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Wide flower fields rested on either side of the narrow stone path, lush with the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen.

Roses in colors she had never seen before, peonies with the most luxurious petals, and delicate stalks of orchids in exuberant hues.

They were illuminated by rays of light with no apparent source.

Butterflies flitted shyly amongst the blooms, their gossamer wings shimmering in the light.

The fields seemed to be covered in a hazy kind of peace.

This was not the same kind of magic that she had felt at the cottage.

No, this was magic in the most obvious of ways, the kind of magic designed to lull in innocent travellers and lost children who did not know any better.

Serena had no doubt if she stepped into these fields, no one would ever hear from her again.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet her feet refused to budge, every step she managed to take forward on the path seemed like her shoes were lined with lead.

The air hummed a sultry tune, and the wind that brushed through her hair seemed like the hands of an impatient lover, caressing her, asking her to return to their lovemaking.

Just like Grim.

Grim.

The thought of her actual lover seemed to jolt her out of her stupor.

Her feet began to move again, but the place around her seemed to notice the change, and the once gentle breeze turned violent, as if angry at being spurned.

Her crimson cloak whipped around her, and she fought to keep hold of her basket and still see where she was going.

A fog descended, and she could see nothing.

Her hands rummaged through the basket her aunt had thrust into her hands, and her fingers closed around a smooth rounded stone, which lit up as soon as she touched it.

She drew it out, and held it in front of her as it illuminated the path ahead.

She pushed on, following the pitiful ray of light that the stone was emitting.

After what seemed like an eternity of fumbling her way through the windstorm, she stumbled into a clearing of sorts.

She was still on the path, but there were no more flower fields to be seen.

She looked around and realized she had made it halfway up the hill.

Was this how hard it was just to fetch some measly berries in this world?

Serena shuddered at the thought, for once grateful for her drab little town, and felt a sudden longing for her cheery little cottage back home.

Out the corner of her eye she saw a sudden movement and she whirled around, her heart hammering at the idea of meeting the wolf. But all that she saw was a deer staring at her with eerie golden eyes. She took a step back and it dived back into the bushes.

Heart still thudding in her chest, Rina took a shuddering breath and clutched her basket tighter. She heard a soft moan and looked toward the giant oak tree where a man was slumped against the tree trunk, blood seeping from a cut in his forehead.

“Oh my stars, Grim. ”

She rushed to the fallen man and laid a worried hand on his cheek as she inspected the wound.

Luckily it was a shallow cut, and as she eyed the wicked looking thorns in the bush next to him, she realized it was probably one that had been caused by him falling into this world in an unfortunate place.

He stirred then and opened his eyes looking slightly dazed.

“Serena?” he managed in a scratchy voice.

“Are you okay?

“I’m all right; just hit my head when I arrived here, I suppose.” He raked his gaze over her and said in an amused voice, “No need to tell me what tale we’re in, since you are clearly the Red Maiden—and a much prettier one than the original, trust me on that. So what does that make me?”

“The huntsman, of course!”

“I could be the wolf.” He leered at her in a thoroughly unconvincing manner.

Serena snorted. “Yeah and I’m the grandmother. I’m serious, Grim. You’re the huntsman, which means you must show up tomorrow morning to help me fight off the wolf.”

“Hold on, are you telling me you plan on facing the wolf alone before then? No. There is no way. Unless…are you telling me you’ve already met him?” Grim’s eyes had a dangerous glint she did not trust.

“No,” said Serena hastily. “But I’m not taking any chances with changing the purposes of the characters. Not after—” She swallowed hard. “Please, you must trust me on this. I have already planned on what to do when I meet him. You just need to have faith in me.”

“Serena, are you absolutely sure?”

“Perfectly. This tale is one of the most straightforward ones, and Lore hasn’t even shown up yet. So we should be fine. All I have to do is not make Red’s mistakes. ”

Grim frowned. “I think you’re forgetting that I’ve met the Red Maiden, and trust me when I say she is not one to make foolish mistakes. I don’t think her original tale is the same one you read in children’s books.”

She just gave him her best wide-eyed beseeching stare she knew he couldn’t resist, and very predictably he deflated.

