Page 3 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Wim raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips. “Suit yourself. But don’t be surprised if you faint from hunger in the middle of your grand quest, sweetheart.”

Red’s cheeks burnt at the sarcastic endearment. He opened his mouth to retort, but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, betraying him.

Wim chuckled, the sound deep and rich. His pupils were like molten gold, gleaming in the firelight. “Sounds like your belly’s telling a different tale.”

Red scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine. But how much energy do you think I’ll get from a ladle of bone broth?”

There was no reply. The wolf must have known Red had a solid point.

If he didn’t find food somehow in the morning, he wouldn’t survive much longer out here.

Red should have demanded more rations, but the kitchen master had insisted Red would be able to hunt small game along the route.

So far, the only rabbit he’d seen had been the one those handsome men had .

Wim ladled the steaming broth into a wooden bowl and passed it to Red. The warmth seeped through, warming his cold fingers. He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the liquid suspiciously, but the enticing aroma proved too tempting to resist.

Red took a cautious sip. The rich, savoury flavour exploded on his tongue, a symphony of herbs and a hint of meat that made his taste buds sing. Before he could stop himself, a small moan of pleasure escaped his lips.

“This is… actually quite good,” Red admitted, then immediately regretted his words. He shouldn’t be complimenting this wildling’s cooking, no matter how delicious it was.

Wim gave him a smug smile. “Well now, I’m glad it meets your royal standards, sweetheart.”

Red’s cheeks burnt even hotter. “Stop calling me that!”

After a chuckle, Wim said, “Go on, then. What’s this grand errand Her Majesty’s got you running? One that will magically solve the famine?” He seemed to repress a laugh.

“It’s hardly a laughing matter,” Red snapped, his grip tightening on the wooden bowl. “People are starving across the kingdom. Children go to bed with empty bellies, and the elderly waste away in their homes.”

Wim’s smirk faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. “Aye, I know plenty about this famine’s bite. My pack… we’ve buried our share.”

Red’s brow furrowed. “The crops have failed for three seasons now. Even the palace stores are running low. Residents outside of the Queen’s close court, like myself, haven’t had enough to eat in months. The Queen fears riots if we can’t find a solution soon.”

“And you reckon this quest will solve everything?” Wim’s tone was skeptical, but not mocking.

Red nodded. “The Queen’s advisors discovered an ancient prophecy. They believe the Great Famine is a curse that can only be broken by…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure if he should reveal the exact details of his mission to this stranger .

Wim leaned forward, the flicks of gold in his eyes intensifying in the firelight. “By what?”

“By the death of a powerful witch,” Red finished. “Old Oma, they call her. The Queen believes she’s the source of the famine.”

Wim’s reaction to the witch’s name was subtle, but Red caught it nonetheless. The man’s shoulders tensed, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he schooled his features back into a mask of indifference.

“Old Oma, you say?” Wim’s voice was carefully neutral, but there was an undercurrent of… something Red couldn’t quite place. “And you believe killing her will end the famine?”

Red nodded, watching Wim closely. “The Queen’s advisors are certain of it. They’ve studied the ancient texts for months.”

Wim’s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath his skin. He turned away, pretending to stir the pot of broth, but Red could see the way his knuckles whitened around the wooden spoon.

“And you?” Wim asked. “Do you believe it?”

Red hesitated. Did he? The Queen had given him a mission, and who was he to question her wisdom? But something in Wim’s reaction made him pause.

“I… I’m not sure,” Red admitted, surprising himself with his honesty. “But I have to try. For the kingdom. It would bring me the highest honour.”

Saving Falchovari from starvation would surely escalate Red from his current social standing—a touch above the servants, on a good day—to one of the Queen’s court. He might even become a celebrated hero of sorts. Maybe a statue or two of him would be erected. He wouldn’t say no.

Wim nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the fire. “For the kingdom,” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it?” Red snapped, because he was obviously holding something back.

Wim visibly flinched. “Finish your broth. ”

A few minutes of silence passed, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the soft slurping of broth. Red continued to sneak glances at the wolf, who broodily sat on his own log, staring into the flames. Then he finally looked at Red again.

“So, as it happens,” the man started, hesitant-like. “I’m heading that way myself.”

“But I haven’t told you which way I’m travelling,” Red shot back, sharp as an arrow. He studied Wim’s face for any sign of deception. The man’s gaze remained steady, but there was a flicker of something in its depths.

“Your pack,” Wim said, nodding towards Red’s gear. “Spotted that map of yours poking out before. Got a path marked right up to the Dark Forest.”

