A House of Wolves and Men

A retelling of Little Red Riding Hood

         The night was dark and stormy. The castle halls loomed more over my head than they usually did. The echo of my footsteps sounded more ominous than during the daytime. The castle staff were nowhere to be found; it felt as though I was all alone. A hurricane tore up the shoreline, I could see some of the destruction from my bedroom windows. This was the storm everyone had been anticipating for weeks; even moving the entire staff and family from the summer castle by the shore to the much farther inland winter castle. Perhaps that’s why the castle seemed more ominous than usual. It was not fully prepared for the royal family and aristocracy to move in; furniture was still covered with drop cloths and paintings were not hung up on the walls. It made the whole thing feel abandoned.
         Most of the people living here made themselves scarce in their rooms while the storm raged outside; I enjoyed the eerie feeling of walking around with nobody else. I wasn’t afraid of the storm; I wasn’t afraid of anything. My grandmother had made sure of that.
         I spent a summer with her once, deep in the forest. Her cottage was so remote that you had to ride part of the way by horse, then hike the rest, brambles tearing at your ankles. That summer, she taught me survival. How to wield a knife, strike a vital point, and mask my steps so even the birds wouldn’t notice me. My mother had been horrified when I returned. She banned me from ever seeing my grandmother again and cut off all contact. But I never forgot what I’d learned. I kept practicing in secret.
         Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps pounding towards me. I whipped around, ready to fight when a courier sprinted by me, letter in hand.
         “The Queen!” He called. “A message for the Queen!”
         A message for the Queen? During the storm? It must be something terrible that someone was desperate enough to send a courier through the hurricane to deliver a message to the Queen. I waited for the courier’s footsteps to recede down the hall far enough that he wouldn’t notice me following. It wasn’t difficult to track, as the courier was soaking wet from the rain and left a trail of water down the hall to the Queen’s receiving room. I waited behind a corner and listened to the courier speaking to the Queen’s butler.
         “The…Queen,” the courier panted. “I need… to give… this to… the Queen.”
         The butler took the letter, and his face went pale as he read the name of the sender. He paid the courier and summoned a servant to tend to him, then vanished down the hall. Silence returned.
         Just then, a hand grabbed my shoulder. I reached back, grabbed the hand and twisted the arm connected to it.
         “Ow! OW! Let go!” A familiar voice called out. I let go when I realized it was just Phelan trying to sneak up on me.
         “You never learn your lesson, huh?” I said, as Phelan rubbed his arm. “Even if you sneak up on me, I will always kick your ass.”
         “What are you even doing out of your room anyways? Aren’t you scared of the storm?” He asked.
         “I’m not afraid of anything,” I said and he rolled his eyes. “I was walking around when I saw a courier run by to deliver a letter to the Queen. Her butler looked scared of who sent the letter, so I’m trying to figure out what freaked the butler out so badly.”
         “Why don’t you just ask?” Phelan suggested. I rolled my eyes.
         “As if the Queen would ever tell me something like that. Ever since I spent that summer at my grandmother’s, she keeps all secrets far away from me. As if I’m going to tell my grandmother or something.”
         “What would the Queen know that your grandmother would want to know?” Phelan asked.
         “That’s not the point,” I say, exasperated. “The point is my mother would never willingly tell me anything; which is why I have to spy on her.” I started to walk down the hall, towards the Queen’s chambers. Phelan followed close behind, trying to be as quiet as possible. I once tried, in vain, to teach him how to mask his footsteps so they were silent. He failed miserably. We reached the Queen’s chambers just in time to hear the last bit of her conversation with her butler.
         “-Afraid of getting worse,” her butler said.
         “This is so typical,” the Queen sighed. “My mother has to wait until a deadly storm to decide she’s not well enough to be on her own.”
         “This disease has been taking a toll on her for eight years, your Highness. Perhaps it’s time she’s ready to give into it,” he said. Thoughts swirl in my head. Grandmother was sick? Has she been sick this whole time? Is she not well enough to live on her own? Without thinking, I burst into the room.
         “How dare you not tell me my grandmother is sick!” I yell. I can tell I’ve caught my mother and her butler completely off guard.
