Red_A Retelling of Rose-Red and Snow-White

by Summer Donnelly

  “You brought your scissors?” Red asked when she saw them tucked in the bottom of her apron.

  “I thought I’d collect some herbs on our way home. I don’t like the way the clouds look, and this might be our last chance to gather fresh herbs before winter sets in.”

  “We’ll go together,” Red said, linking her arm with Snow’s.

  “But no cutting through the forest,” Snow said.

  “Agreed.”

  As they arrived at the small bakery in the center of the village, Snow went in to clean and begin the daily bread baking. Red opened the shutters and swept the front stoop of its collection of leaves and debris. Soon dawn turned the tide on the night and pushed its darkness away for a few hours.

  Red paused, her nose twitching like a rabbit as she caught the base scent of old lettuce. She flinched away from the wind and held the corner of her shawl over her nostrils. Something must have died in the woods and was left rotting.

  Fear rose as she wondered about the location of the disappearing locals. Could the stench help them locate their missing neighbors?

  Just as the first loaves of bread came out of the oven, their first customers arrived. Bread day was like that, Red mused.

  “Mrs. Franklin. Lowell,” Red greeted the woman and her son with a smile. “Can I interest you in some bread today? Maybe an extra loaf? It looks like we are in for a storm tonight. No one is going to want to come into the village tomorrow, are they?”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Franklin said, one eyebrow arched as though catching Red in a tall tale. “Are you and your sister going to take the day off?”

  Red’s smile stayed in place even if her jaw clenched with both shock and anger. “We usually come, even during storms,” Red replied through gritted teeth. “Surely you must remember the storm we had last spring?” she asked, knowing full well that neither Mrs. Franklin nor her odious son Lowell had come near the village.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Franklin answered, accepting the loaves of bread Red handed her. “Do get the door for your mother, dear,” she said to her son.

  After giving Red a glance that made her crave a bath, they left. “Ugh, those two drive me crazy,” she complained as she walked into the kitchen. Red pushed the window over the sink open and sniffed the wind. “Can you smell that, Snow? It’s like something is rotting in the woods.”

  Snow looked up, her sage green eyes darting from her sister to the open window. She bit her lip and nodded. “Close the window, please. I smelled it earlier but didn’t want to say anything. Let’s bake and fill the air with the smell of yeast and sugar cookies.”

  Red’s head tilted to one side as she contemplated her sister. “Why did you keep it from me?”

  Snow’s hands trembled imperceptibly as she mixed lemon into her sugar cookies. “I didn’t want to admit you might be right.” Her gaze darted around the room. “I wonder if this is how a rabbit feels. I feel like we’re being watched all the time,” she confessed. “Like we’re prey or living in some kind of prison with invisible bars.”

  Snow looked up from scooping the cookies. “And yes, I know that sounds crazy. But between you and Mother, it’s like I’m suffocating and I don’t know why.”

  “Don’t bake angry,” Red chided. She washed her hands and gently hip bumped her sister out of the way. “You know it makes the cookies taste bitter.”

  Snow nodded and took the now cool loaves of bread out the cooling window. The warm, welcoming scent of freshly baked bread filled the bakery and guaranteed hungry customers. Red heard the bell over the door chime, and Snow sighed of relief. Whatever Snow was feeling, customers would be a welcome distraction.

  A loud chuff came from beneath the window over the sink. Red looked up, surprised she hadn’t closed it earlier. She put the first two batches of cookies into the oven and went to investigate.

  Red’s spring-green eyes opened with shock. Standing on his hind legs was the biggest bear she had ever seen. “Well. Hello there,” she said, still in shock.

  The bear carefully sniffed the bakery. After giving it a proper inspection, he dropped to all fours and proceeded to rub his head, neck, and flanks against the building. He stood again and rubbed his back, right between his shoulder blades, along the wall.

  “Do you have an itch?” Red asked, but then realized he was marking his territory. By some strange bear-logic, he had decided the Cake Fairy would fall under his protection. The bear reached out, claws at the ready and scratched down the side of the wall.