“Fine,” he grumbled, and she heaved a sigh of relief. “At least let me walk you back.”

She shook her head. “You can’t. I still haven’t met the wolf yet, and there is no iteration of this story in which Red is with someone when she meets the wolf.

Besides, he cannot harm me, because then the story cannot progress.

Remember what happened when a character tried to deviate from their role last time? ”

They both flinched at the reminder of the queen disintegrating in front of their eyes as Lore looked on, his usual cruel glee replaced by an inhuman kind of fury.

Serena shivered, she knew she talked a big game in front of him, but the truth was, she was tired of playing this twisted game where she had to risk the lives of both her and Grim for a goal she wasn’t even sure was attainable.

Even if her curse lifted, they had no way of making sure Lore would leave her alone after, not unless they found the scepter.

Grim seemed to notice her discomposure, and his eyes softened as he drew her into his arms. She lay her head on his chest, and he kissed her hair with a gentleness that made her want to break down.

“Hey,” he said softly, “we’ll make it out, Princess. I promise.”

She shoved him half-heartedly at the annoying nickname, and he laughed, a warm deep sound that was wholly Grim.

“I know we will.” She sniffed. “I was just worried about how you can't follow a plan that doesn’t come with ten different precautions. ”

“Ahh, yes, as opposed to you who can only rush headlong into danger. Remind me again of how we met?”

Serena turned pink and kicked him.

“A true gentleman would not bring it up again.”

He caught her chin in his hand and murmured, “You would not fall for a true gentleman though, would you?”

Blushing furiously, she pulled away and started marching away, ignoring his chuckles.

“I will see you tomorrow morning,” she called, waving her hand in the air. “Don’t be late.”

“I never am.”

Smiling to herself, she made her way down the hill, barely even noticing the flower fields on her way back, it was as if her meeting with Grim had bolstered her nerves and she was no longer susceptible to the siren call of the deadly gardens.

She tucked a mental picture of Grim laughing deep into her heart, folding it close until she could almost hear his voice and taste his lips.

The walk back home was strangely uneventful. She kept on the lookout for the wolf, but it never appeared. She supposed she should be relieved, but she felt on edge; when the tale didn’t fall into a predictable pattern, it was never a good sign.

It was only when she had reached the door of the cottage, that she realized that she had forgotten the berries she was asked to bring.

Cursing, she realized it was too late now; it would take ages to retrace her steps, and she wasn’t even sure where to look.

So, she braced herself and entered the cottage to give her aunt the bad news.

Her aunt. It was so strange to be able to think that.

She found the older woman in the kitchen, standing over her bubbling pot frowning at the contents .

“Serena, dear,” she said without looking up, “come over here and tell me what’s missing in this soup.”

Crossing over, she sipped the brew and immediately wrinkled her nose. Guess her aunt’s abysmal cooking skills were still present in this world.

“Did you er…add salt in this?” she asked, as politely as she could.

Her aunt sniffed, affronted and picked up the jar next to her. “Well, of course I did! It’s right here.”

“That’s…that’s sugar.”

A beat.

A cough.

“Well, they look remarkably similar.”

Serena struggled to contain her laughter and put an arm around her shoulders, steering her toward the living room.

“How about you rest, and I’ll fix the stew, hm?”

“The nerve!” came the grumbled answer, but she allowed Serena to lead her away.

An hour later, they sat at the table with two bowls of steaming (and edible) stew in front of them. Aunt Maeve sipped it and then nodded approvingly.

“You must show me how to make this!” she said, and Serena felt a memory rush to the forefront of her mind.

“You must show me how you make this stew,” said Aunt Maeve, as they sat on the floor in front of the fireplace.

It was mid-winter, and it was too cold to eat in the kitchen, so Serena and her aunt had made it a tradition to eat on the floor in front of the fire.

Whiskers, her aunt’s old cat napped next to her, adding to the air of cozy calm of Primrose Cottage.

“You always say that,” laughed Serena. “We both know you’re too impatient to follow the recipe.”

“How much of a difference can ten minutes make!” cried her aunt in response.

“A lot!”

“Well, in any case, I’m glad you at least inherited my sister’s cooking skills. Lorena always had a knack for cooking.”

Serena looked at her before carefully asking.