Loving the Wolf
Mariette is lost in the woods, and Evan is the boy that saves her. Red Riding Hood where the wolf is not the antagonist and the huntsman is not the protagonist. Rated: PG-13

  Loving the Wolf
            The night was dark and rainy when Mariette’s mother received a startling call from her own mother who lived deep, deep in the woods.   Mariette was safely curled up in a warm wool blanket, basking in the warmth of the blazing fire.  Her eyes drooping, she did not think much of the call until her mother hobbled into the room, her face white and leaning more heavily on her cane than usual.

            Her mother had broken her leg when she was very small.  Mariette’s grandmother was a strict woman who did not trust the doctor and their new-fangled ‘sciences,’ she had tried to set the leg herself.  The result had been messy, and the leg had never healed properly, causing Mariette’s mother to walk with a limp.

            Mariette sat up straighter.  “Mother?”

            “Mariette, that was you’re grandmother.  There’s something in the woods.”

            Mariette stared at her with wide eyes.

            “You must go to her, for I cannot.”

            “Yes, Mother,” Mariette agreed.  She could never say no to her mother.

            “Be careful,” said the small woman, thrusting a basket and a cloak spun of deep crimson material into her hands.  “Stay to the path. You know the way.”

            Mariette nodded, accepting the basket and the cloak, wondering at the strangeness of the color.  She had been her grandmother’s house only once before, traveling down the well-worn trail through the deepest, dark section of the forest.

            She stood, allowing her mother to lead her to the door. The older woman remained inside the house, standing in the doorway and staring out through the rain at the forest that bordered their property. The edge of the very forest her daughter would have to travel through, with all it’s hidden dangers that she had tried to shelter the girl from.

            On the other side of the doorframe, Mariette wrapped the crimson cloak around her shoulders. The dim glow of porch light flooded over her, forming a halo around her midnight black hair. She took a step towards the forest and the rain, and her footfall alerted her mother.

            “Wait,” her mother called. Mariette turned back, watching the suddenly small woman that knew she could no longer protect her only daughter. “Hurry. But beware of the wolves.”

            Mariette nodded again. “I will.” She gave her mother a small smile, then pulled the crimson hood over her head and stepped out into the rain. Her mother remained in the doorway until she could no longer make out the girl through the swiftly falling rain.

            She was wading through water up to her ankles and the rain still fell heavily. Her feet, submerged in the cold water, had gone numb hours before, but she kept moving, afraid that if she stopped, she more of her body would succumb to that lack of feeling. However, the crimson cloak that covered her had yet to soak through, and she was relatively warm.

            She had lost track of path long before, hidden as it was beneath half a foot of water. She did not know where she was going, or which way to go to turn back. She could very well be walking in circles.

            The howl of a wolf cut through the sound of the rain. Mariette halted mid-step. Her mother had warned her of the wolves, and she planned to heed her mother’s counsel. The sound of splashing footsteps quickly followed the howl, and Mariette ducked quickly behind a tree.

            It did her no good, however, because she soon noticed a pair of glowing eyes coming closer. She crouched just above the water line, hoping to hid as much as well as to keep her cloak dry. The eyes suddenly stopped, just far enough so that she could not make out the creature they belonged too.

            She was almost about to relax when she noticed a second pair of eyes watching her. This pair did not glow the way first had, but they were luminous in their own way. And this pair had not stopped where the first had, but continued to close in on her. Mariette squeezed her eyes closed. The wolf’s teeth would soon find her flesh.

            There was no pain when she finally felt the contact on her shoulder. Surprised, Mariette’s eyes snapped open and she lifted her eyes, trying to make out what was beside her. Despite the rain and the darkness, she made out the form of a man. She gasped.

            “What are you doing in my woods?” the man asked, his hand falling from her shoulder. His voice was deep and displeased. Mariette also detected a hint of surprise, although she could not think of why.

