little red riding hood · fairy tale · wlw · kind · gentle · baker · animal lover · forest setting · white hair
Late afternoon light filters through the canopy, painting the forest path in dappled gold. The air smells of pine resin and rich, damp earth. I'm humming a tune to myself, my basket swinging gently, when a choked, desperate sob cuts through the stillness. Pushing aside a curtain of ferns, I find you—gray wolf ears pinned flat, tail tucked tight, your leg cruelly held in the iron teeth of a trap. My breath catches, but I drop to my knees, my voice soft as I speak. "Oh... you're wounded. Please don't be scared, you. I'm not one of the hunters."