Hunt - Red Riding Hood Retold

ONE "Once upon a time, a king fell in love with the goddess of love. They were very happy together, and she bore him a son. "Though he had many older sons by his previous wives, she wanted him to name this child his heir. But the king did not. "This king worshipped an ancient god of the forest, who had protected his kingdom for generations, and he prayed daily at the god's altar. "One day, when he was at his prayers, his goddess wife came to find him. Instead of praying like he usually did, the king had her son lying on top of the altar, and the king beseeched his god to take the boy as his servant, to better protect the kingdom. "The goddess was incensed – the boy was hers, he did not belong to some god of trees – so she snatched the child up in her arms. Only to discover that the boy no longer drew breath – the king had sacrificed him to his barbaric god, who relished such things. "She raised her hand to strike the king dead, as he had struck her son, but the king's youngest son, whose mother had died birthing him, came running in, and wrapped himself about the queen's legs, for he saw her as the only mother he had known, and loved both her and his little brother dearly. "The king feared for his son, and begged for the boy's life. "The queen – not just a goddess, but a powerful sorceress, too – called down a terrible storm. The raging winds destroyed the palace, and lightning struck each of the king's sons, killing them instantly. All but the youngest, who she allowed to live. "The king she turned into a white wolf, so pale the shepherds of his flocks instantly saw him coming, and chased him away until he vanished into the deep woods, high into the mountains. "The youngest son became king, building a new capital closer to the trade routes, and he ushered in a time of great prosperity for the kingdom, because he was greatly favoured by both his father's god and the goddess of love, his stepmother. "She favoured him so much that she allowed him to marry one of her own daughters by her new lover, and both king and queen were very happy and had many children. "But the old king, the white wolf...he stayed in the mountains, hidden from humans, until the worst winter snows covered the towns. Only then would he venture out, his white fur blending perfectly with the snow, as he hunted for the enchantress who had killed his sons." "But did he ever find her, Grandmother?" Rosa asked. Grandmother flashed an enigmatic smile. "The tales never say, so I suppose he did not. Perhaps his time came, and he died, and that's where his story ends." Rosa wrinkled her nose. "Or perhaps it is nothing more than a tale, and this king never truly lived at all." "Perhaps," Grandmother agreed. She glanced out the window, where the late afternoon light was already turning the shutters rosy. "But it never hurts to be careful, especially on your way home through the forest. Practise your magic, too, on your way. I'm not sure what will fall first, snow or night, but you'd best be home before both. And don't forget to take the medicine for Edda. She might not last the winter, but we must help her all we can to see the spring." Rosa thought of the ancient woman, who never left her cottage now. "Edda has seen many springs already. What good is one more?" Another enigmatic smile. "When it might be your last, you will always fight for one more. One more season, one more day...perhaps even one more minute, for a lot can be said in that time. But I pray it is a long time before you know the truth of it in your heart. Now, go home, child, and don't forget your cloak, for you will need it in the snow." "Yes, Grandmother." Rosa lifted the brand new cloak her grandmother had given her only hours before, and flung it around her shoulders. The fine red wool hung heavily, so that none but the strongest gust of wind could disturb it. It was the cloak of a lady or a princess, not a carpenter's daughter. All her other cloaks had been brown, to match her humble station. To wear something so rich and vibrant seemed to scream for attention from the very heavens themselves. "The village needs to see you for what you are, for one day, when I am gone, you will be their witch, and they will need to know who to come to," Grandmother said, as if reading her thoughts. If she was simply a healer, a woman who knew her herbs, it would be fine, but if the town knew her magic was the elemental kind, and far more powerful than her grandmother's...Rosa gulped. The other girls already thought her strange. If they knew what she could do... "Be off with you, child! And practise!" Grandmother shooed her out of the house.