            “I… I am trying to find my grandmother’s house… but I… think that I… I’m lost,” Mariette stuttered, although she was not sure if it was from cold or from fear, or perhaps even both.

            There was a pause, in which Mariette knew the man was deciding her fate. When he finally did speak, his voice was devoid of all emotion. “Come. You will die, lost and alone in the woods, if I do not help you.”

            Mariette stood, pulling the crimson cloak tightly around her. When she looked up to follow him, his form had disappeared into the night. “Wait!” she called after him, suddenly afraid. Had he lied so that she would not fight him when he disappeared and left her to the wolves?

            There was a exasperated huff of breath further ahead, and Mariette stumbled towards the sound. Her feet sloshed through the rising water and her chest made contact with the firm muscle of another body. There was a sharp intake of breath from the man, either from the impact or from surprise she did not know. She quickly stepped away.

            The man reached out, taking her hand in his. “Do not let go. I won’t come back for you again.”

            Mariette nodded, weaving her fingers around his to make sure that she would not lose her grip. The man said nothing, but merely took a step in the direction he had started to go before.

            They traveled quickly, in silence. The man did not ask where her grandmother’s house was and Mariette assumed that he knew. There were not many houses within these woods.

            They stopped sporadically to rest. The man seemed to sense when she grew to tired to go on, but occasionally, he pushed her, forcing her to keep going although she did not think she could take another step. But, whenever she faltered, her feet stuck in the mud, he was there to catch her.

            Just when Mariette wondered if the many hours they had been traveling had turned into many dark days, the sun broke over the horizon, casting the forest in gloomy, gray light. The rain did not stop. But, at least now, she could see.

            In the dim light, Mariette noticed too things. The first, the man she though she was following, was not in fact a man yet. He appeared to be just a few years older than she. He was dressed in animal skins, and nothing made of cloth adorned his body. His blond hair was shaggy and matted, plastered to his head by the rain. His face, when he turned to glance back at her, was handsome, but seemed to be set in a permanent scowl.

            The second thing that Mariette saw was a wolf. The creature was covered in white fur, shot through with gray and silver strands. It paused when it saw that she had caught sight of it, meeting her green eyes with it’s own amber flecked eyes. The eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. This was the wolf that had found her before. It was trailing them.

            Mariette stopped dead in her tracks as she realized this, pulling the not-quite-man to a halt with her. He spun, glaring at her.

            “Wha-” he began, but Mariette cut him off.

            “That wolf has been following us,” Mariette said.

            “Of course.”

            Caught off guard by the boy’s answer, Mariette broke eye contact with the wolf only to be meet with another pair of amber eyes. Although this pair was much darker than the wolf’s, neither the matching color, nor controlled look of danger held within could be denied.

            “Of course?” Mariette repeated. The amber eyes bore down on her, as if they could see straight through her worried green eyes into the depths of her very soul. And belonging to this boy, perhaps they could.

            “Reule and I have never been separated.” It was the only explanation he offered, but he did not turn away from her. The confusion on her face sparked curiosity within the amber eyes.

            “Reule? You mean the wolf? But… you’re a man,” she proclaimed.

            “Yes.”

            “Then… why do you remain here?”

            Her question caused all the innocent curiosity to disappear. His eyes hardened and the scowl became more pronounced upon his features.

            “You are nothing more than a girl. You would not understand the workings of the world,” he snapped.

            Shock widened her green eyes, and she tried to pull her hand away from the fingers she had weaved them into, but he would not allow her too. Caught where she stood, she turned to anger. “I am not a girl, anymore than you are a man,” she retorted. “And you are a barbarian, trapped in the woods with a wolf. I understand more of the world than you could even begin to comprehend.”

            Her anger provoked him. “I am not trapped in the woods. I can still find my way.” He dropped her hand. “Unlike you.”

