Page 17 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Nine

T rue to their word, their guests left at daybreak.

Red awoke to Astrid shushing Tobias as they gathered their belongings.

Red sat up to wave goodbye to the little wolf, and his heart squeezed a little when Toby said, “See you soon, Red!” with such conviction Red almost believed that they’d meet again.

Astrid gave Wim a long, meaningful look as she said her goodbyes, before the pair of them disappeared into the forest.

Then, it was just the two of them again.

They went about their usual business, falling into the easy rhythm they’d developed. Wim rolled up both their blankets to stuff them into packs. Red gathered the cooking pot, wiping it clean with wet leaves, the morning air nipping at his fingers as he did so.

Wim made no sign of being suspicious that Red had overheard him last night, and so Red made a performance of humming a merry tune, pretending everything was fine.

Everything was fine. He was fine .

He just needed to get to the Dark Forest and say goodbye to this pesky wolf who was causing him grief.

“Here.” Wim tossed him a carrot from their stolen stash. Red caught it with one hand, his other busy coiling rope.

“Ta.” Red bit into the crunchy flesh as he watched Wim kick dirt over the remains of their fire. “Which way?”

Wim pointed southeast, where the trees grew closer together. “Five days’ walk that direction, if the weather holds. ”

Still five days. They’d lost an entire day on finding and rescuing Tobias.

They set off through the undergrowth, the forest quickly swallowing them up.

Red lasted ten minutes before he couldn’t resist starting his very subtle investigation.

“You never said how exactly you developed this… disease of yours,” Red said.

Wim looked at him sharply. “No, I didn’t.”

Going well so far, then.

“Well… do you mind telling me?”

Wim was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

“Dark magic got me.” Wim’s tone dropped low, and Red found himself leaning in to catch the words.

“Was hunting way past our lands, right up near Hallin. Far away, but game was getting scarce…” He trailed off, seemingly lost in dark thoughts before he continued.

“Heard crying. Little girl, all alone in the woods.” His jaw clenched.

“Least, thought it was a little girl. When I went to help, she changed.”

“Changed?” Red’s feet caught on a root, but he barely noticed.

“Turned into a soulstealer. Huge black beast, bigger than me in wolf form, alight with purple flames. My pack hears whispers about it now and then—The Black Beast. People found dead, not a mark on them. Turns out the stories were true.”

Red’s breath caught. “A… soulstealer? Those aren’t real!” But even as he said it, his skin prickled with gooseflesh. Everyone knew the stories—creatures that fed on the essence of living beings, leaving behind empty husks.

“They’re real enough.” Wim’s fingers brushed against his left biceps. “Shifted quick as I could when it came at me—saved my life—but not before it got its teeth in.”

He stopped walking and pulled up his sleeve.

Red’s eyes widened at the mark beneath the dark hair.

He’d noticed it before, but looking at it up close, the bite appeared fresh, as if it had happened yesterday.

An angry circle of puncture wounds, a curious bright purple colour, slightly raised and painful looking.

“That’s impossible.” Red reached out to touch it without thinking, then snatched his hand back. “How is it still…?”

“Still raw? Part of the disease.” Wim tugged his sleeve back down. “The bite never heals. And neither does what it did to me inside.”

“I’ve just realised you haven’t told me yet about where exactly you’re going, to cure it.”

“Hmm? The Dark Forest, same as you.” Wim’s voice remained even, but his left hand drifted to his neck, scratching at the short hairs there.

“Yes, but where exactly in the Dark Forest?” Red kept his tone light, even as a chill ran through him at the mention of that accursed place. Tales of travellers being devoured by monstrous trees flashed through his mind—childhood stories meant to frighten, but which now seemed all too plausible.

Wim glanced towards him again. “Do you know it well?” His hand dropped from his neck, but immediately returned to scratch again.

Red clucked his tongue, hopping over a fallen log, and impressing himself with the grace with which he landed. “No. I only know Oma’s house is right in the middle of it. So, what exactly do you need the Dark Forest for? Is there like… a magical herb that will cure your illness?”

Wim paused for too long before he answered. “Perhaps.”

Wim said nothing else, though his fingers continued their nervous dance against his neck. Red itched to slap his hand away.

“ Perhaps ? What do you mean?”

Wim appeared to trip, then steadied himself on a tree trunk. He remained there, facing the bark, hands pressed against it.

“Wim?”

