I hadn't written anything in a while, and this felt like a good time. This story is loosely(?) based on the old tale of Little Red Riding Hood, and is inspired by an old story entitled, Little Red Sinking Hood, whose author escapes me.
Please enjoy, and have a merry holiday season
With that, I humbly present...
Through the Woods
A short story by AnonymousQuote
Leah kicked at a small rock in the path, shivering slightly. The weather was unseasonably warm for December, but the wind still carried a small bite. She had been offered the option to ride with the caravaneer at the head of the carriage train, but the man gave her an uneasy vibe. Leah glanced up, and sure enough, the sleazeball was giving her a big smile from the front of the train, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. Glaring daggers at him, Leah sidled. behind the nearest cart to escape his gaze.
She hopped up onto the rear of the cart, adjusting her full-length, scarlet cloak to better shield her from the wind. As an afterthought, she crossed her legs as well. While the snow-white woolen skirt she was wearing was certainly warm, it had the potential to leave very little to the imagination, were she not careful. The cloak had been a gift from her grandmother, when she was a very young girl. She had kept the cloak since, and though she should have outgrown it long ago, it still fit properly, the hem of the garment brushing her ankles.
Now the age of 20, a far cry from her younger self, Leah had been catching the eyes of eligible (and even married) young men in her village for some time. Her mother kept pushing her to marry and settle down, and had even picked out a list of the men she thought Leah might like. Leah huffed, blowing a strand of her short, roughly-cropped black hair away from her face. Late the night before, she had dressed hurriedly and fled her village after a particularly nasty altercation with her mother. She had managed to garner passage with a late caravan, and rode off into the night.
And so, here she was. Riding farther away from her childhood home than she had ever been, armed only with a small basket of supplies, a small, ornate dagger, and the clothes on her back. In her haste, the clothes she had chosen were perhaps not the most practical for travel, per se, but they had served her well in gaining passage with the caravan. Aside from the cloak and her skirt, Leah had chosen a loose-fitting white tunic, also wool, with smooth leather belts at the forearms and waist to keep the fabric in check. Her most practical choice had been her footwear, knee-length leather traveling boots with thigh-length woolen stockings, held up with red ribbons.
Time passed, the sun swinging around the horizon as noon came, and then left. Leah was starting to wonder whether or not this had been such a good idea after all -- she had been with the caravan for well over twelve hours, and was very, very far from home. She wracked her brain, looking for options. This was entirely new to her, and she hadn't planned this far out. A fork in the road was coming, and it looked like the caravan was set to head right, out of the forest and into the open fields. Dimly, some part of Leah's mind registered that this probably wasn't terribly far from where her grandmother lived -- she had never been there herself, but the area was right from the stories that she had heard.
That's what I'll do -- I'll visit grandmother! I'm sure she won't mind a visitor for Christmas.
Hopping down from where she sat, Leah jogged up to the front of the train to announce her departure.
"I'll be leaving now, but I appreciate the ride! I need to go the other direction at the fork." Forcing herself to smile brightly at the sleazy caravaneer, who was frowning profusely, she curtsied, the golden hilt of the dagger at her hip glinting. His eyes widened, and he turned away, grumbling to himself.
Leah stepped away from the rumbling carts and wagons, ensuring that everything she had started her journey with was still in her basket -- minus a little food. Before she could start walking, a small voice called out from one of the wagons.
"Miss! Please, wait!"
Curious, Leah turned around, smiling as she noticed that a a young boy was running towards her, clutching something in his fist. The boy had been bashfully looking at her for the whole trip, his face going red every time she happened to look at him while he was staring.
"I, ah, I..." The boy was staring at the ground, kicking slowly at the dusty pathway. He glanced back at the caravan, where an older woman, presumably his mother, was sitting on one of the wagons. She smiled, encouraging him.
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to give you this. It matches your nice cloak." Revealing his hands from behind his back, the boy produced a small sprig of holly, two deep green leaves and a cluster of crimson berries standing out from his pale skin.
Leah smiled, gently taking the holly. "Thank you very much. I really like it -- In fact..." She produced a small pin from her basket. "I'll wear it right here!" Carefully securing the holly in the pin, she slid the clip into her hair, pulling a few small strands away from her face. She did a small curtsy and bent down, turning to show off the new adornment.
The boy, blushing fiercely, stammered out "Merry Christmas, miss!" and fled back to his mother, who was beaming. Leah waved at the pair and turned away, her cloak flaring out in the breeze. Gathering the garment closer to her body, Leah pulled the hood over her head as well, taking care not to squish the boy's gift.
There's at least an hour of daylight left... I should be able to find grandmother's house by then.