            Mariette could only stand where she stood, watching him retreat into the darkness of the forest. The anger she felt towards him blocked the fear that she knew she should feel, lost again in the rain. But this time, she was not alone. The wolf, named Reule, did not leave her, but circled protectively. Sensing her fear of his kind, he remained far enough away she could somewhat relax.

            The rain had stopped, but water still covered the ground when the boy returned. Mariette, more weary than she realized, had climbed into the low nook of a nearby tree. Wedged in place between two large branches, she had escaped the small flood and fallen asleep.

            The boy almost regretted waking her, but he had not yet completely forgiven her. Her barbs had cut deep, deeper than he would have thought possible, and he resented her more for that than the fact she did not know what she said.

            However, when he reached the tree and stared up at her peaceful face, he felt a stirring in his body that he could not place. Her long black hair had been protected from the rain by her crimson colored cloak. Unlike his, it hung around her face in gleaming locks that shone in the first rays of sunlight that broke through the dissipating clouds. Her skin was clean, although her legs were mud splashed. She was pretty with her eyes closed, with her perfect brows and plump red lips, but he wished to again see those green orbs that held him so entranced before.

            It was as much as for those eyes as well as his anger that he woke her. He lightly rested his hand on her shoulder, giving her a small shake. Her eyes slit open, regarding him at half-mast. The short time that he had left her was apparently not long enough for her to rest. Sighing, he pushed the argument and what remained to be said to the back of his mind.

            “Can you get down?” he asked.

            She nodded, mixing a yawn into the action. It was awkward, but eventually and with very little help, she ended up on her feet and the ground. She was still half asleep, the boy noticed.

            Quickly deciding, he turned and bent down in front of her.

            “What are you doing?” she asked.

            “I’m going to carry you.”

            “You-”

            “Just get on.”

            Mariette gave in. She climbed on his back, sliding her legs under his arms and wrapping her own arms around his neck. She didn’t doubt that he was strong enough to easily lift her and her basket.

            Reule came up behind them, just out of sight of Mariette. His amber eyes remained glued on the pair. The boy had remained, safe, in the woods for so long with only the wolves as companions that Reule had feared he would never be able to live with humans again. This girl made him sure that there was still a chance for the deserted boy. This could be the last time that boy and wolf were together.

            Their progress this time was slow, but not so silent.

            “Thank you for coming back.”

            The boy said nothing, only nodded. His blond hair tickled her nose, the scent of the rain overlaying the predominate scent of the forest released by the movement. She inhaled it deeply, knowing it had come from living in the wilderness and not any sort of overpowering shampoo.

            “I’m sorry that I snapped at you,” she added.

            “You had every right,” he said simply.

            “You don’t have to carry me anymore.”

            The boy hesitated. He didn’t wish to lose contact with her, but he didn’t know how to fight her blunt statement. So he bent down and she climbed to her feet.

            As they began walking again, the boy struggling to keep his long stride shorter for her to keep up, Mariette asked his name. Surprised amber eyes met hers.

            “It’s a perfectly innocent question,” she said.

            He nodded. There was power in a name, but he was sure there was little harm in her knowing his if he got to learn hers.

            “I am called Evan.”

            Mariette smiled. “My name is Mariette. Pleased to meet you.”

            “Pleased… to meet you,” he repeated.

            The crack of a rifle rang through the air. Mariette froze, but Evan sprang into action. He dropped into the water and underbrush, pulling Mariette down beside him. He kept one arm protectively around her, while keeping all his senses alert for the owner of the rifle.

            “Who-” Mariette began, but Evan silenced her with a hand placed gently over her mouth. He would explain, in due time.

            Evan tilted his head, waiting. When he thought that he heard faint footsteps heading in the opposite direction, he released Mariette’s mouth.

            “Who-” she began again, but this time, Evan interrupted her with words.

            “The huntsman. That was the huntsman.”

            “And we hid from him because?”

            There was a pause before Evan answered. “He does not like the wolves or… the companions of the wolves.”

            He stood, and held out his hand to help her. “Come. If we hurry, we will reach your grandmother’s house before nightfall.”

