Red Hoods: First Hunt: Red Hoods

By Sara Bushway

 Once upon a time, in the Black Forest - of all places - there was a little girl who wore a red hood. Her mother told her to take some goodies to her sick grandmother to make her feel all better. Little Red Riding Hood happily obliged, packing her basket with all manner of sweets, baked goods, jams, honey, and milk. Once her basket was completely full, she set off into the woods to Grandmother's house. Along the way, she met a wolf. That's pretty much where the fairytale stops being accurate. You see, her name wasn't Little Red Riding Hood, it was Crimson, and it wasn't a wolf. It was a waerwolf. She wasn't afraid, because she had been training to hunt them since she was a child. She did, however, lead the waerwolf back to Grandma's because Grandma was also a Red Hood and was ready with her crossbow in hand when they arrived. And the huntsman? That was Grandma's supporter, a black hood who pledged his life to her in the service of killing waerwolves and keeping the Black Forest safe.

That story has been told for generations to all of the girls who dream of wearing the red hood and serving the village. I've probably heard that story a thousand times and for a good reason. Crimson, the first Red Hood to train under the great huntress Grandma, was my grandmother. Now, at the tender age of 17, it's my turn to take up the mantle and join the hunt. The only problem is I have already tried and failed once before. And even worse, I lost my arm in the process. The competition to be trained as  Red Hood is fierce, and the girls who desire to fill those training positions are conniving. Despite the loss of my arm, I continued my training in the hopes of getting a second chance, and now my time has come.

The leaves of the Ollar Tree have turned red, a clear signal that it's time to train new huntresses to beat back the scourge of the Black Forest and show those nasty waers who's boss.

My name is Sanguine, and I will earn my way into the Red Hoods, even if I have to give up my other arm to do it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Bushway
• Release date: Oct 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223285977

Sara Bushway

Sara Bushway is an author from Bethalto, Illinois who writes fantasy, science fiction, and poetry. Sara's debut novel Honey Beaumont was released in June 2021 and a 2nd edition released in 2022. She has also authored a game review in the Journal of Gaming and Virtual Worlds and continues to write fiction of an unorthodox nature in the form of short stories, novellas, and novels. Follow her on Facebook and Instagram @SaraBushwayAuthor and on Twitter @SaraBushway for updates about future releases and more.

Book preview

Prologue

Sanguine wiped the sting of sweat from her eyes on her sleeve. Here I am. I'm 11 winters old. I'm lost and alone in the Black Forest. And I'm about to make my first kill. She retrieved her boot knife and gazed upon her reflection in the steel. Too bad Mother won't be here to see it.

She pushed the oversized hood back behind her head and straightened, wondering if she would ever grow into the patchwork cape her father had made her from scraps of clothes she had outgrown.

She crouched and rounded the boulder she had been hiding behind to catch her breath, but the time had come to hunt again. She scanned the area, searching for movement among the trees. A branch broke in the distance, and Sanguine took off after it. She could hear her quarry’s massive paws thumping against the blanket of dead leaves on the ground as it fled. The chase sent shivers down her spine. As much as she wanted to kill her first waerwolf, she was terrified the massive beast would turn to fight. Even at a distance, she could see that it towered several feet over her and outweighed her several times over in pure, hairy muscle. That wasn't even taking the massive jaws full of teeth into account. But this is what The Hunt was all about: sorting the girls from the huntresses who would go on to join the Red Hoods and protect the village from the waers the next season would bring.

The morning mist thickened the air, making it difficult for her to breathe. She slowed her pace but kept her eyes locked on the beast as it galloped through the forest on all four paws. A shriek in the distance broke her concentration and sent her running toward a nearby clearing next to a wall of stone, the border of the hunting zone. She skidded to a stop and gasped at the scene. A girl, only a few seasons older than herself, was caught under what appeared to be a fallen tree.

Help! she pleaded. Please, help me!

Sanguine rushed to her aid. She tried to roll the tree off to the side, but it wouldn't budge. Her eyes followed the trunk down to the problem. The roots had been trimmed off of the tree, base shaved and placed into a shallow hole covered in leaves. Further up the trunk, hidden in the foliage, she spotted a rope tied around one of the central branches, the end of which trailed into some nearby bushes.

It's a trap, Sanguine whispered. Probably a waer trap." That didn't seem to help the girl feel any better about her predicament. Sanguine quickly looked her over, only spotting a few cuts and bruises. She hoped the girl hadn't been pinned long. Broken bones could heal, but she knew damage to the internal organs could be deadly.

