When she was a child, Scarlet’s grandmother had made her a beautiful hooded travelling cloak as red as her name, long enough to sweep the forest floor. Scarlet had loved the gift with all her heart and had taken to wearing it daily, in no time at all becoming so recognizable in the garment that the folk in her village had nicknamed her Little Red Cap in honour of it. The cloak was more of a small capelet now that she had grown into a young woman, but it suited her just as well, her grandmother patching and re-dying it whenever its vibrant hue began to fade.
One morning in late summer, her mother placed a satchel next to her bowl of breakfast porridge and said, “take these provisions, Scarlet my darling, and go pay a visit to your grandmother for she is still recovering from her illness. Your father, brothers, and I cannot be away from the farm today, and you are now old enough to make the journey yourself — go with our blessing.”
“But I have never gone alone,” she protested, “I could not possibly!”
“You have travelled the path often enough with us,” her mother reassured her, placing a warm hand upon her shoulder. “As long as you keep to the path and take care not to dawdle, you will reach your grandmother’s cottage before nightfall. It is not only the sight of your smiling face that will cheer her on this day, but the sight of your red cloak as well! Perhaps you will be the one to finally convince her to come live here with us.”
At last, Scarlet relaxed and picked up her spoon. “Very well, Mother, I will finish my porridge and set out.”
“Safe travels, my child.”
By the time she let herself out of the front gate, sidestepping a duck, her parents and brothers were barely visible out in the fields, but when she waved farewell to them they all waved back. A warm breeze swept up the road as she took to it, making of her cloak a bright red bloom in the morning sun, a sight that was impossible to miss. She blew her sweetheart, hard at work milking cows, a kiss as she walked by, receiving a grin in reply, and exchanged quick greetings with other villagers along the length of the road. Before long, she reached the edge of the forest.
It felt wonderfully strange to walk further into the trees on her own than she ever had before, and despite the butterflies making their presence known in her stomach, her mother had been right: Scarlet knew the way like the back of her hand. She veered off the path slightly to forage for some berries, then returned and began picking wildflowers here and there to give to her grandmother. At length, she rounded a bend and came face to face with an elderly woman she did not recognize.
“Good day,” Scarlet greeted her with a polite wave.
“Well met, Little Red Cap,” the old woman replied, clearly recognizing Scarlet by reputation alone. “It is good to see a friendly face in the forest. Where do you travel with so heavy-looking a pack?”
“To visit my grandmother who has been ill,” she explained while the old woman moved steadily toward her, “though my pack is not so heavy as all that.”
“What a dutiful girl you are!” The old woman exclaimed in admiration, coming still closer. “Though you do seem weary… perhaps you might like to trade your heavy pack for a bunch of my apples, and bring some to your grandmother. They are far lighter and more healthful than whatever you might be carrying. They would do you and your grandmother good.”
“They do sound wonderful, but I really must bring her what my parents have bid me to,” Scarlet said, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the old woman’s gaze. “I must continue on in order to arrive before nightfall, so I bid you adieu and safe travels.”
“A single apple would not hurt,” the old woman insisted, producing it from one of her pendulous sleeves. “Consider it a gift — a fruit to match the red of your cloak, of your name. A fruit to cure your grandmother of her illness.”
Scarlet was almost tempted to accept it, but stopped herself, unnerved by the old woman’s demeanour and the glossy sheen of the proffered apple. “You are truly too kind — but I must be on my way.”
And with that, she hurried forward until the croaked protests of the old woman were muffled into silence by the foliage at her back.
Scarlet’s pace once again turned leisurely when she had gone another hour without meeting anyone, and so she decided to stop and pick a few more flowers while enjoying the afternoon sunlight filtering in through the treetops. She only managed to glance at a deer before it noticed her and fled, but had more luck with a chaffinch observing her from a nearby tree. She pinched a few crumbs from the bread she carried in her satchel and sprinkled them on a log to try and tempt the bird to come closer. After a time, her patience was rewarded, the bird flying down to accept her meagre gift.
She was watching the bird peck at the crumbs with pleasure when a twig snapping behind her startled the little creature into flying off, causing her to flinch.
“A forest is a dangerous place for a maiden to travel in alone.”
She turned to look at the owner of the voice — a man she did not recognize, wearing an expression of concern.
“I have travelled it for many years and never suffered any danger… though it is true that I have never before travelled it alone,” she conceded after a moment’s pause.
“Then it is fortunate indeed that I happened upon you. What might I call you, gentle lady?”
“Well met, Sir. I am known as Little Red Cap in my village, and am humbled by your concern, but I must be on my way.”
He extended a hand to help her up. “And where might you be going so near to sundown, Little Red Cap?”
“Why to my grandmother’s cottage,” she replied, taking his hand and allowing herself to be pulled back to her feet. “My, what big hands you have.”
“All the better to steady you with,” he said, placing his other hand atop hers in a kindly manner. “Please, allow me to accompany you.”
