Red

by Liesl Shurtliff

  “Oh, Granny, what big eyes you have.”

  She said nothing. Perhaps she could not hear me. I stepped closer and spoke a little louder.

  “Oh, Granny, what big ears you have.”

  Nothing. I stepped closer, my face inches from the wolf’s mouth. “Oh, Granny, what big teeth you have!”

  Granny reached up and pulled off the wolf’s head and smiled with teeth that were large indeed. Too large to be Granny’s.

  Because it wasn’t Granny in the bed.

  It was Horst.

  I screamed and turned to run, but Horst snatched me by the cloak. I twisted and yanked to get free, but his grip was like iron. I reached up and undid the clasp of my cloak. It sent me pitching forward, but I caught myself in time and burst through the door.

  “Goldie, run! It’s Horst! Run!” I tripped over a tree root and tumbled to the ground.

  “Red!” Goldie cried, pointing behind me. Horst came slowly toward me, my cloak still clutched in his fist. I tried to stand, but gasped with pain and faltered. I’d twisted my ankle.

  A cold, hard hand wrapped around my arm and lifted me off the ground.

  “Why are you afraid, little Red?” Horst said. “I only want to help.”

  I struggled to free myself. I kicked Horst as hard as I could and screamed as sharp pangs shot up my leg, but Horst did not let go. He didn’t even wince.

  “What did you do to Granny?” I demanded.

  Horst smiled. It split across his withered face, sinister and grotesque. “You’ll never see your granny again, not unless you give me the wolf.”

  “I won’t!” I shouted, and yanked harder, straining my wrist.

  “I must have a heart, Red. If you don’t give me the wolf, then I’ll have to find another heart.” Horst brandished his long knife. “One I already have in my grasp.”

  Wolf growled, and bounded out of the trees. He attacked Horst, clamping his jaws around his neck.

  “Wolf, no!” I shouted. Horst released me and heaved Wolf off of him. There was no blood where Wolf had bitten him, only teeth and claw marks, like gouges in clay. Wolf came at Horst again, growling, biting, and clawing, to no avail.

  Horst’s knife glinted silver as it slashed through the air. Wolf yelped and fell to the ground. I screamed and stumbled toward him, but Horst grabbed me by my hair.

  Goldie attacked Horst, pummeling him with her tiny fists. “Stop it! Let her go, you mean man!”

  Horst gave Goldie a small shove, and she fell.

  “Goldie, run!” I shouted. “Get away as fast as you can!”

  She shook her head. “I can’t leave you! You’ll die!”

  Horst pulled my hair tighter. He pressed his knife to my throat. “Better run, little girl, before you meet the same fate as your friend.”

  Goldie kept shaking her head, tears running down her face.

  I knew she wouldn’t leave just to save herself. She was too kind, too loyal. But it was me Horst wanted. Me and Wolf. I couldn’t allow Goldie to get hurt because of me.

  “Goldie, I need you to get help. Run as fast as you can. Shout for help as loud as you can!”

  Goldie wiped her tears. She stood up and ran through the trees, wailing for help.

  I struggled once more to free myself, flinching at the cold blade against my skin.

  “It looks as though your wolf friend won’t be able to run from me any longer.”

  Wolf lay injured and helpless on the ground. He whined a little and struggled to get up, but fell back down.

  And I had nothing to protect him. No path. No cloak. I was just a little girl. Just Red.

  Red.

  The tree nymphs rushed above me in the branches, whispering, clicking, sprinkling memories, and I remembered.

  My name was supposed to be powerful. It was supposed to be full of magic, like the red wine, the roses, and rubies. But it wasn’t just my name. It was myself. I was full of magic. Granny said so. She said I was born with magic, and I heard her words now.

  Red, don’t be afraid.

  Don’t be afraid of what? A wolf? A huntsman? Death? Or was I only afraid of myself? My own destiny. My own magic, big and messy and—yes, sometimes it made fire and warts and roses out the nose, but that didn’t mean it was evil. That didn’t mean I couldn’t be good.