The wolf did not turn around. Red’s hand hovered in the air, then fell back to his side. His heart rate sky-rocketed. Just what was Wim playing at ?

“Wim?” Red repeated. “What did you mean?”

“I mean for you to stop asking questions that don’t concern you.” Wim whirled around, teeth bared.

Holy shit. Red stumbled backwards, heart leaping into his throat. His hand flew to his bow before he could stop himself. Wim’s entire demeanour had transformed—shoulders hunched, muscles coiled tight.

A growl rumbled deep in Wim’s chest. “I don’t owe you any information.” He advanced, his words rough like gravel. “I owe you nothing .”

Red’s back hit a tree trunk. He lifted his chin. Refusing to show how his hands trembled, he clutched his bow to his chest like a shield. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

“You thought what? That we were friends?” Wim’s laugh held no warmth.

What the fuck?! What had Red done to deserve this?

“ No ,” said Red with all the conviction he could muster, but his voice cracked. He straightened his spine, forcing steel into his words. “I thought you were a man of some honour. Clearly I was wrong.”

Wim’s face flickered, the aggression dropping away, replaced by a grim frown. He stepped back, running both hands through his hair. “I… forgive me. That was—” He winced, pressing his palm against his temple.

Wim’s pupils dilated, black swallowing the warm gold of his irises as his breathing grew ragged and uneven.

Red’s stomach twisted at the sight, and his fingers clamped around the wood of his bow.

Then the wolf’s fingers twitched, nails lengthening into vicious black claws before retracting again, the transformation rippling beneath his skin like a wave.

Red knew all too well what those claws could do to human flesh.

“Something’s—” Wim doubled over, a shudder racking his frame.

When he looked up, his eyes had taken on an amber glow.

“Got to go. Right now.” Wim gasped, already backing away, his movements jerky and uncontrolled.

“Need to get far away from you.” He staggered backwards, pressing his palm against his temple.

“Map,” he growled, gesturing frantically. “Quick!”

Red fumbled with his pack, yanking out the crinkled parchment with trembling fingers. The map fluttered in the chill breeze as he spread it against the rough bark.

“Here—” Red’s voice wavered as Wim lurched forward, jabbing a trembling finger at the map.

“Follow this stream—” Wim’s words came in pained gasps. “Silver birches—then south. Two days’ walk.” Another violent tremor caused him to stagger backwards.

Two days? Red would be alone for two whole days? It took a shocking amount of energy not to protest, not to beg Wim not to leave him.

“Promise me—” Wim demanded, eyes flashing. “You’ll stay on the path.”

Something warm bloomed in Red’s chest, despite everything. Even now, with whatever affliction gripped him, Wim worried about Red losing his way. Maybe even seeing Red again.

“I promise,” Red whispered, but Wim had already staggered into the shadows between the trees, leaving nothing but the fading sound of laboured breathing and pine needles crushed beneath boots.

Alone again. Possibly for good this time.

How terribly convenient this happened just when you started asking difficult questions.

Though a sudden thought struck Red—had he somehow caused this? Had he put Wim under too much stress, triggering one of his episodes?

Or, alternatively, perhaps Wim had even been faking that whole thing, just to get away from Red. After all, Red barely knew this strange wild wolf.

You’ll be fine by yourself. Get a grip!

It was time to leave—Red had stood still for far too long. He had golden arrows to shoot, quests to complete.

And so, he set off .

Red’s feet dragged through the undergrowth, each step heavier than the last. He couldn’t stop the map from trembling in his hands as he traced their planned route with his finger. Their route. But Wim wasn’t here anymore.

The forest stretched endlessly ahead, a maze of thick trunks and gnarled branches that blocked most of the weak autumn sunlight. Red pulled his crimson hood tighter around his shoulders, fighting against the growing shadows that pressed in from all sides.

Left foot. Right foot. Keep moving.

A jay shrieked overhead, causing him to stumble. His heart pounded as he steadied himself against a tree trunk. The rough bark bit into his palm, grounding him in reality.

The path ahead curved sharply around a massive oak. Red forced himself forward, focusing on the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, but every snap of a twig, every rustle in the bushes made him whirl around, searching for grey fur, for familiar orange eyes.

Why does being alone feel so different now?

A branch snagged Red’s cloak, yanking him backwards with brutal force. The clasp dug into his throat, choking off his air, and his fingers scrabbled at his neck to release the catch. He finally freed himself and dropped to his knees, gulping down precious air.