         “Darling, if you’ll just-”
         “No!” I bellow. “You FORBADE me from seeing her, while she was sick! And now I hear she might be dying? You are cruel to have kept this from me!”
         “I was only trying to protect you!” My mother replied, clearly distressed.
         “Protect me from what? From caring for my sickly grandmother all of these years, instead of hiding away in this stupid castle?”
         “You were so young when it happened, I didn’t know when was the right time to tell you,” she said softly. I felt so angry, I felt like I was going to throw up. “Rory, please understand-” But I held up my hand.
         “I cannot believe you.” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “You withheld my sick grandmother from me, a woman I love so much, to protect me? You don’t get to make my decisions anymore, I am no longer a child, I am sixteen years old! I am going to find my grandmother and I am going to nurse her back to health.” I sprinted out of the room as fast as possible as my mother called out for me. I knew it was only a matter of time before she sent for the guards to find me and bring me back, so I acted fast. I snagged a getaway satchel I kept hidden by one of the entrances to the castle. I kept one at each entrance for this exact purpose; you never know when you’ll need to escape. There was a cloak hidden with this satchel, I threw it on as quickly as I could and left.
         The dense cover of trees guarded me from sight. My cloak was a dark green, with ruby red satin lining. It was a birthday gift from my mother. The color of the exterior was perfect for hiding in the trees from the guards. It almost seemed hardly necessary due to the rain being so intense; I could barely see ten steps from my face. The ground was muddy and difficult to navigate. I left the castle with such haste, I’d forgotten that I was wearing a simple pair of house shoes, not fit for the immense rain and mud from the storm. The ground was also littered with debris from the trees; giant branches covered the steady paths I had memorized in childhood. I forged on, trying to outrun my pursuers.
         Eventually I became tired, so I found some slight cover under a tree. I shivered so intensely, it felt like I was shaking the ground. The chill from the night air and the rain had seeped into my bones. My feet ached from stepping on the sharp rocks and sticks. I was covered in mud from head to toe. I checked my exit bag for any sort of food. I found an apple and devoured it quickly. There was a small canteen that, luckily, was still full. I took small sips, trying to conserve my water. I tried to rest, but the storm was too loud and the fear of the tree falling on top of me kept me awake. Eventually, however, sleep overtook me. When I awoke again, the rain was still going, but less intensely. I could see it was light out. I stood up and continued on.
         I trudged forward, not making nearly as much progress as I had the previous night. While resting I noticed that I had several cuts on my feet, making walking all the more difficult. I was starving and thirsty. I longed for a hot bath and breakfast, followed by a nap in my feather bed, snuggled beneath the warm covers. I tried to picture it, instead of being out in this storm, but it wasn’t working.
         Suddenly, I heard the snap of a twig behind me. I quickly turned, but there was no one behind me. When I turned back around, I noticed a figure in front of me and pulled out my knife as fast as I could.
         “Didn’t realize you’d be this excited to see me,” Phelan joked.
         “What the hell are you doing out here?” I asked as I got closer to him.
         “Well I wanted to make sure you were safe, you ran off pretty quickly,” he said with a shrug.
         “You followed me into a hurricane because I ran off too quickly?” I asked, infuriated that I was followed this far into the woods.
         “Well when you put it like that, it sounds stupid,” he said, looking ashamed.
         “It’s because it is stupid!” I yelled.
         “I wanted to help with your sick grandmother! Look!” He said, shoving his hands forward. “I found all of this valerian root in the woods, it’s supposed to help with infections.” I leaned closer to inspect the plants in his hands; it was, in fact, valerian root. I looked up at him and frowned.
         “You mixed up your herbs again,” I said with a sigh. “Valerian makes people sleepy. I’ll take it just in case,” I said, grabbing the bundle from his hands and shoving it in my bag. “You should really go back to the castle. It’s not safe out here.”
         “But I want to help you!” He said and he attempted to forge forward with me. I honestly didn’t trust his instincts; he would probably die if I wasn’t watching what he ate 24/7. I couldn’t handle such a big responsibility.
         “No, Phelan, she’s my grandmother, this is my journey I need to make,” I said, trying to sound stern. “Go. Back. Home.” I pushed him out of the way and kept moving forward. When I turned back, he disappeared. How was he so good at that?