  I’d seen magic cause so many problems. Horrible curses, heartache, death. But I’d also seen it charm, delight, and heal. Inside of me, there was magic. I could feel it boiling to the surface, burning like rivers of fire in my veins. I had tried so hard to shove it down, to make it go away, but now it could not be contained.

  I threw myself at Horst, releasing fiery magic so strong that it knocked him off his feet and sent him crashing into a tree. The tree gave a sickening crack. Horst was not hurt, only surprised. His eyes widened, and I saw the faintest flicker of fear in them, but then he steeled himself. He gnashed his teeth and rushed at me, roaring with beastly rage.

  I stood my ground in front of Wolf. My heart pounded. It seemed to echo a spell, one that was all my own.

  I am fearless.

  I am magic.

  I am Red.

  Horst raised his knife for one final attack to end it all. He cried out, and the blade came down, down, down, its sharp point hurtling toward my drumming, magic heart.

  But the knife stopped just inches from my chest. Horst struggled, grunting with effort as he pressed it toward me, but some force pushed him back. I could feel the power emanating from me, springing from every part of me like branches growing out of a tree, like rays shooting from the sun. Horst grimaced. A crack formed in his hand. He trembled, pushing harder, until the crack spread up his arm and spiderwebbed over his knuckles. His skin turned a sickly gray, and more cracks crawled up his neck and face.

  Horst’s eyes grew panicked. All the fear he’d kept so carefully hidden now flooded to the surface. He emitted a deep groan, like a cave about to collapse. He dropped his knife and reached a hand out toward me in desperation until his fingers stiffened and crumbled like chalk. He fell to one knee, and his leg was crushed beneath the weight. The muscles in his neck tightened. His eyes turned dusty gray and hollow. Horst stretched his jaw in a silent scream as his whole body became solid stone.

  A flurry of nymphs rushed down from the trees and swarmed around him then, whispering and clicking hungrily, drinking in the old huntsman’s centuries of memories. They flew around him, faster and faster, building up a powerful cyclone, until the stone huntsman cracked in two, then disintegrated into a pile of dust.

  As the power ebbed from me, my limbs grew cold. The Woods grew utterly still and silent. I felt I was in a place I had never been before. The world felt different—or perhaps it was me who was different.

  Wolf whimpered beneath me, pulling me from my trance. I fell to the ground and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was bleeding, but I couldn’t tell how many wounds he had or how deep they were. My cloak lay on the ground beside him. I wrapped it around his body, pressing it into his wounds. Wolf whimpered and placed a paw on my knee.

  Monster, he said. Gone.

  “Yes,” I said. “The monster is gone. You’re safe now.” I propped his head in my lap, and he seemed to relax.

  A wind rushed through the trees, scattering the pile of dust that had been Horst the huntsman. Not dead. Just gone. Erased. No more. The magic he had sought so desperately to stop death had also stopped his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The Fate of Granny

  I don’t know how long Wolf and I remained alone in The Woods, whether it was minutes or hours, but eventually someone came for us.

  “Red!” came a voice. Wolf sat up, his hackles raised and his ears pricked.

  “It’s all right.” I tried to calm him. “It’s just Goldie.”

  But she wasn’t alone. Someone else was with her, and the presence spooked Wolf. He growled low, feeling threatened. “Don’t be afraid,” I said. “No one will hurt you.”

  “There she is! She’
s there with the wolf!” Goldie said. The person following Goldie started to run.

  “Red?” It was a familiar voice, deep, edged with worry.

  “Papa?”

  I recognized his tall, strong frame. He carried an ax over his shoulder. Wolf bolted upright and growled, louder this time. Papa came after him with his ax. “Get away from her! Get!”

  “No, don’t!” I shouted. Wolf did not attack. He whimpered in fear and stumbled back. Papa stomped forward, brandishing his ax. Wolf turned and limped away through the trees.

  “Wolf, wait!” I called. I stood and tried to go after him, but pain lanced up my leg. I had forgotten about my ankle. I grew dizzy. The earth seemed to tilt beneath me, and I fell.