  “Hey, stop that!” Red shouted. Unthinking, she stormed out of the kitchen and into the small courtyard. “This is our building, and those claws will make a mess.”

  The bear tilted his head to one side as if to say “Seriously? A puny human is calling me out?”

  Red paused as the realization of her own vulnerability crashed into her. Fear and outrage warred within her as she stared into the brown eyes of the bear that was completely out of her weight class. But she remembered her mother’s words and lifted her chin. Even threw a hair toss in for good measure. “You don’t scar up our building, you hear?” she said.

  The bear chuffed, and Red nodded as if they had just reached a peace accord after a mighty battle. The timer for the cookies went off, and Red turned to go back into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? If you give me a minute, we have fresh cookies.”

  The bear nodded, chuffed, and settled down for his treat.

  Red turned and saw Snow standing in the doorway, her little pen-sized stick pulled and at the ready. Her skin was as white as her name, as though all the blood had drained from her cheeks. Red held out her hand and touched her sister’s icy cold one. “It’s okay. He won’t scar up the building anymore.”

  “That’s…” Snow began, but her fear choked her voice.

  The oven timer dinged, and Red slipped past her sister to pull them out of the oven. Once they were all out, Red spread them on a rack to cool. The warm, homey fragrance of lemon and butter filled the small bakery. Red opened her mouth to say something to her sister but noticed something was not quite right.

  Snow was frozen in her fear, staring at the watchful brown eyes of their new bear friend. She swallowed, opened her mouth to say something, only to close it when nothing emerged from her closed off throat.

  “Snow, honey, maybe you should leave Bear alone. You’re scaring him.”

  That seemed to break the ice around Snow’s mind. She turned incredulous sage-green eyes towards Red. “I’m scaring him?” she shrieked. Red winced as her sister’s decibel level rose. “Me? A twenty-year-old in an apron is somehow scaring an eight-hundred-pound brown bear?”

  “Yes, dear. He hasn’t tried to hurt either of us. I think Bear is trying to be friendly.”

  “Friendly? He’s a bear,” Snow said, hysteria keeping her voice uneven and shrill.

  “I think we’ve established that,” Red said. She took a small plate of cookies and put them in the courtyard. “But I think he’s friendly,” Red offered. “I mean, he hasn’t tried to eat us or anything. That has to count for something.” She sat down, and Bear sniffed around her before settling his large body next to Red. He rested his head in her lap, and Red laughed with the thrill of excitement. “See? He wants cookies.”

  Red fed him one, and he took it like the gentleman he was.

  Bear’s eyes lit up (if such a thing was possible, Red thought) and wolfed – beared? – the cookies down as though they were the best treat in the world.

  Which they were, Red thought, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her sister made them, after all.

  Chapter Four

  The clouds gathered and grew sullen as the hour grew late.

  “I think we should close the store up early,” Snow said. She pulled out a basket and loaded it with several loaves of bread.

  Red placed several loafs in a bag and tied it to the front door. “I’ll put a few here in case anyone comes by,” she said. She paused to look out over the village to her left and the woods to her right. �
��I can’t see Bear anymore,” she said.

  “Just as well,” Snow said, shivering. “I can’t believe you made friends with a bear,” she muttered. She swung her ivory cloak around her shoulders. “Let’s go. We should have enough time to gather the parsley and rosemary before the rains come.”

  The sisters set off down the lane but stopped when a tremendous clap of thunder echoed around them. The long way home, through town and across the valley stretched before them in an almost never-ending journey. But the path through the woods beckoned.

  “We really shouldn’t,” Snow said even as she followed her sister.

  “We will get soaked straight through to our skin if we take the long way home,” Red predicted. “There is a rosemary plant just inside the woods and the parsley is only a little way in,” she said. “We’ll stay together. We have weapons. Now, let’s go.”

  Holding hands, the two girls entered the woods. For a moment, they were surrounded by the overwhelming stench of wet leaves and old lettuce as though there was an invisible fence surrounding the woods. Holding their noses, they pushed through the stench until they were in the forest, proper. “We’ll skirt the edge,” Snow said.