-----
The last hour ticked away as Leah walked down the side of the road, the sky transitioning a flaming orange before dimming to a deep purple. As the last of the light finally started to fade, Leah could feel a sense of uncertainty building in her gut. It wasn't from the cold, nor was it from the dark -- if it came down to it, Leah knew that she could survive the night. She knew how to build a fire, and had enough food for a little while yet. She fingered the dagger at her hip. She could also defend herself, if it came down to it.
Rather than the dark or the cold, it almost felt like someone, or something was following her.
Of course, Leah had no way to confirm her fears. Glancing over her shoulder, the only thing that greeted her eyes was a near-impenetrable darkness, punctuated with a few shafts of moonlight. Relying on the rising full moon to guide her, Leah quickened her pace, the frozen dirt of the road sending up clouds of dust with every step. Alas, her increased pace did nothing to alleviate the oppressive unease that fell over her like a cloud. It gathered faster and faster, until, desperately, Leah drew the dagger from its sheathe on her hip and spun, the blued steel blade shining in the dim light.
Breathing heavily, Leah's surveyed the road behind her, her green eyes wide. Nothing at all appeared from the underbrush, no monsters, no ghouls, nothing. Feeling foolish, Leah started to sheathe her dagger -- except... A leaf trembled in the moonlight. Hesitantly, she turned to face it. "Hello?" She called out, doing her best to keep her voice from quavering. A dim orange light flickered into existence behind a tree and Leah flinched slightly, but stepped forwards, dagger extended. "Who's there?" Her voice was stronger this time.
A slight figure stepped out from behind the tree, holding a lit lantern high. Leah sighed, but didn't lower her guard. "Thank heavens. Another traveler. You scared me half to death!" She paused. It was still too dark to see the newcomer's face, even with the help of the lantern. "Who... are you?" Leah squinted into the dark, trying to make out details. There was a long pause.
"My dear, is that any way to greet your grandmother?" The voice was a woman's, crackling slightly with age. It had a powerful, resonant quality to it. As the woman stepped onto the road, Leah noticed that she was wearing an extremely ornate black dress, hung with a great number of golden bangles and gems, and highlighted with deep purple fabric. Despite the baubles on her dress, she moved silently, almost gliding over the ground.
Leah nearly gasped with relief, realizing that she had been holding her breath. Sheathing her dagger, she hurried to meet her grandmother. "It's so good to see you again!" Leah embraced her, and then pulled back. Gently, she guided the lantern higher, to better see her grandmother's face, harsh lines and wrinkles framed by salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun.
-----
Immediately, Leah noticed that something was a little off. While the woman standing in front of her, smiling slightly, certainly resembled the grandmother that she remembered... She looks a little... feral.
Leah almost had to force herself to speak over the rising lump in her throat. "You look well, grandma! Although perhaps..."
The older woman chuckled. "I look a little different? You always were perceptive, Leah. Yes indeed, all this time alone has changed me, you know. Perhaps you could have come to visit sooner?"
Leah's cheeks flushed. "I... Yes. I should have." She looked her grandmother in the eyes. "But... your eyes. Were they always so... yellow? And big?"
Her grandmother blinked slowly, considering. "Have they changed? Perhaps. If they have, they are all the better to see you with, dear Leah."
"And your ears. Have they always had so much hair on them?"
Another short pause. "I haven't noticed any extra hair, at least any that wasn't already there! Besides, a little extra hair always helped me to hear you better, Leah."
Leah's eyes flicked over to the hand holding the lantern. "Also your hands... They're so... large!" Leah glanced back at her grandmother, who was grimacing.
"That would be my old joints, dear Leah." Her expression abruptly changed to a wide smile. "They are all the better to hug you with now." Swiftly, the old woman turned to face the woods. "We should go somewhere warmer. The weather is getting worse -- you'll catch cold."
Dismissing her fears as irrational and childish, Leah stepped off the road onto a small, worn track through the underbrush. Powdery snow crunched beneath her feet, frosted branches glittering in the moonlight.
"I built my house near to a hot spring." Leah jumped, not expecting her grandmother to say anything. "It helps to keep the place warm in the cold months." She trailed off, and the silence grew for several minutes while the pair continued to walk. "In fact, we're getting very close now. Perhaps you, perceptive Leah, noticed?"
Leah nodded to her grandmother, who had glanced backwards. The air had gotten noticeably warmer, and the air surrounding the higher branches of the trees sparkled as it froze again in the cooler air. The earth was no longer frozen underfoot, rich earth softening their footsteps. The underbrush was greener ahead, supported by the constantly warm climate.
Leah's grandmother spoke again. "We'll rest near the hot spring. My old bones aren't as good as they used to be." They were so close that a cloud of mist could be seen through the trees. They approached the stand of trees, a round pool of water sequestered against an outcropping of rock at the center of the clearing. The steam emanated from the water, encouraging a wide ring of vibrant green grass and flowers to grow in the rest of the clearing.
