Page 13 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Seven

R ed’s legs burned with exhaustion as he stumbled over yet another tree root. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the dense forest. He’d lost track of how many hours they’d been searching, his feet aching with each step.

Ahead, Wim and Astrid loped along in their wolf forms, noses to the ground. Every so often, Wim would glance back, slowing his pace to ensure Red was keeping up. Astrid, however, seemed single-minded in her pursuit, her black fur a blur as she darted between trees.

“Astrid!” Wim’s gruff bark echoed through the woods. “Slow down. We need to stay together.”

The wolf growled but complied, allowing Red to catch up. He leaned against a tree, chest heaving as he gulped down grateful breaths. One thing was now for certain—Red was far slower than a wolf.

“Any sign?” Red asked, voice hoarse from hours of calling Tobias’s name.

Wim shook his massive head, concern evident in his amber eyes. Astrid whined, pacing impatiently.

They pressed on, the forest growing denser. Red’s foot caught on a bramble, and he stumbled, barely catching himself. Wim was at his side in an instant, steadying him with his bulk.

“Thanks,” Red muttered, flushing at his clumsiness .

Suddenly, Astrid’s ears perked up. She let out a series of excited yips, bounding forward with renewed energy. Wim and Red exchanged a look before hurrying after her.

They broke through the treeline to find a small, gurgling stream. Astrid paced along the bank, sniffing frantically.

“She’s found something,” Wim explained. “Tobias’s scent. It’s stronger here.”

Oh, please let us find him. Red’s tired legs wouldn’t handle many more miles.

His heart raced with a mixture of hope and apprehension as they followed the stream uphill.

The terrain grew rockier, the incline steeper.

His calves screamed in protest, but he pushed on, determined not to slow them down.

As they rounded a bend, Astrid let out a triumphant howl.

There, nestled in a steep, vertical cliff, was a narrow opening in the rock face.

The cliff rose abruptly from the flat terrain, a fortress of stone that seemed to scrape the very sky.

A few stubborn wildflowers found purchase in the crevices, adding pops of colour to the grey stone.

The two wolves wasted no time approaching the crack.

“Tobias?” Wim called, the name echoing off the stone. “Are you in there, friend?”

They all waited, breaths held, straining to hear any response from within the cave.

Nothing.

“He’s in there!” Astrid pawed at the pup-sized crack. “I can feel it in my bones.” She pressed her furry head into the gap, managing to burrow it a fair way in before she met resistance.

After a pitiful growl of frustration, Astrid shifted.

Red averted his gaze as her fur melted away, revealing dark skin and toned muscles.

Shooting Red a strange look, she huffed and snatched up her pack from where it had tumbled from her back to the ground.

She yanked out a simple tunic, pulling it over her head.

“I’ll be able to squeeze through now,” she said, dropping to her knees .

Red glanced at Wim. He ought to stop his friend—the tall, broad woman was well-built, and was surely going to get stuck.

But Wim only watched as Astrid’s short coils brushed the top of the crevice while she attempted to pass through. Despite her twisting this way and that, her shoulders caught on the rough stone. “Blast it all!”

Red chewed his bottom lip, studying the gap. His shoulders were narrower than Astrid’s, his frame more slight. The space looked tight, but… He touched his red riding hood, drawing comfort from the familiar fabric. If Tobias was trapped in there, scared and alone…

“I could fit through,” Red said, stepping forward.

Wim’s growl rumbled through the clearing. “No.” He stepped between Red and the cave entrance. “Too risky. Those rocks could give way at any moment, trapping you in there—”

“Then what’s your alternative?” Red snapped. Frustration simmered within him. Clearly, Wim didn’t think he was capable. “Leave him in there? I’m smaller than both of you. Let me try.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Wim shifted back to human form, helping himself to a shawl from Astrid’s pack and hastily wrapping it around his waist. His jaw clenched as he said, “We don’t know what’s in there, Red.”

“ Toby is in there, Wim!” Astrid practically snarled the words, looking between Wim and Red. “If he wants to try, let him!”

Red crossed his arms, meeting Wim’s worried gaze. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You get permanently stuck between the rock slabs and die a slow, painful death.

Wim’s shoulders slumped. He stepped away from the cave. “Fine. If you want to try, I won’t stop you.” His voice wavered, brown eyes wide.

Just what was his problem?