Sanguine strained to lift the trunk, but only managed to lift it a little. The girl pinned beneath it pushed up on it with one hand, trying to help. Her other hand was pressed against her body, as if it was hurt or holding something in place to reduce the pain. Even together, the trunk of the tree proved to be very heavy. She refused to give in. Sweat dripped down her face as Sanguine bent her knees further and lifted with everything she had. With the girl's help, there was just enough clearance for her to start sliding out. Her cloak tore where the trunk wouldn't lift, but she slid out and ripped it the rest of the way in earnest.

Thank you, the girl managed, her voice still shaky and weak from the ordeal.

Sanguine gently lowered the trunk back to the ground and put her hands on her knees. You're welcome, she replied, still trying to catch her breath. I've never heard of a waer trap quite like that.

The girl shook her head, Me neither. She slid her legs under herself and tried to stand on her own but couldn't. Sanguine reached out her hand to help but thought better of it and walked behind the girl.

Here. This might hurt, but I'm going to stand you up.

Yeah, the girl nodded in agreement. That's fine. If you can get me up, I'm going back to the Ollar Tree. I can't finish in the condition I'm in. I quit.

Sanguine wrapped her arms around her from behind and lifted her to her feet. The girl cried out in pain but caught herself, shakily standing under her own power.

You don't have to quit, you know, Sanguine shrugged. The girl looked at her, puzzled. Sanguine continued, I know my odds of getting a spot are better if there are fewer girls in the hunt, but— Something clicked in her mind, and her eyes went wide. She looked up at the cliff face. It's not a waer trap! It's a mantrap!

What are y— The girl had started to shout something, but the boulder coming down at them forced Sanguine's hand. She shoved the girl away, sending her tumbling to the ground in immense pain again. Sanguine begged her own legs to move, but she wasn't fast enough. She tripped over a branch of the tree, falling face-first into the grass, her limbs sprawled in all directions. The soft grass of the clearing was the last thing her left hand felt before the boulder crashed down atop it.

Chapter 1

Run. Jump. Tuck. Roll . Slash. Run, jump, tuck, roll, slash. Run-jump-tuck-roll-slash. The sun rose over Sanguine as she practiced her attacks and dashes in the yard outside the cottage. The grass was tamped down where she had spent nearly every waking hour of her summer fighting invisible foes and overcoming imaginary obstacles.

Sanguine knelt for a moment to catch her breath and remember how four years ago, the obstacles and foes weren’t so fake. They were all frighteningly, painfully real. The whir of the mechanical arm and battle claw she received after her last foray into the forest brought her back into the moment just in time to hear her father’s voice.

Sanguine! Come help with breakfast!

She brushed the loose grass off of her patchwork riding hood and mussed her mousy brown hair out of her eyes. Coming, Dad.

She jogged her way into the cottage and then jogged in place behind her seat, huffing and puffing her breathing exercises while her father started breaking eggs into a bowl.

He laughed. Every second of every day, huh?

She grinned and stretched, dipping down to touch her toes. Just until I’m accepted into the Red Hoods. No big deal.

Well, a good day of training starts with a hearty breakfast, he said. You can’t fight waers on an empty stomach.

Sanguine reached past him and plucked two potatoes from a foraging basket. I'll take care of these.

Really? Tar turned and eyed her. Like last time? Why don't you just grab a knife and cube them this time?

Sanguine washed the potatoes in the basin and brought them back to the counter as she whined, I can't get any better with my magic unless I have a chance to practice it.

Fair, fair, her father relented, but don't do it just yet.

Sanguine put the potatoes in the cast iron skillet and took a deep breath, staring intently at the spuds.

Ok, Tar said. He plucked the skillet's matching lid from a hook on the wall and held it out in front of him like a shield.

Sanguine rolled her eyes at him and held her hands over the potatoes.

Sev-rem! she enunciated.

Tar's reflexes brought the lid of the pan between Sanguine's hands and the exploding potatoes. Chunks flew everywhere. Some liquified midflight and splatted against wall. Tar turned the pan lid over in his hand and eyed the spatter.

Is this what you intended?

Sanguine sighed in defeat, No, it's not. I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

Nothing, if you're into having mashed potatoes for breakfast, Tar joked. It's fine, Gwinny. You'll get better.

Sanguine nodded but said nothing. Though her physical training had been going well, magic had been on ongoing struggle which brute force could not fix, which made it all the more maddening. They both looked into the pan of potato chunks, shrugged to one another, and began adding oils, vegetables, and seasonings for cooking them over the fire. When the potatoes were done roasting, Sanguine added the eggs and mixed it all together until it was a fluffy, delicious mess.  She couldn't help but take a bite as she brought the pan over.

It’s not like they’re real waers, I guess, Sanguine said through a mouthful of eggs and potatoes and scooped the scramble onto both of their plates.

I know, he murmured, pushing the breakfast concoction around on his plate. For now, they're essentially dummies controlled by people, there to test your skills. Someday, they may be more than that.

They’re fake, she continued. "The ones in the hunt are made from