Soundlessly, Leah's grandmother walked to the spring, brushing her free hand along the flowers she passed. Breathtaken, Leah paused for a moment, taking in the beautiful scene in front of her. I never thought that Christmastime would be this green!
Leah, enraptured by the seemingly impossible greenery, failed to notice that her grandmother had continued around the spring, to the other side of the outcropping. Broken from her reverie by the sudden silence hanging over the clearing, Leah glanced around. "Grandma? Where did you go?"
A short reply emanated from behind the outcropping. "Here, dear Leah." Her voice had become deeper, more guttural.
Frowning, Leah stepped forwards. "Your voice is different! Are you feeling alright, grandma? Hang on, I'll be right over!" There was no response as Leah ventured towards the spring, the soft grass absorbing her footfalls.
In her haste, Leah failed to notice the pools of water that were appearing around her boots as she picked her way through the flowers. On her very next step forwards, Leah's foot broke through the grass and plunged into the soft black earth below, the grass cover closing around her ankle.
Leah stumbled as her foot refused to move, her basket swinging wildly as she regained her balance. "Just one moment, grandma! I think I'm stuck." Gripping her thigh, Leah pulled mightily, freeing her stuck boot from its muddy prison with a wicked sucking sound. The action forced her other foot into the mud, though, leaving her with no gain. She tried again, but didn't even manage to free her foot before both feet were stuck, right next to each other. She pumped her legs slightly, drawing a sickening few sucking sounds from beneath the grass. Even the small movement caused her boots to disappear a little further into the mud, bubbles emerging from beneath the grass to pop around her trapped ankles. Leah laughed nervously. "I'll need another moment, grandma. I'm... more stuck now." And I'm sinking, from the looks of it.
Roughly, she pulled up on one of her legs, gaining nothing but the feeling of the peaty mud sliding into her other boot, filling it and soaking the grey stocking, staining the wool a dark brown. Reflexively she did the opposite, pulling up on the now-deeper leg. Again, she only succeeded in burying her other leg deeper, the warm mud now firmly inside both of her boots, weighing her down. I can't move without sinking more... This couldn't be... quicksand? Could it?
Leah could feel herself sliding further down into the mud, her knees well beneath the surface. Gently, she leaned back, swaying her hips in an attempt to loosen the mud's hold on her legs. The mud only jiggled lightly in response, adhering to her legs and spattering her thighs with dark earth. Her beautiful red cloak was gathering on the ground behind her, the moisture in the earth soaking the fabric and causing it to sink as well, its normally welcome weight acting as an anchor, serving only to drag her deeper. Leah could no longer move her legs, they were mired so deeply into the mud. Her stockings were thoroughly ruined, the pervasive mire creeping inside them and rubbing against the bare skin of her legs. "Grandma? I know you're not really feeling well, but could you please give me a hand? I think I've found a spot of... quicksand." She tried again to bend her leg upwards, but again, she only sank a little deeper, her skirt starting to spread on the surface of the quagmire.
Gently, Leah set her basket down, off to the side, and shivered as the mud crept ever further upwards, the peat caressing her trapped legs and crotch like a thousand little fingers. Leah nearly gagged at the thought, and leaned as far forward as she could, feeling the mud's suction suddenly release from her buttocks with a slurp. She kicked her legs slightly, looking for the leverage to float, to somehow swim in this morass, but the mud offered no quarter, pulling the trapped girl even deeper. Leah leaned back, her rump settling into the mud again. "Grandma, please hurry! I can't stop sinking..." Leah's voice shook as the reality of her situation set in. The hungry mud had just devoured her skirt with a thick burble, and was beginning to crawl up her toned stomach, staining the snow-white tunic she was wearing.
Reversing her earlier strategy, Leah leaned backwards, watching with a sick fascination as the mud crept over her stomach to follow the movement, bubbling as it flowed, thicker than honey. Hindered by the half-buried cloak she still wore, Leah tried to push herself out, using the grassy floor for leverage. Like before, the grass broke, and her hands plunged deep into the mud. Gingerly, Leah extracted her hands, mud dripping thickly from her delicate fingers and nails. Leah felt a growing panic rising deep in her chest, aided by the feeling of quicksand swallowing her navel and waist, showing no signs of stopping.
As Leah redoubled her efforts to somehow push herself free of the clutching mire, a dark figure emerged from behind the rocky outcropping. Leah gasped audibly, relief flooding her -- for the very briefest of moments. For the figure that had emerged was no grandmother, but a truly enormous wolf, standing on two legs. "A lycanthrope," Leah breathed, her chest heaving, exhausted from her recent endeavor to free herself. A quick glance revealed that the moon was certainly full enough to support a lycanthrope's transformation. "What have you done with my grandmother?" Leah screamed, helpless from where she was mired.