Red’s pulse jumped skittishly, like a startled hare, and as he shrugged off his pack and quiver, he hesitated over the golden arrow inside. The Queen’s words echoed in his mind… “Guard it with your life, or forfeit that life instead.” He tucked it carefully beneath his other supplies.

Red stepped towards the crack.

“Your hood needs to come off, Red,” Wim said softly. “It’ll catch and tear.”

Red’s fingers tightened around the red fabric. Take it off? He never took it off, apart from when he needed to bathe. It was his mother’s only gift to him, and his shield from the world. It had protected him through every nightmare, every cruel word from the Queen, every lonely night.

“It doesn’t tear. It never has, not in all these winters.”

“Do you really want to test that theory?”

Wim stared at him, concern spreading across his face as Red fisted his cloak.

It’s just a riding hood, Red.

With trembling hands, Red unclasped the hood.

When Wim took it reverently, folding it with careful movements, a strange warmth flooded Red’s system, combating the chill from removing the garment.

Red approached the narrow gap between the rocks. The darkness within seemed to pulse, to breathe. His skin prickled.

Don’t think about being trapped. Don’t think about being crushed. Don’t think about the fact you’re meant to be saving Falchovari from the Great Famine, not saving a cub from a cave to impress a handsome wolf.

That wasn’t true, he was doing this to help a lost little boy. Mostly.

Red pressed his body against the crack, angling it sideways. One step, then another.

A jolt of joy rocketed through him as he slid straight through. Success!

He resisted shooting Wim a victorious grin and pressed on, inching his body through the gap.

Though the further he went, the more the space constricted around him, as if the cave itself was a living thing intent on holding him captive. He could feel the weight of the stone pressing in from all sides.

Each breath became a struggle as panic clawed at his throat, tightening like the very walls around him.

The jagged rock walls bit into Red’s flesh as he forced his body through.

His shirt and breeches were surely tearing, and pain blazed across his shoulders, his ribs, his hips.

Blood trickled down his arm where stone had gouged deep.

Each forward movement brought fresh agony as the rough surface scraped away more skin.

Thank goodness Wim made him take off his hood.

“Red?” Wim’s shout came from behind. “You’ve stopped. Are you stuck?”

“I’m fine,” Red ground out, pressing onwards despite the burning sensation across his torso. He wouldn’t fail at this. Wouldn’t prove himself weak.

The passage narrowed further. Red’s chest compressed as he inched sideways, fighting for each breath. The darkness pressed in, absolute and suffocating.

Was this how he would die—crushed between two slabs of unforgiving stone, all because he needed to prove himself to a wolf who’d probably forget him by tomorrow?

He’d never complete his quest.

And then what of the kingdom? What of the children with hollowed cheeks and the elders too weak to leave their beds?

The golden fields that once flourished now lay barren, and the marketplace that once bustled with life now echoed with desperate pleas for scraps.

Red had seen it all—had witnessed the queen’s indifference as her people starved.

This mission wasn’t just about proving his worth; it was about saving lives.

If he failed here, trapped in this unforgiving darkness, what would happen?

There would be nothing Wim and Astrid could do to free him.

Though maybe Wim would take the golden arrow to Oma himself, complete the quest in Red’s honour. That would be nice .

With one final surge of energy, Red gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

The crack widened, stone walls falling away from his bleeding shoulders.

He rushed forward, desperate to escape the crushing pressure.

Three more steps and the passage opened into blessed space.

His lungs expanded and sweet relief flooded his aching muscles.

Wim and Astrid’s voices drifted to him as if through water, muffled and distant. Their words blurred together, meaningless save for the concern in their tone.

“I’m through!” Red’s shout bounced off unseen walls, multiplying until it died away into nothing. He squinted into the darkness, willing his eyes to adjust. Shadows took shape—not a cavern at all, but a tunnel stretching endlessly ahead. The air hung thick and stale, untouched by sunlight or wind.

Loose pebbles crunched under Red’s feet as he took his first tentative steps forward.

The ground was damp, and wetness soon seeped through the holes in his boots.

The tunnel curved slightly to the left, promising secrets in its depths.

Something skittered in the darkness ahead, and Red flinched backwards.

What waited for him in these forgotten passages?

You are Red, brave royal adventurer, he told himself, but as he reached for his riding hood and found nothing, every morsel of bravery bled away.

He pressed on.