Red’s hand instinctively moved to his pack. He’d been careless, again. He’d been taught better than to leave such vital information exposed. Queen Schon would be furious if she knew.

“And you just happen to also be going into the Dark Forest?” Red asked, trying to keep his tone light despite the sudden tension coiling in his gut. “That’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Wim’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Fancy that, eh? Could be fate talking. This forest is dangerous. Might be we could help each other out. Travelling companions, just for a few days.”

Red gaped at Wim, shock and indignation warring within him. The audacity ! Suggesting they travel together, as if Red needed his help.

“Absolutely not,” Red snapped, drawing himself up to his full height. “I don’t need you, dog. I’m perfectly capable of surviving in this forest. I was trained by the Queen’s huntsman himself.”

Wim only laughed. “That so? I can’t imagine the Queen’s huntsman walking about with his toes poking through his boots.”

Red quickly covered his well-worn leather boots with his cloak, glaring at the wolf.

Wim’s lips twitched. “You’ll starve before sundown tomorrow, sweetheart. ”

The words stung. They held a grain of truth, but Red would be damned if he’d admit it. “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” Three whole days. “I also fail to see what you’d get out of the arrangement.”

As he met Wim’s fiery gaze, Red’s blood ran cold as realisation seeped through him. Red raked his eyes over the man’s muscular form. He dropped his voice low to ask, “Unless… unless what you want in return is… is me?”

Wim’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment he looked genuinely taken aback. Then he burst out laughing. “You?” Wim chuckled, shaking his head. “Settle down. I have no interest in scrawny little waifs like you. I prefer my men sturdy enough for rough handling, not breakable as a twig.”

Surprise and irritation warred for dominance, quickly replaced by a healthy twinge of offence. “Waif?” Red sputtered indignantly. “I’ll have you know I’m considered quite desirable at court!” A bit of a stretch, but Red wasn’t completely without his charms.

Wim’s laughter subsided, but his eyes still sparkled with mirth. “Of course you are, sweetheart. But that’s not why I offered to walk with you.”

“Then why?” Red demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “What could you possibly gain?”

Wim’s expression sobered, the amusement fading from his eyes.

“Like I said before, these forests aren’t safe.

Two sets of eyes are better than one, even if it’s just us.

And…” He hesitated, seeming to choose his words carefully.

“Since I’ve got my own business that way, makes sense to stick together for a bit.

The forest can be a scary place, especially for a little thing like you. ”

“Fine!” Red jumped up, busying himself with rearranging his meager pile of possessions.

“I suppose you might come in useful, the next time my fire is being fickle.” The dog might come in handy for other things as well, like scaring off any more lurking predators and chasing away annoying bandits who might dare to attempt to rob him.

Wim laughed, then rumbled in agreement. “Aye, that. ”

“I’m going to sleep,” Red pointedly announced. “I will sleep on this side.” He laid out his bedroll on his side of the fire. “And you will sleep over there.”

“Oh, will I now?” Wim laughed again, the sound booming through the trees, a deep, rich rumble that felt as though it vibrated through the very ground beneath them. It was a mix of amusement and challenge. “You think you’re in charge here, sweetheart?”

Something very peculiar twinged through Red’s stomach. Likely it was the broth settling in.

But thankfully, the wolf conceded, laying out his own—remarkably thicker—bedroll on the opposite side.

Red turned over so that his back was being warmed by the fire, and so that he wasn’t faced with Wim’s burning eyes for a second longer.

He curled into a tight ball, rubbing his freezing feet.

It was the coldest night yet. He hated to admit it, but he might have been in trouble if the wolf hadn’t found him again.

Though, even with the fire, he was still bitterly cold. He clamped his teeth together so Wim wouldn’t hear them chatter.

“Hey,” Wim said, after an age of silence.

“What?” Red snapped. “I’m sleeping.”

“I just realised I never got your name.”

Why was that simple statement making Red’s heart pound? And should he tell the stranger his name, or invent one? But there was no harm in it, he supposed. After all, he’d need someone to recount the brave tales of his adventures when this was all over. Spread the word from inn to inn.

Without turning to face Wim, Red replied, “My name’s Red. You know… because of my riding hood.”

“Red. Right, then. Sweet dreams, Little Red. Mind the wolves don’t bite.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and then Red’s mouth betrayed him by saying, “Thank you,” through gritted teeth. “For the fire. And… the broth.”

A low chuckle reverberated through the camp.

“My pleasure, Red.”