  “Red.” Papa bent down and scooped me up in his arms. I pressed my head against his shoulder, comforted by his familiar smell of wood and wool. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Wolf,” I mumbled. “He’s hurt.”

  “The wolf can’t hurt you anymore,” he said.

  “No.” I tried to explain, but I couldn’t form the words. I could barely think, I was so tired. Papa carried me through The Woods, away from Wolf and toward home.

  The house was warm, but I felt cold inside. Papa sat me in a chair by the fire, and Mama was fussing all over me.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Where are you hurt? Where did all this blood come from?” Mama brought a warm wet cloth and dabbed at my face. The cloth turned dark crimson.

  “Wolf,” I muttered. I needed to go to him, make sure he was all right.

  “A wolf!” Mama exclaimed. “I told you she shouldn’t be roaming alone through The Woods!”

  “The huntsman,” I started to explain.

  “What about the huntsman? Did he kill the wolf?”

  “He tried to kill the wolf,” said Goldie. “He tried to kill Red, too, and me, too! He wanted our Magic Hearts!”

  “What?” Mama looked back and forth between Goldie and me, completely befuddled. “Red, what is she talking about?”

  “Wolf…the huntsman…,” I tried to explain, but I was interrupted by a goat.

  Maa-a-a-aaa!

  “Milk?” I said.

  “Blasted goat,” said Papa. “I don’t know why she insists on keeping it indoors.”

  “She’s a good guard goat!” said a voice, weak and hoarse but familiar. “Saved me from a terrible monster!”

  My breath caught. My heart stopped. The voice was like a spell. It lifted me off the chair and pulled me over to Mama and Papa’s room. Milk the guard goat was tethered to the bedpost, and in the bed was Granny. She was thin and pale. She was coughing into a handkerchief, and it sounded terrible, but she was alive. Granny was alive!

  “Red, is that you? It’s about time! I told your mama and papa you’d be just fine, but they got in such a tizzy it gave me a headache!”

  My eyes blurred. A lump formed in my throat, and it grew until I couldn’t breathe, and something had to give. Tears burst from me like water from a broken dam.

  “Good grief, child, what is the matter with you?”

  “I…I thought you were dead!”

  “Dead? What made you think I was dead?”

  “Because you said you were dying.”

  “Well, of course I’m dying. Everybody dies. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

  “I know!” I laughed a little, and then I cried harder. I couldn’t stop. There was just so much inside me, an endless well of feeling that I’d shoved down deep, wrapped up tight. Now it was bursting forth all at once, and it made me dizzy. My legs gave out beneath me. Papa picked me up in his arms and held me to his chest.

  “Good grief,” Granny repeated.

  Papa carried me to the bed and laid me down gently next to Granny. Mama took off my shoes and stockings. “Her ankle is swollen,” she said, and the reminder brought back the throbbing pain. She wrapped cool cloths around it, then tucked me beneath the blankets.

  “Granny,” I said.

  “I’m right here, child,” she said softly, and placed her hand in mine. I squeezed hard. It was old and wrinkled, but warm and alive.

  “Don’t die,” I said.

  “I won’t if you won’t,” she said.

  “Am I dying?” I asked. It felt as though I could be.

  “No,” said Granny. “You’re living. We’re all living. Now close your eyes, child. Sleep.”

  I believe she put a sleeping spell on me, because I closed my eyes and didn’t wake for two days. I dreamt of Wolf wandering through The Woods, wounded and alone. I heard him howling, high and lonesome. I needed to find him, but I couldn’t open my eyes.

  When I finally woke, the house was quiet. Granny was sleeping beside me. It must have been early morning, the perfect opportunity for me to slip out of the house and into The Woods to find Wolf. I slid out of bed and gasped at the pain in my ankle. The swelling had gone down, but it was still tender. I hobbled toward the door.

  Maaaaaa! bleated Milk. She was chewing on some grass at the foot of the bed.

  “Hush!” I said. “Do you want to wake the whole house?”

  Maaaaaa! Milk repeated, and Mama came rushing into the room.

  “Tattletale,” I said.