            Mariette had just placed her hand in Evan’s, but before she could reach her feet, a dark hand covered in black spirals of hair whipped out to wrap around his neck from behind. Evan froze and released Mariette. She sat in front of him, dumbly staring as the man that held Evan appeared over his shoulder.

            He was a head taller than his captive, his head enveloped by the same curly, jet-black hair that covered his arm. He gave Evan a twisted smile, his broken yellow teeth showing under his pale, thin lips. He brought his other arm up, this one holding a knife. He moved his first hand to hold Evan’s arms, replacing his hold with the sharp edge of the knife. He didn’t notice Mariette.

            “Thought you was safe, didn’t you,” the huntsman hissed, angling the knife so that Evan felt the bite of it’s blade. He flinched, but did not cry out, despite the thin trail of blood that dripped from the thin slash. Mariette did that for him, emitting a soft squeak.

            The noise caught the attention of the huntsman. He studied her for a moment, and in that brief few seconds, Evan forcefully whispered, “Run.”

            The huntsman laughed, a sneer forming on his face. “You do that, little girl, and I cut his throat for sure. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

            Mariette didn’t move.

            “Good. Now, what are you doing with his… kind?” the huntsman demanded. His hold on Evan’s arms tightened, but this time he did not react.

            “I… my… grandmother…” Mariette tried to speak, but the fear of this man gripped her so tightly that the words stuck in her throat. Her hands shook, but she hid them in her lap. The man could tell she was afraid, but it would not do to let on just how terrified she really was. When she had met Evan, she had been afraid, but then, in the dark, she had not seen any weapons. He hadn’t threatened her at all. This man was.

            “Stuttering won’t save you. Speak clearly, or else.”

            “I… got lost. He was he-helping me find my grandmother’s house.”

            “That true?” he demanded of Evan.

            “Yes.” Although the man had pressed the knife closer with his words and the blood trail had expanded, Evan’s eyes remained trained on Mariette.

            The huntsman’s thick brows furrowed and his eyes hardened. “Teresa? You is Teresa’s daughter? You will gonna pay for her crimes, just like her mother.”

            “My mother?” Shock replaced her fear. What did her mother have to do with this man?

            “Your mother,” the man said. He rearranged his grip on Evan so that he could be held firmly with only one hand. Before Mariette realized what he was doing, he had brought the butt end of the knife down on her head. She was unconscious within seconds, but she did manage to hear one thing before she sank into oblivion. Evan shouting her name.

            There was pain. So much pain that, after she came to, she didn’t want to open her eyes. Except, as her memories flooded back to her, she knew she had too.

            Slits of light caused the pain in her head to increase, but as soon as her eyes focused she forgot all but the scene in front of her. The huntsman had taken her the rest of the way to her grandmother’s. She recognized the inside of the old woman’s simple home from the only time she had visited it with her mother. However, it was now trashed. The curtains had been drawn over broken windows; books lay open on the ground; chairs had been upturned; bed sheets were strewn over everything.

            Evan lay in the bed, his back turned to her. She did not see the huntsman anywhere. But she did not take any chances. Instead of again alerting him to her presence, she tried to stand, but a length of rope bound around her wrists then tied to the hearth that she rested against. She struggled against her bonds, but the knots were too tight.

            “Evan,” she called quietly. He hadn’t moved since she had woken up, and she couldn’t see him breath.

            He stirred slightly at the sound of her voice, but it took him a moment to turn. When he did, she almost wished he hadn’t. His face was pale, his amber eyes glazed. Blood had soaked the furs around his chest and his stomach, and she guessed that he had fought back after the huntsman knocked her out.

            “Mariette,” he said, his normally clear voice low and strained. Unshed tears filled his eyes. “He killed… Reule.”

            “Evan… I’m sorry…” Mariette wished she could comfort him, but there was nothing else she could say. He nodded, staring at her through gazed amber eyes that refused to cry for his only companion.