         I made it a few leagues farther before stopping to rest again. The rain and wind were picking back up; it was only getting worse. I needed to get to my grandmother’s cottage and fast. There was a very real possibility that I could die out here. I found some Echinacea leaf and crushed it up the best I could. I applied to my feet, trying to stop some sort of infection from appearing. My feet were disgusting. They were cut up and bleeding, and also caked with mud. My flimsy shoes had done little to protect my feet from the debris of the storm. They throbbed with pain with every step I took.
         I fell asleep without realizing it and when I awoke, it was pitch black. The wind was even worse since I had fallen asleep. The rain was falling so hard, it hurt. I managed to make my way to my feet. I limped as fast I could through the storm, tripping over everything in my path. Thorns tore at my feet as I walked, and my hands as I fell. This is how I knew I was almost there.
         Suddenly, in the distance I saw a light. As I moved closer, I saw it was my grandmother’s cottage. I walked faster, trying to ignore the pain in my feet. Just to see my grandmother and to hug her would be enough. When I arrived at her door, I noticed it was unlocked. Perhaps she was expecting me! I opened the door and was immediately filled with warmth. The fire on the hearth was roaring, heating the tiny cottage. There was a bowl of stew set out and the smell drew me right to it. I devoured the bowl of stew as fast as I could. It filled my belly and was helping the chill go away.
         “Grandmother?” I called out. “It’s me, Rory.” I heard a faint snoring noise. I turned to the bed set up in the corner of the room. Oh god, I thought, she must have been too weak to keep traveling from her parlor to her room and had someone move her bed in here. The thought turned my stomach. I felt the stew wanting to make a second appearance.          “Grandmother?” I asked again. I was greeted with another snoring sound, so I was content to let her rest. She must be so very ill. I, myself, was quite exhausted and made my way to my old bedroom. As soon as I hit the bed, I fell into a long, dreamless sleep.
         I awoke in a daze, confused by where I was for a second. How long had I been asleep? I looked down to see someone bandaged my hands and feet, and took good care of the wounds. Could my grandmother be feeling better? I went out to the den and saw my grandmother was still asleep in her bed. I walked over to give her a kiss, when I noticed her skin was ice cold. I checked her pulse and I felt nothing.
         I fell to my knees beside her bed and began to cry. My sweet grandmother, who I adored, was gone. My own mother had prevented me from spending time with grandmother, and now there was no time left. I made this journey in vain. Perhaps if I had stayed awake last night and stayed by her side, I would have been there when she was dying; so she wouldn’t have to die alone. As I quietly sobbed next to grandmother, mourning all that we would never have, I heard the door open. My head shot up. Who could have possibly followed me all the way here?
         “Rory?” A voice asked.
         There was no way, it wasn’t possible.
         “I heard crying, are you okay?”
         I turned around to face Phelan. He stood in the middle of my grandmother’s cottage, looking no different from when I last saw him in the woods, what felt like centuries ago. I wiped my eyes and stood up.
         “How are you here?” I asked, incredulously. “How did you manage to follow me so deep in the woods?”
         “Well I was worried, I told you,” he said. He started to move towards me; something didn’t feel right. “I’m sorry to hear your grandmother died.”
         “How did you know my grandmother was dead?” I asked, since I hadn’t mentioned it before.
         “Well, I saw you crying, and I just assumed,” he said, his eyes shifting a bit. Something definitely didn’t feel right. I took a closer look at Phelan.
         “You’re dry,” I said. I looked around myself for anything I might be able to use as a weapon.
         “Rory, what are you talking about?” He asked, as I frantically searched for the knife I kept hidden by my leg.
         “You’re dry,” I repeated. “You can’t be dry, there’s a storm.”
         My head was spinning, I thought I might pass out. I was practically bending myself backwards trying to find my stupid knife. Where did it go? I always kept it on me at all times, the only person who would know where I hid it was…
         That’s when Phelan started to laugh.
         “Are you finally starting to get it, or do I need to explain it to you?” Phelan asked sarcastically, holding up the knife I was so desperately looking for. I felt like I was upside down.
