Page 39 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Seventeen

“ E njoying a nice lie-in this morning, are we?”

Red shot upright, his heart lurching into his throat. The Queen’s Shadow’s face filled his vision—those impossibly dark eyes boring into him, framed by straight black hair that hung like a funeral shroud. A cruel smile played across the spirit’s lips, sharp as a blade’s edge.

Fuck.

Instinctively, he reached out to where Wim should have been, just to his side, but his hands closed around thin air.

Where was Wim?

Red’s eyes darted around their camp, searching desperately for any sign of the wolf.

The bedroll beside him was cold and empty.

His gaze landed on their gear, relief flooding through him at the sight of Wim’s worn leather pack propped against a tree—if that was still here, then he hadn’t abandoned him after their argument.

“Looking for your pet wolf?” The Shadow’s smile widened, revealing teeth too white, too perfect to be human. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t gone far. But there’s something else you’ve lost that you should be worried about.”

Red stared at the spirit. What new game was this twisted creature playing? The Shadow’s words scratched at the edges of his mind like thorns seeking purchase.

The golden arrow .

Ice crystallised in his veins as his hand flew to his quiver. His fingers trembled as they brushed past ordinary arrows, searching, desperate. Steel tips, wooden shafts, falcon feather fletching—but no trace of gilt. No magic golden arrow.

“Where is it?” Red’s voice quavered, his fingers clenching around the quiver. “This isn’t funny!”

The Shadow’s form rippled like ink in water, that terrible smile never wavering. “Don’t ask me! You’ll have to ask the wolf. He’s the one who ran off with it.”

“ What? Why the fuck would he do that?” Red cried. “He doesn’t even…” The words died in his throat. He wouldn’t give this creature the satisfaction of seeing him unravel, of watching him piece together whatever cruel plot was unfolding.

Cackling, the Shadow rose, pulling his brocade coat tight around him.

“Are you off to tell the Queen?” Red shouted it in a tone to suggest he didn’t care, when in fact, he did very much. He quite liked his head on his neck.

Instead of answering, the Queen’s Shadow’s form twisted, stretching like ink dropped in water, before dissolving into wisps of black smoke that curled into nothingness. An acrid scent lingered in the air.

Red’s fingers trembled as he dressed and gathered his belongings. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and sweat beaded across his brow despite the morning chill. What the fuck was Wim doing with that arrow? He needed to find him, immediately.

“Wim?” he called out, though barely above a whisper. No response, only the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant call of a dove.

Which way would he have gone? Red spun in place, scanning the forest floor. The dense canopy above cast dappled shadows that played tricks with his vision, making every root and hollow look like a possible trail .

Wait— there . A broken branch lay across a patch of disturbed earth, its fresh splinters catching the weak morning light. Red traced the direction with his eyes, noting more subtle signs: a displaced stone, bent grass, the faintest impression of what could be a large footprint.

He picked his way through the undergrowth, following these tentative clues. The forest grew denser, branches snagging at his cloak, roots threatening to trip him with every step.

Clang.

Red froze. The sound rang out again—metal striking something, like a hammer on an anvil. But that was impossible. They were miles from any settlement.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The rhythm was steady, methodical. Red crept forward, ducking under a low-hanging branch. The sound grew louder with each step, more aggressive, as if the striker were getting angrier.

Then he saw it.

Wim crouched beside a massive, flat boulder, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he gripped the golden arrow in white-knuckled hands.

His face contorted with desperation, jaw clenched.

The arrow’s shaft glinted as it struck stone again and again, each impact sending shards of light dancing across the forest floor.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Red’s fingers moved of their own accord, nocking an arrow to his bow. The string drew taut with a familiar creak.

“Stop!”

Wim’s head snapped up, eyes wild and feral. The golden arrow hung suspended in his grasp, caught mid-strike.

“You fucking traitor.” While Red’s arms shook with rage, his aim remained steady. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Get close to me, make me trust you, then destroy the Queen’s arrow? ”

“Red—”

“Shut up! I trusted you.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. “I let you in, I…” His throat closed around the rest of that sentence. “And the whole time you were working against me.”

Wim’s expression shifted from shock to something darker, more dangerous. His fingers tightened around the golden arrow.

“Put it down.” Red pulled the bowstring back further, arrow tip aimed at Wim’s chest. “Or I’ll shoot you.”

