. He desperately searched for a reason that might save his skin. “You don’t know which direction they went! West or east. I never said.”

“Their trail will be strong. I’ll find it easily enough.”

“But… why risk it? Oh, and did I mention one of them was carrying a rabbit?”

At the mention of the word ‘rabbit,’ the wolf’s ears perked up. His orb-like eyes gleamed with interest, and a fragile spark of hope ignited in Red’s chest.

“A rabbit, eh?” he rumbled, low and considering. “Fresh kill, not rotted by the forest?”

Red nodded eagerly, seizing upon this thread of possibility. “Yes, freshly caught. Plump and tender, I’d wager. Far more appetising than my scrawny frame, wouldn’t you agree?”

The wolf’s gaze roved over Red’s body, as if reassessing his potential as a meal. Red held his breath.

“Aye, have it your way,” the beast snarled.

“But mark me well… if my belly isn’t full after, I’m coming for you next.

It won’t matter if you walk one mile or ten.

Make no mistake. I’ll hunt you down.” The terrifying creature leaned in, his toothy mouth pressing directly into Red’s ear.

“Because you, boy, have the most uniquely delicious scent I’ve ever smelled. ”

“You won’t be hungry,” Red promised, with as much conviction as he could muster .

“Aye, you’ve no idea how deep my hunger runs. ’Specially when there’s such sweet prey before me.”

Then, the beast winked .

He raked his wolfish eyes over the length of Red’s body. “By the way. You should know that I always play with my food.”

Red’s heart pounded like a drum as the creature’s words echoed in his ears. The wolf’s hot breath lingered on his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. A shiver of… terror? Partially maybe, but also… something else.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then, with a low growl, the wolf stepped back. His eyes never left Red’s face as he retreated into the shadows. The massive grey form melted into the darkness, leaving only the fading sound of rustling leaves in his wake.

Red remained frozen against the tree, scarcely daring to breathe. He strained his ears, listening for any sign of the wolf’s return. But the forest had fallen silent, as if holding its breath along with him.

“Well, great job, Red,” he muttered. “Three days into the journey and you’ve run out of rations, gotten lost twice, and now you’ve attracted the attention of a wolf that wants to tear you apart, possibly in more ways than one. Really, Red, you may as well lie down here and wait to die.”

The forest around him seemed to mock his predicament, the rustling leaves sounding suspiciously like laughter.

When Queen Schon had called him into the throne room to announce his royal quest, he couldn’t believe his luck.

Finally, a chance to prove himself, to escape his mundane life locked in the palace, to have an adventure , just like the storybooks.

But now, rationless and likely to become wolf food, he was rather missing the safe comfort of his attic bedroom.

Adventuring was not what he’d imagined, so far.

But there was no choice but to press on. He had to complete the Queen’s instructions.

Like everything else in his life, the choice had been made for him .

For one mad moment, Red pictured himself refusing the Queen—telling her that he wasn’t going. Though he supposed it would be hard to appreciate her expression once his head had parted ways with his shoulders.

The wind picked up, roaring a howl, and Red shivered.

Who knew the forest could get so damned cold at night? Not Red.

He pushed himself off the tree, wincing as his muscles protested. The encounter with ‘Wim’ had left him shaken, but he couldn’t afford to linger. He needed to move, to put as much distance between himself and the wolf as possible.

Red took a tentative step forward, then another. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to keep going. He scanned the forest floor, searching for his bow. It had to be here somewhere…

A glint of moonlight caught his eye. There, half hidden beneath a pile of leaves, was his precious weapon. Red snatched it up and clutched it to his chest like a lifeline. A small measure of his confidence returned.

He set off through the trees, his steps quick and light. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every rustle of leaves a potential predator. Red’s eyes darted from side to side, his body tense and ready to flee at the slightest provocation.

Red’s mind whirred, replaying the conversation he’d had with the wolf.

Thank goodness he’d seen those two young men earlier.

However, he’d certainly embellished a fair bit.

The pair of them looked even skinnier than he did—which made sense, as they looked to be commoners, and Red at least had access to the palace kitchen scraps.

Would the wolf come back, angrier and hungrier than before?

And what had he meant by ‘playing with his food?’ Reading people was one of Red’s strengths, and he wielded it like a weapon. But his powers of intuition didn’t quite reach to deducing the words of wolves, apparently.

Regardless, the memory of those amber eyes raking over his body wasn’t entirely unpleasant …

This is the starvation talking.

Red shook his head, trying to clear it of such dangerous thoughts. He needed to focus on survival, not… whatever that was.

He pushed on through the night, determined to lose the predator in the depths of the forest. But no matter how far he walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that those eyes were still watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.