         “You, but…” I trailed off for a moment. “It can’t be you. You are useless and clumsy and don’t know how to do things without my help.” Phelan made a pouty face.
         “Is that really what you think of me?” He said, mocking how upset I currently was. “I thought your mother taught you to be nice to others. Or did you learn to be rude from your grandmother?”
         “How long have you been here?” I asked.
         “Long enough,” he said with a sinister smile. “Granny kept me company though.” Fearing the worst, I pulled back the sheets.
         I gagged, both from the smell and the sight. The sheets had been filled with dozens of flowers to cover the scent of my grandmother’s mutilated body. Her dried blood covered the sheets, and her guts looked as though they had been ripped apart by a wild animal. I dry heaved, but nothing was coming up. I felt like the floor had been ripped out from underneath my feet. Phelan, sweet, idiotic Phelan, murdered my grandmother and let me witness the body. I could hear him speaking, but I could no longer process what he was saying. All I knew was that he killed someone I loved dearly.
I felt the blind rage filling my body and before I knew what I was doing, I lunged towards Phelan. Before I knew it, he twisted my arm behind my back and pinned me to the ground.
         “You never learn your lesson, huh?” He asked me, as he forced harder into the ground. “Your granny didn’t learn her lesson either.” I felt a pinch, and all of a sudden the world went black.
         I woke up, tied to one of my grandmother's kitchen chairs. The idea that I would never be able to sit down in these chairs at her kitchen table and talk with her was not lost on me. Phelan stood in front of the hearth, until he heard me shift and then he turned around and smiled.
         “Well, good morning sweet Princess Rory,” he said, with venom in his voice. “Did you sleep well? I know it’s not the feather bed you’re used to.”
         “How could you do this?” I ask, on the verge of tears once more.
         “How could I not?” He asked in response. “Form a close friendship with the Queen’s only daughter and sole heir to the throne, so that I can overtake the kingdom? I’m a little mad you didn’t see it coming, considering how much you brag about being ‘so aware of every threat.’”
         “But you-”
         “Are an absolute idiot, I know you said it before,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But the truth is, I lied to you. I lied about my age, I lied about how competent I am and I lied about being your friend.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from me.
I gave him nothing; irritated, he continued.
         “How did I lie about my age, you ask? Well, the thing is Rory, I am no ordinary human, such as yourself. I am a werewolf.”          This caught my attention, which he reveled in.
         “Not possible, those don’t exist,” I said. He smiled once again.
         “It’s kind of cute how completely wrong you’ve been about everything thus far, Rory.” He said, as he walked toward the hearth. “There have been stories about my people for as long as humans have feared the woods. Tales of men who were people by day, but vicious canine hunters by night have made their rounds to almost every corner of the world. Innocent people and werewolves alike have been persecuted for centuries for crimes they did not commit.” He paused and looked into the fire, for what I can only assume was a dramatic effect.
“Did you know, the year before you were born, there was a fearsome attack on your kingdom? It was truly devastating; people were murdered, houses and businesses destroyed. No one was spared from some sort of devastation. The people were convinced that it was werewolves, claiming they saw the assailants come out from the woods. That was all it took to convince the Queen. Your mother sentenced my kind—my parents—to death, based on hysteria and lies. Now, I return the favor.”
         “You killed my grandmother and now you’re going to kill me, just to get back at my mother?” I asked, and Phelan gave a frustrated sigh.
         “You always manage to make my actions seem more insignificant than they actually are,” he rolled his shoulders and reset. “Your mother killed some of mine, so I kill some of hers.”
         “But she and grandmother don’t get along,” I said. “It feels kind of dumb to murder someone who isn’t truly connected to her.”
         “Yes,” he said. “But your grandmother was the most vocal about murdering werewolves, and would frequently expose people for being werewolves to local authorities, so they would be executed,” he explained.
         I felt like I was going to be sick; how could my family have done such a thing?
         “But don’t worry, Rory,” he smiled again. “I made sure her death was long and drawn out. Even going so far as to poison her for eight years, so she would be too weak to fight back.”