Wim let out a guttural shout that echoed through the trees, hurling the golden arrow at the ground. It struck the earth with such force that it bounced, rolling to a stop between them. Red’s fingers remained locked on his bowstring, arrow still trained on Wim.

“I should shoot you anyway,” Red spat, vision blurring with unshed tears.

His chest constricted, making each breath a battle.

“For treason. Don’t you—” He swallowed hard, fighting to steady himself.

“Don’t you want the famine to end?” The betrayal crashed over him in waves, each one threatening to drag him under.

His next words came out as a broken whisper. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Easy now, sweetheart,” Wim’s tone was gentle, hands lifting slowly. “Put the bow down and let me tell you everything.”

“No!” The word tore from Red’s throat, raw and desperate. “Answer me, goddamn you!”

“Use that clever head of yours!” Wim’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “If all I wanted was to destroy your precious arrow, don’t you think I’d have done it already? Could have taken it that first night and vanished into the woods, couldn’t I?”

Red’s arms trembled from holding the bow taut, but he refused to lower it. His eyes narrowed. “You told me that you like to play with your food. Clearly, you decided to take that to a whole new level.”

Red’s arms shook as Wim advanced, each step bringing him closer. The bow wobbled, his grip slipping with sweat. “Stay back!” The words ripped from his throat, desperate and raw .

Tears blurred his vision, turning Wim into a dark smudge against the forest. Red blinked hard, trying to clear his sight, but the tears kept coming.

“I just wanted to take a closer look at that fucking golden arrow you’re putting your life on the line for.

To see if I could prove you wrong somehow.

” Wim’s voice grew closer, steadier. “Goddamn her for twisting you up like this! For someone so clever, you’ve swallowed her lies without question.

Just think it through properly, sweetheart. Does it really add up?”

The words struck deeper than any arrow could. Red’s chest tightened, crushing the air from his lungs. His fingers burned from holding the bowstring so tightly.

“We’ve already been through this!” Red inhaled a stuttering breath.

“It doesn’t make sense that she sent someone so pathetic, so unskilled, to do such an important job, am I right?

” The truth poured out of him like poison from a wound.

“Because there’s no way I could possibly succeed.

You’re right, Wim, I am a nobody. I’m expendable.

That’s why she sent me. In case I fail, in case Oma kills me first—then it’s no great loss to her. I know that, alright?”

“Red—” Wim’s voice dropped to a whisper, soft as velvet against Red’s frayed nerves.

“I heard you and Astrid that night,” Red spat. “You called my quest stupid nonsense.”

Any remaining colour dropped from Wim’s face as his expression contorted to one of pure horror. “I’m… sorry,” he said. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Well, I did! And it cut me deeply!” More than he’d care to admit.

“But—”

“That still doesn’t explain why I found you striking the arrow as if you wished to break it!” Red’s hands trembled on his bow, but he kept it high.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy as winter fog. Wim’s hand crept up to scratch at his neck—that familiar gesture that betrayed his discomfort. Red’s stomach twisted at the sight .

“If I managed to destroy it, I hoped you’d see that it wasn’t a magic arrow after all, just some game the Queen is playing.” Wim’s words fell like stones into still water, each one sending ripples of doubt through Red’s mind.

“But why do you care if it’s real or not? It’s worth a try , isn’t it? To stop the famine?” The bow wavered in his grip as exhaustion crept through his muscles.

Wim opened his mouth, then closed it again. His shoulders tensed, jaw working as if chewing on words he couldn’t quite spit out.

Red’s fingers tightened even further. “I know you’re hiding something. Have been hiding something this whole time. I’m not stupid! I’ve trusted you with every tiny piece of me—”

The raw anguish in his words must have been enough for Wim to risk injury, because he lurched towards Red, swiftly knocking the bow to one side to scoop Red into his arms.

Wim’s arms locked around Red like iron bands, crushing him against that broad chest. Red thrashed, but Wim’s grip only tightened as he sank to the ground, pulling Red down with him.

The rough bark of the tree pressed into Red’s back through his cloak as Wim arranged them both, settling Red between his legs.

“Let me go!” Red slammed his fist into Wim’s shoulder, but it was like hitting stone. His legs kicked out, seeking purchase, trying to break free. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”