In this twist on "Little Red Riding Hood," a gifted young woman named "Red" is the protector of a small mountain village. They have grown to depend on her superhuman abilities to answer any threats. In this first scene, a housewife converses with the young shopkeeper in the general store.
Mrs.
Garrity clucked her tongue. "Well, young Junior isn't quite
sleeping through the night yet, but Henny--bless her soul! She's been
a great help to me, tending after Dot and Fred while they're ill, so
I can take care of the housework."
Wendy
nodded at the peculiar array of fresh stains on the apron. "Doing
the week's baking, I see."
Mrs.
Garrity blinked absently. The two dark men dipped their dirty fingers
in the barrels of sugar, fiddled with a few of the children's toys.
They seemed to be waiting for something--Wendy wasn't sure what it
could be.
"What?
Oh," The goodwife glanced down. "Yes, I'm afraid I've
undertaken the bread and cakes for the school social--it's the least
I can do for Schoolmaster Theo, what with the time and energy he
invests in teaching our young ones! That being said, I've run out of
flour. Can I have a pound of it please, and some vanilla if you still
have it?"
Retrieving
the two ingredients would put her closer to the two men who gave her
such unease. Wendy shook her head; if they meant no harm, she had no
business assuming they did!
"Of
course, Mrs. Garrity. Right away."
Wendy
moved toward the flour barrel. She offered the dark men a hopeful
smile. One of them nodded blankly, while the other turned his back as
soon as he caught her looking at them. Wendy fought to keep her hands
steady as she measured out the flour and selected the last small vial
of vanilla extract.
"You're
in luck, Mrs. Garrity!" Her voice came a bit louder than she
intended. "We happen to have one more bottle of--"
One of
the men moved a hand to his side, causing Wendy to flinch. The little
bottle fairly jumped out of her hand and shattered on the floor.
Wendy stared numbly at the small brown pool as the smell of it
permeated the shop.
Mrs.
Garrity clucked her tongue. "Oh, Wendy, I'm so sorry; I'll just
take the flour, that's all right." She dug the coins out of a
small pouch and paid for the pound of flour. For good measure, Wendy
tucked in a small sweet as well. "For Henny," she said,
earning a smile from the overworked woman.
The
two men hadn't moved from the corner of the store. Wendy tended to a
few more customers, keeping a wary eye in case the men tried
something, but it came time that the last customer left and no new
customers had come in--and still the men waited.
Wendy
finally found the sticking point for her courage. She came around the
corner and marched up to the man who had turned his back.
"Can
I help you, gentlemen?" she asked.
At
last, the two men grinned at her, but there was no mirth in their
smiles. A series of clicks, and Wendy saw the barrels of two guns
aimed at her.
"We'll
be needing a few things, yeah," grunted the first man. "Let's
start with the money in the cashbox behind the counter."
Wendy
opened her mouth, but the other man raised his gun. "Not a
sound, lass; it's not worth the trouble, trust us."
The
young woman clapped her mouth shut and yielded the cash box. One man
kept his gun aimed at her while the other actually walked around to
the back of the counter, grabbed a two-yard swath of cloth, and piled
things into it: tools, bullets, bottles of liquor, kerosene, and some
rope. Once they had what they wanted, as a last deed, both men
selected a handful of candies and backed out of the store.
"Pleasure
doing business with ya!" hollered the second man as he left.
The
minute they were gone, Wendy dashed for the back door of the shop.
She picked up the red flag stored just by the door, and slid the pole
into a bracket over the stoop. The townspeople wouldn't blink twice
at a couple of rag-tag men coming out of the store with all that
merchandise--sure, it was more than anyone in Queston could afford in
one transaction, but signing bills of credit promising to pay Wendy
back later was fairly common practice. Only one person could
apprehend the thieves before they got too far. All she could do now
was wait.
The
sun set, and at last Wendy could close up shop for the night. She
shuttered the windows and barred the door. When she reached the back
door, she took one look at the figure in the shadows and jumped so
bad she nearly dropped the lantern in her hand.
"Oh
gracious!"
The
figure--a female--stepped forward, dropping a cloth-wrapped bundle at
her feet.
"Stolen
items?" she asked.
Wendy
nodded, shining her light over the retrieved goods. Everything was
still there, even the cashbox. She tried not to gaze too closely at
the dark stains that now adorned the fabric.
"You
were right to summon me," the figure declared. "Those men
won't be stealing anytime soon."
The
young shopkeeper dragged the bundle inside. "Thank you, Red,"
she said.
"Have
a good night," Red replied, and disappeared into the darkness.
Wendy
sighed, and began replacing all that had been taken to its proper
place.
On the
other side of the village, a husband and wife waited under a red flag
hanging from the upstairs window behind their house. They trembled as
the cold night closed in, but they clutched a small tunic between
them, muttering prayers underneath their breath. Sure enough, their
shadowy protector came.
"What
has happened?"
The
man spoke first. "It's our son, Charlie. He asked to play after
supper, and he has not returned."
"Please,"
begged his wife, holding the tunic out to her. "We need the Wolf
to find him."
Red
took the tunic from the woman's hand. She held it to her face and
inhaled deeply.
"I
have his scent," she said. "The Wolf will find him."
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