         “In fact,” he continued. “It was me who sent the courier through the hurricane to deliver the message that your grandmother is dying, knowing that it would spark your interest and you’d rush off to save poor, old granny. Just in time for me to get here myself and murder both you and your grandmother in cold blood.”
         “Couldn’t this still be framed as a werewolf attack?” I asked, trying to stall him.
         One thing my grandmother told me to do was to keep two knives on my person at all times. One strapped to my leg, and the other sewn into a back panel of my dress, for times just like these. I foolishly told Phelan about the leg knife, which he got away from me, presumably while I was out cold.
         But this knife, my grandmother told me to keep especially secret; the only person who knew was myself and my dress maker.
         “When people see my grandmother’s body, they're going to know it was some kind of animal. Maybe even a half human, half animal.”
         “Your threats aren’t scary,” he said. “Besides, I have it all planned out. Granny’s loving and wonderful granddaughter comes to the cottage too little too late and realizes the woman she loved was dead. Distraught and overcome with emotion, she takes her own life to be with her grandmother forever. In her haste to reach her grandmother, she left the cottage door open and because of the nasty storm, some animals came in and contaminated the crime scene. The cottage is effectively ruined by the storm. The Queen is so distraught, so she turns to the only part left of her daughter; her best friend. That’s where I enter the picture. The Queen, without anyone to take over once she’s dead, will adopt me and then I shall reign as the first werewolf king.”
         “You know, I kind of believed your plan until you got to the end there,” I said, trying to throw him off. I was scared out of my mind. Phelan was more unhinged than I could have possibly imagined. “The whole, my mother adopting you and you becoming werewolf king is a little far fetched.”
         “Well it doesn’t really matter what you think,” he said, grabbing my knife from the table. “As I’ll be slitting your throat soon enough.” He came near me and I knew what I had to do.
         “Please Phelan, don’t do this!” I begged, with tears in my eyes. “Please, I won’t tell anyone your plan, I won’t say anything!” He paused walking toward me for a moment.
         “I like seeing you like this; begging and pleading for your life,” he smiled. He suddenly ran up next to me and pressed the knife against my throat. “Now tell me, are you still not afraid of anything?” He asked. I took a shaky breath and through my tears replied to him.
         “I’m not afraid of anything,” I said. He laughed in my face.
         “Still full of bravado, even till the end,” he said. “At least you’re consistent.”
         “Please don’t do this,” I sobbed quietly. I got my hands ready from behind my back.
         “It’s too late for you, Rory,” he said.
         “Or maybe too late for you,” I said, looking up into his eyes. He looked confused for a moment and that’s when I shoved my knife as far into his stomach as I could. I watched his eyes widen. He stumbled back, and I went with him. I ripped my knife as far up as I could go and pulled back into me. He collapsed on the floor, a mixture of blood and guts ruining the soft wood floors beneath my feet.
         I left the parlor and went to take a long, hot bath.
         After cleaning myself up and changing into some of my grandmother’s old clothes, I took my old clothes and put them on Phelan’s dead body. I burned his original clothes in the fire. I dressed his corpse in my clothes, cut my hair, and arranged it to disguise his face.
         Then, I screamed.
         I grabbed my satchel, my cloak and a pair of my grandmother’s good walking boots. Not long after, there was a knock on the door. I tried my best to make it look like I had been crying. I opened the door to a local huntsman.
         “Are you alright, miss?” He asked, peering behind my shoulder at the blood scene behind me. “I heard screaming and came as soon as I could.”
         “There was an intruder!” I half sobbed. “I came to visit this sweet old lady in the woods, because the storm is so vicious. That’s when I saw this scene! Both of them are dead!” The huntsman seemed to believe my performance and entered the room. Upon seeing the two bodies, he threw up, but regained his composure.
         “Do you know who these two women are?” He asked. I nodded.
         “You must tell the Queen,” I said desperately. “You must tell the Queen that her mother and daughter are dead. I am too distraught, I have to go!” I fled the cottage and went into the afternoon air.
         There was no rain, there was no wind. It was then, I realized, this wasn’t the end of the storm, but in fact the eye.
         I flipped my cloak inside out, so the bright red lining was visible.
         I was done hiding.
         Let the werewolves find me if they can.