            Before anything else could be said, the door slammed open and the huntsman entered. He carried an armful of firewood, which he dumped beside Mariette with a clatter. Mariette looked up, breaking eye contact with Evan, and turned her head towards the huntsman. Her head throbbed with the movement, but she ignored it.

            The huntsman had not escaped Evan and Reule unscathed. Blood had soaked through the crude bandage wrapped around his arm. There was a deep slash over his left eye, across over his nose, and into his right eye. He walked with a slight limp towards the bed.

            “Leave him alone!” Mariette cried out sharply when she saw his intent.

            The single eye snapped up. “You woke up.” The sneer had returned to his face. “Too bad.”

            He pressed his grubby hands against Evan’s already wounded neck. He let out a strangled cry, but didn’t move to protect himself.

            “Let him go!” Mariette repeated. The huntsman ignored her. She struggled even harder against her ropes, searched the area around her feet for anything that could help her. There was a letter-opener lying by her ankle. She glanced up to be sure that the huntsman wouldn’t see her, then slid the thin metal object towards her hands with her foot. Thankfully, the huntsman had left them free.

            The huntsman spoke quietly to Evan, but she could still hear him while she struggled with the letter opener. She gripped it in one fist, trying to work the metal edge between the ropes that held her and praying that it was sharp enough to spilt the coarse threads.

            “I won’t kill you now, wolf. I should stuff you with rocks and throw you in a lake, but I won’t. I leave you here so that you can die slowly.” He paused, a dark look passing over his face. “And I’ll get my revenge for what you and that dirty wolf did to me. That girl’s screams won’t save you… or let you rest easily.”

            Evan groaned underneath the huntsman’s hand, glaring up at the black haired man. Once the huntsman released him, he growled.

            “Touch her and die.”

            The huntsman laughed. “But whose hand? Yours?” Evan said nothing.

            The huntsman lumbered towards her and Mariette tried to squirm away from him. The letter opener was too dull. Attempting to stall the man from reaching her, she demanded, “Why are you doing this?” She did not have to fake the panic that made it’s way into her voice.

            “Because I have the right.”

            “What right? You have no right,” Mariette snapped, as much from indignation than from self-defense. The huntsman had stopped at this.

            “Your mother was a witch!” he replied. “And her spawn deserves whatever it gets.”

            “My mother is not a witch.”

            “She is,” the huntsman said, and closed the subject. He began walking towards her again. Mariette squeezed her eyes closed and clutched the letter opener tighter. She waited until she felt the huntsman’s hand on her knee before she rolled onto her stomach, stabbing upward with the letter opener. It met flesh, and the force of her thrust drove the metal through muscle.

            The huntsman yelled in pain. Mariette opened her eyes, watching as he stumbled away from her. Her letter opener had found his chest. He collapsed a few feet away, against the closet door. His blood spread everywhere and after a sputtering cough, his chest fell without rising again.

            She had killed him.

            She let out a choking sob, turning away from the body. “Evan… I… I…” she cried, needing his comfort like she tried to offer before.

            He didn’t move, but gently shushed her. “Don’t cry, Mariette. Had you not, he would have done much worse,” he soothed.

            Mariette slouched. Something bit into her thigh. She wiped her eyes on her shoulder, and moved her leg aside to see what was beneath it. It was the huntsman’s blood-covered knife.

            It took her merely minutes to work through the ropes with the razor-sharp blade.

            Once she had, she was on her feet and running towards the bed. Evan stared up at her with slitted eyes. His breathing was shallow, but he was still conscious. Gently, she removed the ties from his shirt and peeled it back, revealing a lean chest and stomach with a deep wound from the same knife that she had used to free herself. Blood still seeped through.

            Not knowing what else to do, Mariette looked for a clean sheet that she could use to bind the wound. Near the closet, she bend to pick one up, carefully avoiding the corpse, when she heard a knock. Looking up sharply, she determined that the huntsman was in fact, very dead, but there was in fact something knocking.