“Oh, I really would not think to impose upon your time in such a way,” she said with a small smile. “I have but to follow this path and I will be there before I know it.”
“This path?” He frowned in concern. “I know of the cottage of which you speak, and were you to continue down this path, you would arrive long after dark. That would be far too dangerous a situation for a maiden such as yourself. There are wolves in these woods you know, beasts that become frightfully vicious once the sun has set. Please, I would never forgive myself if I left you unguarded — allow me the honour of seeing you to safety.”
There was truth to his words, she knew, and she felt a frisson of unease at the thought of walking through the woods alone in the dark. “If you truly do mean what you say, then I would graciously accept your kind offer.”
“I would not dream of leaving you unprotected,” he assured her. “And what is more, I know of a faster way to reach your grandmother’s cottage, one that would get us there before nightfall.”
“You do?” Scarlet asked in surprise as he led her off to the other side of the forest path, up to what appeared to be a faint trail, rather covered in overgrowth.
“It is old and rarely-used,” he conceded with a smile, “but I can clear the way for us with my axe. We will be there before you know it.” He pulled the woodcutting tool from a holster at his back.
“My, what a big axe you have,” she remarked with a touch of apprehension.
“All the better to cut away resistance with,” he told her jovially, turning away from her to do just that.
They kept up an amiable conversation as they progressed through the trail in the wood. Scarlet thanked him for his kindness numerous times while he continued to assure her they were nearly there. The forest grew dim as the sun slipped almost entirely below the horizon when at last she began to feel in her heart that something was wrong. Before she could decide what to do about her inexplicable feeling of dread, the woodcutter rounded on her suddenly, the edge of his razor-sharp axe head catching her in the thigh. She fell back, crying out in pained shock as he lunged forward to pin her to the ground, his terrifying grimace lit up harshly by the last light of dusk.
“W—what big eyes you have,” she remarked in a shaky whisper, heart pounding out of her chest.
“All the better to see you with, my dear,” he leered, cutting the ribbons of her blouse with the blade of the axe.
Her plea to be let go was met with an ugly laugh and she squeezed her eyes shut, hardly able to breathe for the terror as the weight bearing down on her body intensified. Then, all of a sudden, it lifted altogether. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see the woodcutter being torn away from her before staggering off to the side with a yowl of pain.
In the low light of the small clearing, she heard a guttural growl and then flinched again, yelping in fear as a wolf launched itself onto the woodcutter from out of the shadows to ram the man to the ground. The woodcutter had scarcely let out a groan of agony before the wolf’s jaws had closed right over his throat and ripped it out, spraying Scarlet’s face with blood.
She lay shaking and rooted to the spot as, several paces away, the man flailed uselessly under the wolf’s glare, impotent as the axe that lay discarded beside her. He gurgled a few last breaths, then went entirely limp. The wolf raised its head and howled a gruff, piercing note at the dark sky where the moon and the stars had since come into view.
Scarlet had never heard tell of a wolf on its own before; they had always been spotted in pairs and packs, slipping away through the woods just as soon as they were discovered.
The howl was not met with a reply.
No other wolves came.
The beast finally turned its attention to where she was lying on the ground, and she tried very hard not to sob audibly out of terror at its open, panting maw, at the blood spattered down its front, and at the throbbing pain in her thigh. Injured as she was, she could not possibly run away fast enough, and that horrific realization froze her in place.
“P—please, I mean you no harm…”
The wolf seemed to relax its posture a little at her shaking whisper, whining as it approached her. She closed her eyes with a sob… and flinched as the wolf licked her wound tentatively with another whine. She opened her eyes, astonished as the wolf licked her wound again and moved closer to nuzzle her belly and her side, as if telling her to get up. She acquiesced, shaky and in shock, to the unspoken request.
Then she reached a trembling hand out toward the wolf, knowing well that she had nowhere to run. The beast surprised her by responding again with gentleness, whining and nuzzling the hand she had offered it before licking the tears, mucous, and blood off her face, its tail wagging all the while.
“T—thank you,” she whispered, her gratitude welling out of her in a sob.
It sat, tilting its head slightly as though considering her words.
“But,” she continued, voice a bit stronger, “where is your pack, noble wolf?”
The wolf threw its head back to let out another long howl, then whined again after a moment when there was no reply.
“Oh…” she gasped in sudden understanding, tears welling in her eyes. “You are alone, like me… I am sorry, dear wolf.”
The wolf’s tailed wagged as if accepting her sympathy, then it got up to sniff at her hair, whining again as it gave the weeping gash on her thigh another gentle lick.
“That is very kind of you, but I do not think the bleeding is like to stop,” Scarlet murmured through the last of her tears, her voice soft as her heart finally calmed. She took off her careworn capelet of linen, folded it, and wrapped the cleanest part of it around her leg to protect the wound. No sooner had she done this than the wolf had put its head under one of her hands and whined again, pushing against her palm as if to tell her to stand up.
“I do not believe I can, sweet wolf.”
The wolf let out a short, insistent bark.
