Red Wolfe (3 page)

She left to wander the village still carrying
Madame
Danielle’s basket. Her steps were slow and her mind deep in thought. A man who preyed on young girls? That would be quite the twist. She was already forming the story plot in her mind when she happened upon a tiny bookstore. She adjusted the basket again and entered.

Two small children, one boy and one g
irl, were playing on the floor with a deck of cards and marbles, but  the moment they saw Ellena they jumped up and fled to a back room. The books were old, terribly so with tattered covers and yellow pages. The shop keep appeared and Ellena asked if she had any books about folklore. The woman waved for her to follow and led Ellena to the far end of the store.  She carefully set the basket down as the store owner returned to her desk, keeping a wary eye on her.

Ellena
found an old version of
Beauty and the Beast.
Ah! What luck, another one of her favorite tales. Tucking it under her arm she continued down the row.  Before long she came a book that had not only
Little Red Riding Hood
, but also
Bluebeard.
These would do nicely. She paid for her newly acquired treasures and asked the other woman if she heard of a
Madame
Danielle. The woman had not. Ellena, feeling a little discouraged, set off to find a place to eat. It was nearly noon and some warm soup was what she was craving. She headed back to the inn where
Madame
Catherine would surely be serving a mid-day meal that would suite her palate. It would also give her some time to explore her new books.

It was st
ill snowing when she returned to the empty inn.
Madame
Catherine was shuffling about, but stopped to show her one and only border to one of the plush chairs and helped her sit before heading towards the kitchen. She still had not found
Madame
Danielle which struck her as strange. Surely, in such a small town people would have known of her and where she lived. At least,
Monsieur
Ansel had known of her which gave Ellena some hope that she hadn’t imagined the old, peasant woman. 

She could already smell the French onion when
Madame
Catherine came from the back with a bowl of soup. Ellena loved French onion. It was just what she needed to warm her insides and chase the cold away. Groping through her bag, she pulled her books free and gently opened their well-worn covers. A gentle ‘clink’ brought her eyes up to see
Madame
Catherine setting a cup of hot chocolate down on the table. Ellena thanked her and took the drink in her hands, but not before inspecting the little chipped teacup. It was light blue, handed painted with delicate golden accents and suited her very nicely.

Hours passed, but Ellena was too consumed in her own world to notice.
No one came or went. The only sound was the fire crackling. She read all the way through
Bluebeard
while clutching her cup. She had forgotten how scary this tale had been, but she wanted to read all that could to get a full understanding of French traditions and their style of writing. Taking a sip, she turned to the page where a picture of a young girl wearing a red cape greeted her. With her blonde, curly hair and bright blue eyes, she was a perfect depiction of old world drawings.  Above the picture read
The Tale of
Little Red Riding Hood.

She sank deeper into her seat and stretched her neck. It was snowing harder now. The window across the room revealed nothing but a flurry of white flakes as they angrily swarmed. She had made it back just in time.

There it was, still quietly resting—the basket. Maybe it
would
be a good idea to look inside? Scouring the town was not working and she was growing concerned that she may never see the old woman again. Maybe whatever was inside would help her find its rightful owner. In the end, after several minutes of debating with herself on what to do, she had decided to leave it alone. She would try looking again tomorrow and hope that her persistence paid off. With that decided, Ellena returned to her reading.

This version was different than any other she had ever come across. There wasn’t any axe man i
n this tale and the grandmother along with the girl tricks the wolf, ultimately drowning him when he tries to come down the chimney.
Monsieur
Ansel had been right about one thing. The wolf, no matter in which account, always died. One way or another, he always met a horrible end and she wondered what ever became of the mysterious man from Ansel’s story.

A layer of
snow was gathering in the window seal and only growing bigger by the time she returned to her room. A cold breeze sliced through the warm air coming from the still burning fireplace and Ellena rushed to close the window. She was saddened to discover that her little bird was gone, but as she went to latch the window his red form suddenly appeared among the white flakes.

“
You came back!” Ellena smiled. “You better come in now before I close it.”

She was surprised to see him
hop past her and fly over and perch atop the basket’s woven handle. Ellena had never seen a bird so brazen around humans and she began to wonder if perhaps at one time he had been someone’s pet.

“You sure are a brave lit
tle thing,” Ellena softly spoke. “But I guess being in here sure beats being out there.” The cardinal bounced along the handle as if trying to respond to her. “Don’t you dare do anything to that basket,” she warned. “And you know what I mean.”

It began to peck and pull at the white
handkerchief and before Ellena could shoo him away, the handkerchief had already fallen away, partially revealing what was inside. A sliver of crimson peeked out from the basket to reveal a gorgeous red cape!

Something felt strange. She couldn’t tell what, but a wave of butterflies
was fluttering in her stomach. Why would
Madame
Danielle have this—a red hood, just like the one from the story? This had to be a coincidence. What other explanation was there? Even as she said it, she didn’t believe it. There was more to this than met the eye and Ellena now was more determined than ever to find the old woman. 

                   Chapter Three

She rose early the next day and was out and on the town before breakfast could even be served. Her feet where steady and unwavering as she walked through the streets, heading for the only other person who seemed to know of
Madame
Danielle’s existence. A foot of snow had accumulated on the paths, crunching under her steps as she walked. She was the only person, as far as she could tell, who had dared to venture outside.