  “Of course,” Red answered, but her voice trailed as something caught her attention. “Look, there’s my bear,” Red said, her eyes lit with excitement. She pointed to her sister and the bear chuffed his greeting. “I feel so much better now. He’ll protect us and follow us home.”

  Snow looked at her sister as though she’d sprouted a second head or declared she hated cookies. “Oh yes,” she said, her voice flat and deadpan. “A bear following me through a dark wood is such a comfort.”

  Red chuckled at her sister. “Well, maybe some bears. But this is my bear, and I’m sure he’ll keep me safe.”

  “That’s great for you,” Snow said as they left the safety of town further behind. “But what about me?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Red scoffed. “Without you, he’d have no cookies.”

  “That makes me feel so much better.” After a few more feet, Snow looked around. “There. There’s the parsley patch.” She pulled out her scissors and trimmed off several bunches. The rosemary was a little further off the path, but she’d had an urge to bake rosemary bread.

  “Got it,” Snow said. “Now, let’s get going before either the storm hits or your bear eats me.” While the girls walked, night approached like roiling tendrils of fog. At first, it was a velvety blue surrounding them and skewing their vision.

  “It’s getting dark awful fast, isn’t it?” Snow asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “Not at all,” Red said, licking her lips nervously. “We’ll be home before we know it. Let’s just follow the trail.”

  Slow, fat drops of rain began falling through what was left of the late autumn tree canopy. Their feet slowed as each layer of light dissolved into shadows. Darkness embraced the girls and held them prisoner in the woods.

  “What should we do?” Snow whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Red replied. “Bear? Can you get us home?” But the only sounds they heard was the rushing of raindrops on dried, toffee colored leaves. The sisters looked at each other, reaching to touch the other’s hand for comfort. Tension built between them, as each one mulled over the decisions which had brought them to this point.

  Snow worried that it was her fault. Her craving for rosemary was going to force them into finding shelter and spending the night. Oh, why hadn’t she listened to Sheriff Avery? She shivered with fear at the thought of the cold, lonely night and a bitter driving wind tore at her cloak.

  For the life of her, Red couldn’t figure out where Bear had gone. It may have sounded silly to her sister, but she was counting on him to help guide them home. “Bear?” she called out again, kneeling in the underbrush to see if she could spy him in the darkness.

  “Maybe he’s home in his den and wondering why two hare-brained girls are out wandering around the woods in the middle of the night.” Snow’s teeth began chattering with both her cold and fear. “Mother is probably crazed with worry about us.”

  Red stood. “We are not hare-brained. How were we to know it would get dark this quickly? Now, the path is clearly marked. We’ll know if we stray off it when we hit a tree. Let’s go.” Red took her sister’s arm and propelled her trembling sister forward.

  “Help!”

  Snow and Red turned to look at each other, the clouds parted momentarily and cast enough light to see their pale, frightened faces.

  “What was that?” Red asked.

  “Who was that?” Snow asked.

  “Help!”

  “It came from this way,” Red said. “And look. Whoever it is has a lantern.”

  “That’s weird,” Snow said, following her sister. “Why didn’t we see it before?”

  “Probably missed it in your panic,” Red said.

  Snow sighed, knowing it wasn’t worth it to call her sister out on the fact that they were both afraid.

  “Gaul!”

  Snow slammed into her sister’s stopped form with a giant “oof” of breath. Snow peered around Red’s maroon cloak and frowned in confusion. Their neighbor Gaul was stuck, his beard caught between two rocks.

  “What happened?” Red asked, taking in the situation but not seeing how the older man had become stuck.

  “What does it look like happened?” the older man said grumpily. “I’m caught. That’s all you two dunderheads need to know. Now release me!”

  Snow and Red worked together to move at least one of the rocks, but Gaul’s beard was well and truly caught.

  “I’m going to need to trim your beard,” Snow said. She pulled out her scissors and amidst many insults and screams, snipped Gaul’s beard until he could escape.