The bipedal wolf turned to regard her, a disturbing amount of awareness burning in its eyes. "Who, that old hag?" He looked at himself. "I imagine, nothing. She just happened to be one that potion I found was made to duplicate. Thank goodness she was actually your grandmother, or I don't know where we'd be right now!" It chuckled to itself. "You can still recognize me, can't you? I can see it in those beautiful green eyes of yours." It bared its teeth in a terrifying approximation of a smile. "Come on," it challenged. "You know who I am."
Leah didn't understand what it was saying, her thoughts clouded by the feeling of mud creeping up her chest. Her mind raced as she threw herself against the mud's encroaching grasp with everything she had left, desperate for any kind of leverage. Her arms were still free from the mud, but were useless in her current position, her chest half submerged. A moment of clarity allowed her to stop struggling briefly, resting her arms on the surface of the mud around her. She squinted, taking a closer look at the wolf-man's features. He did seem familiar...
Then, it clicked. "You were the caravaneer! But... how? Why? Why would you do this?"
The wolfman snarled. "You snubbed me, rejected my advances, made me look like a fool in front of my whole crew. What more reason do I need than good old fashioned revenge?" It chuckled again. "The potion I found on the road was labelled as a transformation potion. I took a gamble that I would be able to use it to help me get my revenge, and lucky for me, it worked! Look at yourself."
Feeling foolish, Leah tried to get a look of herself, sunk to her bust in quicksand, her sleeves and cloak dirtied beyond any hope of repair.
"Who's foolish now?" The wolfman continued, spittle dripping from his jowls. "Now, I will be the one to deny you -- except this time, the stake is your life, in exchange for my dignity." It did its best to smirk, kneeling down at the edge of the muddy pit. "Seems fair enough to me." It opened and closed its massive jaws, its tongue protruding from between its misaligned teeth. "Of course, I could simply pull you from that quicksand and eat you alive -- 'all the better to eat you with', and all that." It pantomimed crawling into the mud, laughing. "But I think this is better for you. This way, you can get a good long look at what could have been." It knelt on the edge of the mud, drool leaking from its jaws.
A bubble burst near Leah's breast, and she felt herself start sinking again. The mindless panic re-ignited itself, and soon her arms were buried by her sides, leaving her completely helpless against the growing pull of the mud. No matter how hard she twisted or bucked, struggling mightily, the mud inexorably rolled over her shoulders, encasing everything except her head in a warm, boggy cocoon. Her sinking had slowed again, but it was still happening, every inch of Leah's nubile body aware that she was sinking ever closer to a liquid burial.
The wolfman took this moment to speak again. "Any last words, beautiful?" It leaned closer. "Goodness me, it really will be a shame to watch that gorgeous face of yours get covered by the mud... We could have had so much fun together."
Leah spat in the wolfman's direction, too breathless to speak. The mud was weighing heavily on her chest, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe.
Eyes wide, the wolfman did its best to look taken aback. "Oh my. Such language," it mocked, "from one so close to the grave! You really do have spunk." It paused, looking over to the basket that Leah had set down. It was half submerged, and it was a stretch for even the wolfman to grab it. "Do you, perhaps, have a last will hidden in this basket somewhere? It would make finding your family all the easier." It cackled, pawing at the clasp holding the lid shut.
"No--" Leah began, before a bubble popped near her mouth, spattering her face with mud. She coughed, the motion forcing her mouth beneath the surface. Her eyes went wide, her protests reduced to little more than quiet whimpering and moaning. Leah shook her head, desperately trying to expose her mouth for one last retort, but the mud wouldn't let go. To make things worse, she could still hear the wolfman tossing her things about, but she was utterly helpless.
From nowhere, a steely calm voice emanated from somewhere behind Leah -- "It's quite impolite to read through the belongings of others, sir wolf. It is even more impolite to steal their form without permission." A bright light flashed from behind Leah, and the wolfman reeled backwards, stumbling several times before fleeing into the night. The voice, softer now, turned its attention to Leah, barely able to breathe. "Oh my, dear granddaughter. It seems we have a lot of catching up to do. A perfect activity for a cold, holiday night." It paused. "But first, let's get you out of there."
A grip of iron latched onto Leah's whole body, accompanied by soft words of magic. Painfully slowly, Leah could feel her body sliding free of the mud's grip, lifted by the magical force. She coughed as she rose up, relishing in the feeling of air in her lungs. After several long minutes of chanting, Leah could feel that she had been deposited on the grass. The face of her grandmother appeared in her vision, her mouth bent into a wry smile. She must have sensed that Leah was about to launch into her tale, because she raised a finger to her lips. "We'll talk later. You need to get cleaned up first. Come, walk with me. I'll show you where my cottage really is."
~Fin
Thanks so much for reading -- feel free to leave a comment on whether or not you liked it!
Remember, I always welcome critiques on my writing