  “Red, what are you doing?” Mama took me by the arm and led me back to bed. “You’re not fit to walk!”

  “I have to find Wolf,” I said. “He needs help.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you fevered?” She felt my forehead. I was not fevered, but the more I tried to explain about Wolf and his needing my help, the more Mama thought I was addled and needed more rest.

  “A wolf has other wolves to take care of him,” said Mama. “But you’re a human, and humans need rest.”

  Mama kept me in bed for a full week, and whenever I tried to escape, Milk the guard goat ratted me out. Goldie tried to visit every day, sometimes twice a day, but Mama would not allow her in until I was fully rested and my ankle was healed. When she was satisfied with my recovery, Mama allowed a short visit. Goldie marched in carrying a clay pot. She held it out to me, beaming, and I noticed that she had several red welts on her face and arms.

  “Guess what?” She shoved the pot into my lap and I opened it up. It was honey.

  “I can charm bees now!” She scratched at a welt on her cheek. “Almost. A few didn’t take to my charming so much, but that doesn’t matter, because guess what? I found something even better than honey. Mummy! My mummy came to find me! And I must have found some kind of magic, because she loves me, Red! She says she loves me more than anything in the entire world and that I should never run away ever again!”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said.

  “And guess what? Mummy says we can stay on The Mountain if I can find enough honey hives. I’ve found five, not including yours. You still need to put your name on it, though. We’re going to sell the honey so I can stay here and be your best friend in the whole world forever as long as you live. So live a long time, okay?”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I got a mouthful of her curls, which made me sneeze.

  “All right, Goldie girl,” said Granny. “Back away before you smother my only grandchild with that hair of yours.”

  Goldie released me from her choke hold but leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Your granny’s a little scary.”

  “I know,” I said. “She is a witch, after all.”

  “I heard that,” said Granny. “Now shoo. I want to talk to my grandchild alone.”

  Goldie scurried out of the room but then popped her head back in and said, “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

  The room was very still and quiet after Goldie left. Granny hadn’t spoken much since I’d been here. She slept a lot, and when she was awake, it seemed as though every movement and every word took a great deal of energy, so she said and did only the things that really mattered. It seemed a wise way to live, in any case.

  “You went on quite an adventure,” she said.

  I nodded. “I met
a dwarf,” I said.

  “At last! Was he terribly grumpy?”

  “Worse than you in the morning.”

  “Hmph,” said Granny. “Did you take him by the beard, then?”

  “I did,” I said. “His name is Borlen, and wouldn’t you know it? He’s the same dwarf you took by the beard all those years ago.”

  “You don’t say!”

  I nodded again. “He’s two hundred and seventy-six years old! Did you know that dwarves can live for a thousand years?”

  “I didn’t!” said Granny.

  “And do you know what they do with the gems they find? They eat them!”

  “Eat them?” Granny seemed genuinely shocked, which was rare as rubies. “Maybe that’s why they’re so grouchy. He was a nasty little brute, that dwarf.”

  “Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so nasty if you hadn’t stolen all his gems.”

  “I didn’t steal anything!” Granny said indignantly. “That little vagabond stole them from the prince!”

  I shook my head. “The prince stole them from Borlen. He was only getting them back.”

  Granny’s cheeks turned rosy. “Well. How was I supposed to know? He was a perfect little beast to me.”

  Speaking of beasts…

  “Borlen showed me some Red Roses, ones that will make you live forever. They were made by a powerful enchantress.”

  “Oh?” Granny shifted uncomfortably.

  “Granny, why did you turn Beauty into a beast?”

  Granny scoffed. “I did nothing of the kind! She turned herself into a beast, the foolish brat.”

  “She’s different now,” I said. “Can’t you change her back?”

  “If she’s really different, then she’ll be able to change herself back,” said Granny. “But she won’t live forever if she becomes human.”

  “That’s better than being a beast forever, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” said Granny. “I was afraid you were going to turn me into a beast to keep me from dying.”

  “I nearly did,” I said. “And I almost brought you wine that would have made you young again.”