  “My beard! You ruined my beautiful beard. What am I going to do now? Oh, to be cursed with such simpleton neighbors.”

  Red gritted her teeth. “You’re welcome, Gaul. Now, can you help get us home? It got dark, and we can’t find our way without a light.”

  “Bah, that’s no concern of mine,” Gaul scoffed. “You ruined my beard, now off with you both before I get mad.”

  A cruel, wily look came into his eyes, and Red and Snow drew closer to each other. “Let’s go,” Snow said, chin in the air. “We don’t need his insults or his lantern.”

  The bellow of an angry bear echoed off the trees, startling all three of them.

  “The bear,” Gaul said with a cold, clever look glinting in his eyes. He took off towards the sound, abandoning his lantern.

  “Should we go after the bear?” Snow asked with obvious reluctance.

  Red shook her head and grabbed the lantern. “No, he’s okay. That was him drawing Gaul away from us. Let’s go.” The two girls darted back towards the path, shocked to discover they were almost to the edge of the forest and the sanctuary of their home.

  The cabin in the clearing was a well-lit beacon, guiding them home. As soon as the sisters were within sight of their home, Red blew out the lantern and left it for Gaul to find.

  “Girls! I was so worried about you,” Olga shouted as they came into view. “Get in,” she said, fussing over them like a hen. “Oh, my goodness, you girls are soaked. Take your cloaks off and get warm by the fire. I have soup on. Let me take care of you. Goodness, Snow, you’re shaking, darling. Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, Mother, I was so scared,” Snow said, seeking her mother’s embrace. “Red was brave, but I’m afraid I was shaking. We got lost in the woods, and then Gaul was there. And the bear. I’m never going into the woods again. I swear!”

  “It was enough you were standing with me, Snow,” Red said with an encouraging pat on her sister’s back. “If you hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I could have found the strength.”

  “Hush, children,” Olga said, stroking her daughter’s back. She guided Snow into a chaise pushed close to the fire. “Let me get you a cup of tea and dinner, my sweets, okay?”

  Olga held her hand out to R
ose. When Red took it, they embraced. “I’m so thankful you girls kept your heads. I was scared, too.”

  As realization she was safe sank in, Snow began to sob quietly. She gratefully accepted the cup of hot sweet tea her mother handed her and gradually began to calm down.

  “I take no credit for keeping our heads,” she said with a shared smile at her sister. “That was all Red’s doing.”

  “Stop, Snow. Please. You stayed with me. Beside me. And Bear was there,” Red confided with a shy blush. “He gave me strength when I was scared.”

  Olga stirred her tea cup as the three women sat around the fire and allowed the events of the adrenaline-fueled day begin to wane.

  “Bear and Gaul again?” Olga asked. “Those two seem to be in the same places a lot.”

  “Oh, Mother, Gaul got his whiskers caught between two rocks. Red and I tried to move them, but they were too heavy and wet from the rain. I had to trim his beard a little, and he used absolutely foul language at me,” Snow said.

  Olga’s eyes sharpened. “Did he now? That’s interesting.” She stood and walked to the window in the kitchen and stared out into the storm-tossed night. “Some people say that some creatures hold their power in their beard.”

  Red tilted her head in thought. “Creature? But Gaul is a man, isn’t he?”

  “He does appear to be,” Olga said. “But wouldn’t a man be grateful to Snow for freeing him from his position?”

  “You would think,” Snow said tartly.

  Each of the women paused in reflection and quiet descended upon the cabin. Only the sparse snapping and popping of the fireplace combined with the wind to create a haunting melody.

  Bam, Bam, Bam

  Snow’s breath caught, and her eyes went to the oak door, and whatever was on the other side. The rushing sound in her ears echoed, and she felt an echo of the terror from the woods.

  Bam, Bam, Bam

  Red turned to go towards the door, but Olga held out her aging hand and caught her passionate, impulsive daughter mid-stride. “Not so fast, dear. What if it’s Gaul?”

  Red set her chin. “I’m not afraid of him.”