Red's Tangled Tale

By Suzanna Lynn

Everyone knows the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Well, at least they think they do. History would have many believe Red was a naïve little girl who brought treats to her grandmother in the dark of the forest. History had it wrong.

After the curse of the wolves came to Timbergard, Red’s father was the only soul brave enough to enter Blakx Forest. However, when the wolves claimed his life, his young daughter took up his bow and began hunting the beasts to fill her need for revenge.

When Captain Hook shows up in the village in search of the rare burning ash that lies on the far borders of the cursed forest, Red agrees to help get him safely through the dangerous land.

The trek through the forest becomes precarious when the group is cornered by a pack of wolves. Red is forced to make a decision that will alter the lives of everyone, including individuals she has yet to meet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanna Lynn
• Release date: Nov 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370737062

Suzanna Lynn

Author Suzanna Lynn is a happily married, full-time mother of three beautiful, energetic children, and lives in a small town nestled in the deep rolling hills of Missouri.Growing up in the Ozarks, Suzanna spent her childhood wandering the fields and woods surrounding her home. While most children avoided the dark corners of the woods, she sought them out; imagining them to be filled with fairies, dragons and all number of creatures.Having not lost her childhood imagination, Suzanna has written numerous poems, songs and short stories that won various awards in high school and college. Her dream was to, one day, be an author.In 2014 she decided to stop wishing she could publish a book and made the dream a reality when she released The Bed Wife.That first novella gave birth to two more books, completing the series, and stirred the embers of a new five-book series called The Untold Stories. She has since published stand-alone novels, and even has several children’s books in the works.When she's not busy writing or spending time with her family, Suzanna loves to draw and paint, as well as scrapbooking. She also has been known to volunteer with her children's school, the Ladies Auxiliary, and even the local zoo!

Book preview

I’m not the silly, naïve little girl the storybooks describe me to be. I neither wander the woods aimlessly nor carry baskets of goodies to a decrepit grandmother, though I do live with my gran. Most know me by the color of my hooded cape. Little Red Riding Hood they call me. But that is not my name.

My parents named me Rosalee, though Gran calls me Rose. The name Red came when Gran made my hooded cloak. She claims the thread was spelled by a man who could turn straw into gold, though his name escapes me now. It’s believed my hood guards against dark magic.

Whether such things are true, I’ve yet to see. However, I can tell you it set me apart from the rabble of my village.

I had spent my whole young life in the shadow of Blakx Forest, on the outskirts of Ravenmore. The townsfolk would look down their noses at my family while reaching out their hands for the food and furs we provided at market. After Mother and Father died, I took up the family business, and the gossip and hard stares only got worse.

However, that all changed when I discovered an immense stone tower nestled in the heart of the forest. That night events were set into motion that would change my life forever.

Let me tell you my untold story.

Though the moon was full, the forest was near pitch under the canopy of trees. I stepped gingerly through the damp thicket, picking a spot with a slight break in the leaves. The limbs swayed in the night wind, allowing enough light to see by to filter in on the clearing.

The air was moist and cool, clinging to the exposed skin of my arms and face. My breath created soft pillows when I steadied myself with a slow exhale. My crimson cape surrounded me in a cocoon of warmth, fighting against the coming winter’s chill. I hunkered down in the hollow of a tree and waited.

It seemed I was not the only creature stirring in Blakx Forest that evening. Around me the woods sang with the sounds of nocturnal life. Mice skittered across the leaves when I got too close. The gentle hoot of an owl in the distance—stalking and waiting—just like me. The far-off howl of a wolf called to its companions.

It had been near a month since I brought down a wolf. Their pelts were what brought the good money at market. But it wasn’t about the money anymore, thanks to Captain Shaw. Because of the pirate’s generosity I was able to pay off the trader, Max, and purchase a fine bow. Shaw’s kindness allowed me to purchase the needed medicinals at the apothecary so Gran could recover from her illness. No, it wasn’t about the money anymore. It was about vengeance.

It had been just over a year since I watched a pack of wolves kill my father in these very woods.

Before the curse, my father was known around as one of the best hunters in Timbergard, perhaps in the whole of the Kingdom of Bruen. People would flock to our village of Ravenmore to purchase furs and meat from him. Then the curse came.

No one rightly knew who brought the curse down on Blakx Forest, but a great evil fell over the land and from it was birthed the most vicious wolves ever seen. Hunters and travelers began to go missing. At least, parts of them were missing. The savagery of the wolves was something never before witnessed. There was a far greater intelligence in their attack than an average wolf.

Soon word spread throughout the Kingdom. Travelers refused to take the path through the forest. Merchants were forced to come by ship, making some supplies harder for the villagers of Ravenmore to obtain.

Then one day the village woke to billowing clouds of grey smoke in the sky over Blakx Forest. Garrart, the King of Bruen, had purchased the assistance of a dark sorceress to set the forest ablaze. He was told only fire could purge such evil from the land. Of course this was not the case. He only succeeded in cutting off everyone west of the forest from the rest of the world and pushing the wolves in closer to the village.

In a last effort to completely purge his Kingdom of evil, Garrart declared Blakx Forest and Ravenmore no longer part of the Kingdom of Bruen and renamed it the cursed land of Timbergard.

