Little Red's Riding

Hard to Get

"Mother, can you tell me what it was like, growing up with grandmother in the woods?" She had cleaned the entire house and was helping her mother with laundry, which was something she usually avoided if at all possible by volunteering to do some chore down at her father's bakery, and her mother looked up at her the moment the words left her mouth, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Oh you know I hate talking about that time in my life Dahlia," she waved her hand and forced a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Besides, there's really nothing to tell. We stayed in that cottage that grandma still lives in and I learned to sew and knit and read and write. And once a year, for the Wolves' Moon Night Festival, she would  let me come into town to actually see other children. But otherwise I hardly even left our garden and she and father were my only company. And he passed away when I was five. Then it was just the two of us."

Dahlia watched her mother as she ironed, while Dahlia folded her father's pants, along with the other laundry that they'd brought in from the clothes line. Her mother was still an undeniably lovely woman. More often than not on the rare occasions when they went into the Capitol City, people thought that they were sisters instead of mother and daughter.

After a long silence Dahlia decided to take a chance. Maybe she could catch her mother off guard. Or maybe she would just decide that for once in her life she'd give her youngest child an honest answer about her past. "But when you left the woods didn't you ever wonder if you had a mate waiting for you somewhere back there? Before you met father I mean?"

She stared at her mother intently as the older woman nearly dropped the iron that she was holding, her head jerking up before her gaze finally came to land on her unruly youngest child. Her mother's wide blue eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "What stories did your grandmother dare fill your empty head with when you went to see her yesterday, Dahlia Emiliana Bakerson? You know you can't believe a word she says when it comes to the forest, or anything that has to do with it. I can't believe she told you about mates. Ridiculous. And you of all my children. The one that least needs to have her head filled with that sort of nonsense."

Mrs. Lilia Marie Bakerson turned and carried the iron to the stove, placing carefully on top of the smooth black cast iron before taking a slow, deep breath and turning back towards her daughter. "As far as you need to know your mate is the man who makes your heart flutter, which as far as I can see, is Archer Dubois, at the moment. I see the way you blush when he looks your way in town. The only thing I know is that you need to stop toying with the young men around here, who have caught your eye and settle down with one, Dahlia Emiliana. You aren't sixteen anymore. You're a woman now and it's time you stop acting like this is some fairy tale and like you're waiting for your prince to sweep you off your feet."

Setting down the pair of socks she had just picked up, Dahlia stared at her mother for a moment, but couldn't find a single word to say that didn't give away more than she was willing to tell her the woman standing before her. And so she turned on her heel, grabbing her red cloak from the hook that she had left it on earlier that morning, and ran out the door, her black boots making small squishing sounds in the wet grass as she rounded the backside of the house.

Dahlia had run for nearly a minute before she decided where she was headed. If her mother wasn't going to tell her the truth, then maybe her sister would. Her sister's house was only five minutes away, and at the very least she would get to see her niece and nephew. She figured there was a fair chance that her mother had told her sister more than she would ever have been willing to reveal to the baby of the family. Lilia was much closer with her older daughter than she was with her youngest child.

But Dahlia had only just made her decision to go to her sister's home when she felt one strong hand grip her waist and another slip quickly over her parted lips. Before she could even draw another breath she was pulled into an open shed and pressed firmly against the rough wall, unable to see much of anything, her eyes having not yet adjusted to the darkness.