A soft bell rang as she opened the door to Ansel’
s bakery. No customers were there, but the sweet scent of breads and sweeties filled her nose.

“I was hoping you’d come by today.”
Monsieur
Ansel walked from the back of his bakery with a tray of breads and went to put them out in his window display. “Pick anything you want. It’s one the house.”

She excitedly picked one of the delicious looking blueberry scones and Ansel brought her
a cup of coffee as he sat down with his own mug.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,”
Ellena said.

“You flatter my ego,” he grinned. “How is your stay so far?”

“Very enjoyable, but a little unpredictable.”

“Ah! The winning formula for a
n unforgettable experience.”

“
Monsieur
Ansel,” Ellena finished her scone and brought the coffee up to her lips. She took a sip before asking the question that had been on her tongue for some time. “Have you seen
Madame
Danielle this morning?”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t. I
can see you still have her basket.” He glanced at the object resting at her feet.

“I know you said that you didn’t know where she lived, but is there somewhere that she goes to often? Perhaps a store that she visits?”

“I don’t know of any place in town, but I do know I have often seen her down by the very edge of town where the forest begins to take over.” He must have recognized a look on Ellena’s face because his next words were dark and warning. “Do not go there.”

“Why not?” Ellena asked, a little offended.

“It’s far from safe. Wild animals have been known to come from those woods, even wolves.”

Ellena
took a sip of her coffee. She may not have responded, but her stubborn streak began to rise. If an old peasant woman could chance the dangers of the forest edge so could she.

“
Mademoiselle
Ellena,” she looked up in surprise. It was the first time he had ever addressed her in such a way. “Please, do not go there. I can’t stop you from doing so if you are dead set on it, but I will make one last plea. That old woman is crazy, always has been and I urge you not to follow her.”

Ellena had not gone to the forest,
at least not yet. After slowly wandering the street with the basket in her hands, she had returned to her room. She now stood, gazing out of the window into the untamed wilderness. Crossing her arms she leaned closer, letting her fingers run along the sleeve of her red coat.

Who knows when Danielle would appear again? She may not have a choice but to go. She ha
d to find the woman and ask her about the hood. In the end, her impatience won and Ellena scooped the basket up and left.

She sped through town, walking until the cobbled
road ended right outside of the village. It was a sharp drop down the hill and Ellena carefully stumbled down the mountain side. It was a long way down and a narrow slither of white snow was the only barrier that separated the base of the hill from the looming forest ahead. What on earth would
Madame
Danielle be doing down here, she thought.

She shouted for the old woman, a little hesitantly at first. She felt uneasy standing all alone and trudging through the layers of snow. A harsh wind blew, chilling her to
the bone as the flurries became thicker, wilder, brimming everywhere.

“
Madame
Danielle?” she shouted again. Fear began to wrap around her throat like a suffocating noose. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. It had happened so quickly, the flurries becoming so thick that she couldn’t even see a few feet ahead. She blindly turned and began to stumble through the blizzard and back to town.

She was
running now, trying to keep her eyes open against the stinging winds. And that’s when it happened. Out of the nothingness, a black blur appeared and Ellena ran to it. Judging distance is nearly impossible in such circumstances and unfortunately the young woman collided face first into the bark of a massive oak tree. She clung to the tree, feeling the wind whip and rage around her and then it all became quiet. The storm finally died, much to her relief, but as she opened her eyes a new fear began to creep into her chest.  She was in the forest, deep in the forest and the town had disappeared.

Her next thought was to simply follow her footprints back to town.
It would have been a good plan if the heavy blizzard had not covered her trail. Her heart was racing, blood rushing to her face. How she wished she had listen to
Monsieur
Ansel! She looked back at the tree. If Ellena was right, she needed to simply turn around and trek back, but before long she wasn’t so sure if her plan had worked. To make matters worse, she wasn’t sure what time it was since the dense woodland kept any light from reaching the forest floor.

“I’m gonna freeze to death,” Ellena
whispered as she tried, but failed miserably, to hold back the tears. She was angry, angry at herself for being so stubborn. She had been warned, but just wouldn’t listen.

A gentle snow was falling, d
ancing through the green pine trees and whirling along the gigantic roots that rose from the ground before plunging back into the snow. It really was a magical sight, like a scene from one of her favorite stories. It was solemn, like the beauty of a snow covered graveyard.

It was getting colder and t
he only thing she had left was Danielle’s red hood. Ellena slipped it from the basket and flung it across her shoulders, tying the two red ribbons as the base of her neck. It draped around her in the most wonderful fashion, all the way down to her feet and the crimson hood cradled her head just right. As she pulled the hood up and over her face, Ellena could only think of one other thing to do to get her out of this predicament. She needed to see what direction she was going and that would require her to do something she had not planned on doing this faithful trip.

She fiercely pulled her blue gloves tighter and set to challenging a rather
massive pine tree close by. Climbing was much more difficult than she remembered as a child. Of course, it had been some time since she had scaled the branches of a tree, but she found it easier to move the higher she rose. The limbs were closer to each other now, but heavy splotches of slush would still fall each time the tree’s prickly green needles shook.