Page 106 of Little Red Riding Hood

Or maybe it was that first night in Wim’s cottage, curled up in his enormous bed. The mattress was ever so soft, the pillows stuffed with countless feathers, and Red had been buried in soft furs that still carried Wim’s scent. Red had never felt safer than when those strong arms pulled him close, Wim’s chest warm against his back as they drifted to sleep.

Was it during those mornings learning to cook together, the little flour they had dusting their clothes as Wim taught him to knead what little bread they could muster? Or the evenings spent teaching Tobias to read by candlelight while Wim carved wooden animals nearby? Maybe it was the way Astrid and the other wolves included him in pack decisions now, valuing his opinion as if he’d always belonged.

The answer hit him as they crested a small rise. It was everything. Every shared meal, every casual touch, every burst of laughter. It was belonging without having to earn it, acceptance without conditions. Everything the palace had never been.

Red glanced at Auntie Anne, who’d gone quiet beside him. Her eyes were wide as she took in the stars above, no longer blocked by palace walls. She’d find that same acceptance among the pack, he knew. The same freedom to simply exist without judgment.

Wim caught his eye, that familiar warmth spreading through Red’s chest at his mate’s gentle smile. Yes, this was home—wherever Wim was.

Moonlight spilled across the dirt path as they approached the waiting cart. Red’s legs ached from their rushed escape, but relief flooded through him at the sight of their getaway vehicle. The driver gave them a crooked grin and touched two fingers to his cap in greeting.

Wim moved first, his powerful frame easily climbing onto the wooden platform. He turned back, extending one large handtowards Red. His eyes glinted with warmth in the darkness. “Ready, sweetheart?”

The familiar endearment, once used to irritate him, still sent pleasant tingles down Red’s spine, still caused butterflies in his stomach. He gazed at Wim’s outstretched hand—those strong fingers that could shift into deadly claws, yet touched him with such tenderness. This hand had protected him, fought for him, loved him. And now it offered him another step towards their shared future.

“Yes,” Red said, clasping Wim’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up. He settled beside his mate, heart full to bursting. “Let’s go home.”

The End