Soon after, those who could afford to fled to other lands. Those of us who couldn’t hunkered down and made the best with what we had. A cargo ship would come in once a month to the port, but this meant holding on to what little food and supplies we had to make through until the next ship arrived. The land in Timbergard was not made for planting. It was too wet and far too cold for anything but pine trees to grow.

What Timbergard did have in abundance was wild game. Deer, rabbits and rodents were ripe for the picking. The only problem was no one was willing to brave the forest with the wolves. No one except my father.

Of course, this all happened before I was born. I have never known a time when the curse of the wolves wasn’t on this land. As a small child I can recall Father kissing my mother before going out on a hunt. The worry in her face, her shoulders stiff with tension. Then the release when he would return. Like the whole cabin took a great breath and let it out.

He taught me to hunt. He didn’t want to, mind you, and Mother took great pains to put an end to it, but I would sneak out of the house and try to follow him into the wood. Finally, he told her it was better to teach me the trade in order to defend myself rather than wait around for me to get myself killed.

It’s ironic, really. I still hunt in Blakx Forest and he lies beneath the earth with nothing more than a carved wood cross to mark his place.

The wind began to pick up, throwing the hood of my cape back from my face. A few strands of ebony hair came loose from my long braid, swirling in the breeze around my eyes. I reached for the dagger I kept in my boot, making sure it was still secure. I was best with a bow but always kept a knife at the ready.

A howl cut through the night; the wolf was much closer now. The answering chorus was far to the east. He would get no help tonight.

I pulled an arrow from my quiver, fingering the red feathers of the fletching while I held my breath in anticipation. My heart raced, pounding so fiercely I could feel it in my ears. I strained to listen against the wind, hoping for a warning to signal the wolf was close.

From behind me I heard a snap, so soft and subtle it could have been a pinecone falling from a tree, but it wasn’t. The wolf’s growl started low in its chest, rumbling through the cold night. It had circled around, most likely catching my scent when the wind picked up.

The wolves were getting smarter, making it much harder to sneak up unnoticed. With my back in the hollow of the tree, I did not have a good vantage point to aim at the beast. The circumstances were less than ideal.

He was just behind the tree. I was certain he didn’t know exactly where I was, otherwise I would be dead. His long snout sniffed the air in an effort to find me. I was suddenly thankful for the shelter of the large dead pine. I shifted slightly, bringing my feet under me in order to leap if the need arose. I drew back on the arrow; there would be no time to aim given the close proximity.

I bolted upright as the wolf let out a blood-chilling howl; the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. His comrades answered, still far to the east, but this time there was an urgency in their reply as though to say, We’re coming.

The beast knew he had me cornered; he needed only to wait for his pack. My only chance was to face him alone, or risk being torn to shreds by the coming attack.

I leapt to my feet, whirling around the tree as I turned on my heel. The wolf was black as night, eyes burning like hot coals in the dark. He started, not expecting the surprise. It snarled, drawing back on its haunches in order to leap. Damp leaves and twigs flew as the wolf kicked off from the ground.

I didn’t aim. I didn’t have time. I drew back and let the arrow fly. It sliced through the air, the red fletching the only clue to its whereabouts. Before I was aware of the outcome, I spun, attempting to pull out of the beast’s reach should the shot fail to make contact with him.

The sharp tip sank into the wolf’s exposed belly as he barreled through the air toward me. An angry yelp escaped him, the pain throwing him off balance and causing him to fall to the ground. The snarling beast scrambled to get to its feet, exposing his side.

I quickly drew a second arrow, letting it loose. The arrow hummed, soaring through the air. The metal tip pierced the wolf’s flesh and delivered a killing blow through the lungs.

It yelped, falling to the forest floor in a heap of fur.

My heart thumped in my head as I tried to steady my breathing. It is done, I thought.

The air sparked with howls from the pack. They were searching for him. They would get no answer.

I had cleaned the kill in the forest, which was a danger in itself. The pack would have smelled the blood from more than a mile away. However, time was on my side and morning brought with it peace and silence.

Once field dressed, I tied the wolf and dragged the heavy carcass through the wood, ropes straining against its massive weight.

At the forest’s edge, the musty stagnant air gave way to a cool, moist breeze that filled my lungs.

I could see my little cottage just down the path, resting in the shadow of the forest. Smoke drew tendrils of grey on the air like a flag beckoning me home. Gran’s up, I thought, feeling the slightest guilt at knowing my overnight hunt had probably caused her to stay up all night.

I was almost to the cottage when Gran came around the corner carrying a small bundle of firewood.

Rose! she exclaimed, releasing a breath as though she had been holding it the entire night. Thank the gods. She walked the short distance to me, embracing me in a half hug while still clinging to the firewood. Productive night, I see.

I glanced over my shoulder at the wolf’s body. He was just asking to be caught. I wouldn’t dare tell Gran it was me who was nearly made into dinner.

She raised an eyebrow, skeptically studying me. Indeed?

I shrugged, the corners of my mouth turning up slightly.

Well, let’s get it up to the house, she instructed. "It appears we’ll have