            Something alive was inside the closet.

            Mariette twisted the knob, thankful that the closet opened in instead of out. She released the handle and the door opened under the weight of the huntsman’s body. Behind the door, bound and gagged, was her grandmother.

            Mariette untied her, helped her up, and led her over to the bed. Her grandmother was a tough old woman, and she would know how to help Evan.

            “My, what a bad injury your friend has,” the white haired woman said. Once, her hair had been as black as Mariette’s. But her eyes still sparkled with the same green color.

            Evan’s eyes were closed, and they did not when her grandmother approached him. He had either fallen asleep or passed out from lack of blood. From his clammy skin, she assumed it was the later of the two. “Can you help him?” She asked, taking his hand it hers.

            Her grandmother nodded. “I can try.”

            Evan was lucky. Her grandmother had determined that nothing vital had been damaged and he would live. Mariette remained by him as much as possible. Inside her basket, her mother had, thankfully, packed first aid supplies. Her grandmother joked that it was perhaps the first time she had used antiseptic.

            Mariette also attempted to help her clean up the tiny cottage that the huntsman had trashed.

            “What happened here?” Mariette asked.

            Her grandmother sighed. “That man has forever hated our family. He apparently decided to take his revenge two days ago. He was waiting until I called your mother, then he struck. He was hoping that she would come, but she sent you instead and you interrupted his plans.”

            “Why did he hate mother so much?” It was the question that she had used to try and stall the huntsman. But she genuinely wanted to know. She only hoped that her grandmother would be able to tell her.

            Her grandmother’s back stiffened slightly and she delayed her answer by tucking a lock of white hair behind her ear. “He loved your mother. As much as a man like that could love, he loved her.

            “She never wanted him, never made any sort of indication that she did, but she was kind to everyone. The huntsman took this as a sign that she loved him as well. When your father started to woe her, the huntsman refused to let him have her. A year after they were married, your father disappeared. His body was found a few days later, drowned, nearby in the lake. Your mother and I knew the huntsman had done it, but she couldn’t prove it, so she did the only thing she could do. She moved herself and her child as far away as she could.”

            Mariette took in her grandmother’s explanation. She thanked her for explaining and bent to pick up a book. What more could she do? The huntsman was already dead, but her hand. His blood had soaked into the floorboards, staining the light wood a much darker color.

            He had killed her father. He had tried to murder her mother. He had tried to rape her. He had tortured Evan. Who knew what he was saving her grandmother for. The remorse she felt for killing him in self defense lessened slightly. There was nothing else she could have done.

            Mariette lay in the grass, staring up at the sky. Evan sat near her, his middle wrapped in a large white bandage and not much else, watching her. His fur shirt had been completely ruined and he refused the cotton shirts that Mariette’s grandmother had offered him.

            “The rains have passed,” Evan told her.

            She nodded, rolling over onto her stomach to meet his eyes. She was again wearing her crimson colored cloak. Despite everything that she had worn it through, it was amazingly clean. No speck of dirt marred it, no water marks or grass stains either.

            “You could have gone home. The path would have been clear to see.”

            “I know.”

            “Why did you stay then? Your grandmother does not need your help.”

            “I couldn’t leave you here alone,” Mariette answered sincerely.

            Evan turned his amber eyes away. Without their match in Reule, they seemed distant. “I will be alone anyway.”

            “You could always come with me.”

            Evan turned back towards her, but did not say a word. There was a silent question in his eyes.

            “I would like it if you were to come with me.”

            Evan smiled. “I would like that too.”

            Mariette reached out her hand and Evan placed his own in her outstretched hand. She mirrored his smile, revealing in his presence and the sunlight. It was ironic, that the boy that saved her when she was lost and alone in the forest would need her to do the same thing. But did it gladly. She had fallen in love with the wolf.

  ~ Fin ~
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            ~ home ~