“Very well,” she assented with a watery smile, “I shall try.”
With that, Scarlet got up, the contents of her satchel all thankfully still intact, and left the axe where it had fallen, pointedly averting her eyes from the lifeless body of her assailant. She was wobbly on her feet, but as long as she put as little pressure as possible on her injured leg, she could walk. The wolf stayed by her side, keeping pace and supporting her when she needed to rest. They walked back the way Scarlet had come earlier, the wolf seeming to follow her lead.
“I must go to my grandmother. There, I will be able to heal my leg,” she told the wolf when they had finally returned to the path she was familiar with. “I would be glad of your company if you would like come with me, and at my word, no harm would come to you.”
The wolf panted and let out a gruff little bark of approval, tail wagging, which drew a smile from the human girl. Together, they took to the well-trod path, not stopping for more than a moment until they reached the cottage. It was long after dark when Scarlet knocked at her grandmother’s door, a warm orange glow emanating from under it.
“Who has come in the dead of night? Speak.”
“It is your granddaughter, Scarlet.”
“So it is!” Her grandmother exclaimed, her voice muffled behind the door. “What a happy surprise!”
“But grandmother,” Scarlet added, feeling somewhat apprehensive as the door was being unlatched from the inside, “please, you mustn’t do anything rash when you see my companion. I have assured him that he will be safe in our presence. He saved my life.”
“Saved your life?” Her grandmother asked, aghast, “My dear child, whatever do you mean?”
The door swung inward to reveal the concerned face of the middle-aged woman, a warm hand immediately coming to rest on Scarlet’s shoulder. “Are you injured?”
“My leg,” she said in a small voice, in danger of crying again now that she was safe in the presence of her grandmother.
She felt the other woman freeze, and then whisper, “a wolf has followed you here — say not a word and carefully step into the cottage so that I may shut the door.”
“No, grandmother,” Scarlet protested, “it is as I have just told you: this noble wolf saved my life!”
“Your companion is a wolf?”
“Please, take my word and do not harm him — he has lost his pack, and he is so very gentle a creature,” she insisted, finally allowing herself to weep with relief at having reached the sanctuary that was her grandmother’s home.
“Very well…” her grandmother replied with wary reluctance. “But this wolf is no male, my dear child. She is clearly pregnant and will give birth soon.”
Before Scarlet could register her shock at this revelation, her grandmother had wrapped an arm firmly around her back, taken an equally firm grip of one of her forearms, and guided her over to a chair by the fire. She sat down with her grandmother’s support, but let out an involuntary yelp of pain as her leg was straightened and the makeshift bandage removed. She started to tell her grandmother about the journey she had made that day, all the while watching as her friend the wolf cautiously approached the open door of the cottage and gingerly inched her way toward Scarlet’s chair.
She cried out in pain when her grandmother doused the wound with water she had boiled for her tea earlier that evening, and at her distressed call, the wolf had bridged the rest of the distance in a bound, whining and nosing at her palm.
“I am alright, sweet wolf,” she exhaled, words shaky, and at this, the wolf began to wag her tail with another whine.
“My, this wolf is gentle…” the middle-aged woman marveled in an undertone, her attention still focused on applying a salve to her granddaughter’s wound.
The pain receding somewhat with the salve and a soft linen bandage being carefully applied, Scarlet picked up the story where she had left off, telling her grandmother about the attack, and of the way the wolf had come to her aid out of the darkness and how the kind beast had walked by her side for the rest of the journey to the cottage.
“That is laudable indeed,” her grandmother said softly, eyes misting over with the depth of her gratitude. She stood and was wracked with a terrible cough for a moment, but waved Scarlet’s concerned expression away and continued over to the table where her hunting pack sat; from it, she drew out a hare that she had snared that day and returned to place it near the wolf. “Thank you,” she said solemnly, when the wolf looked up at her, “little mother. Kindness begets kindness.”
The wolf licked her own muzzle, panting slightly, and then leaned forward to give the offering a tentative sniff; all of a sudden, her tail began to wag with delight and she settled down onto the floor next to Scarlet’s chair to tear into the gift of a meal.
“A companion must have a name,” Scarlet’s grandmother advised her in a quiet voice, catching her granddaughter’s attention with a small smile.
The wolf paused in the enjoyment of her feast to look up at them both, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.
The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a shifting warmth and light up the wooden walls.
“Then from this day forth,” Scarlet said, reaching down to place a hand on the wolf’s head, “you shall be known as Moonsong, and we shall be your family.”
And that is the tale of how canines came to be our companions.
The End
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September 10, 2023.
The 71st episode of The Side B Anthology podcast.
Part of the Sable’s Tales fairytale anthology.
If you feel so inclined, I would gladly welcome a comment below, or a tip.
Liberal adaptation by Janique EA Bruneau (Jea)
of variations of the classic European fairytale known by the name,
Little Red Riding Hood or Little Red Cap.
Inspired in part by the ALICE NINE. songs Scarlet and RUMWOLF.