White as Snow, Red as Silver

Little Red, where is your Wolf?


1. Prologue

Once, forever ago, I met a wolf in the forest behind my grandmother's castle. Back then, I never knew of the dangers of the forest. I never knew of the poisonous flowers or the corrupted animals; the killer swamps or the lurking gardens.

It happened to be there, in the forest where I was forbidden to explore, that I met...

The Wolf. 

What a curious creature he was.


She walked along a weeded path, humming a familiar folk song that passed around the kingdom:

The weep of Red
And Cry of Night
Does your Heart Bleed Silver
As you settle upon the Throne of Sight?

Is it richer than Blood?
Or warmer than Silver?
Of a Crown of Glass?
Or made out of Silva?

Can you wear your Joker's Hat?
The Crown of a Bishop?
The Queen's gorgeous Gown?
Or be the Goddess of Mishap?

How Red is your Heart?
Is it as Red as Silver?
Perhaps it is as Silver as the Throne that you claim is Red
Is it?

Little Red, where is your Wolf?
One who brings misfortune with it's dishonesty
Little Red, where is the Wolf?
Is he redder than you are? 
If so, please, bring him to me


She didn't know the tale behind the song (she was sure that it would be confusing), but she did like the part about Little Red.

'That's what grandma calls me!' She thought happily, ignorant to the dark shadow that crept alongside her path.

It was large, standing taller than she, with piercing green eyes that glowed eerily in the dark atmosphere. The little girl stuck out like a sore thumb with her red cloak and silver hair. She was entirely too present. 

Swinging her woven basket gaily, she continued on her way into the unknown. Slowly, so very gradually that it became unnoticed, the forest began to grow even darker. The little girl remained within her original state of bliss, stopping once or twice to pick a flower and place it into her basket.

She gave a delighted, "Oh my!" when she stumbled upon a meadow heavily laden with wildflowers. Evergreen trees, almost as high as the mountains that loomed behind them, with rich, green leaves, scattered the example of natures' garden in clusters.

Settling into a bed of Nightlingjayes and Dyscords, flowers that are so transparent in color that they look as if they were made from crystal, Little Red started picking and placing the flowers around her.

Mist from the mountains came rolling in, and so did her original predator.

It stalked in silently, it's thick paws (toughened from the forest's harsh environment) but a whisper disguised into Little Red's merry humming.

The poor girl. She was so unaware of every dangerous thicket -every dangerous thorn- of the forest that hid the Silver within her being. So she continued on with her flower picking, even as the beast behind her gave a mighty growl that shook the leaves from each surrounding tree.

Her mind wasn't in sync with her body. And suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, she wasn't entirely impervious to the Big Baddie that crouched behind her. Her mind told her that something wasn't right, and that she should just go home and give up on the adventure. Her body was an entirely different story; it never paused, never faltered, in the task that it set upon itself.

It gave no room for disobedience. It told Little Red that she would pick all of the flowers in the field, never to stop until her fingers bled. 

Little Red wasn't at fault. She couldn't be when she was so young and uninformed. Her Silver ordered her body into a meaningless task, thus tuning all surroundings out.

The Beast was all too aware of this predicament.

So he pounced.







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