Little red riding hood

It had been months since Gaelen’s attack, resulting in his arm nearly torn in two, right leg broken and fissured by claw marks, and his torso riddled with deep scores and puncture marks from teeth most ferocious. Mildly he was surprised that memory from his life before yet remained, his mauling at the hands of the wolf certainly was the most vivid of his recollections from his old life. But remember he did, and at the sight of this girl, Scarlet, wandering down the woodland path, the memories became clearer still.

A young man of the nearby village,

He had been once, not the most handsome, nor the strongest by any means, but an eligible bachelor all the same. Second Apprentice to the towns’ blacksmith, he had earned a fair wage and meager respect from his peers and was regarded for his honest nature; likely he would have had a fine future carved for himself had it not been for misjudgment on his part. Smitten by the bakers daughter, he had begun to spend much of his free time courting the fair Scarlet. Thought the girl was sought after by many of the towns young men, Gaelen thought himself closer than many to her heart.

One day, Scarlet had told him that she could only love one who was truly brave of heart, and referring to the rumors surrounding the mutilation of much of the towns livestock over the past few months, stated that only one who was brave enough to slay the apparent werewolf who was tearing apart the poor creatures would be worthy of her affections.

That very evening, by the silvery light granted by the waxing of the gibbous, Gaelen posted himself in the fields where much of the slaughter had taken place.

Many hours he had waited, and when he had nearly given up the evening to return home, he heard the bleating of a goat in agony. Rushing to the creatures side he came upon a vision from a nightmare. The beast had eviscerated the poor animal, and was vigorously ripping the innards from the goat, snout buried in the creatures abdomen as though it were a horse wearing a feed bag.

The monster was now going upon four legs, but was clearly capable of roaming on two, and now only deign to haunch over to tear what it must consider the best of the bits from its still quivering prey. Though obscured head to foot with thick fur, the creature rippled with muscles, it’s tendons and sinews jolting with the horror’s every lurch to grasp more entrails within the fallen goat. Momentarily frozen at the sight of the beast, Gaelen finally mustered the courage to attack and leapt, swinging an axe gilded with silver at the monster. Though effective, his fist blows were not lethal, and the wolf retaliated in kind with tooth and claw. Gaelen was left tragically wounded, the bipedal wolf retreated to the woods and did not return for him. Days later, a locally known vagrant was found in the heart of the forest near the village, rend with what appeared to be axe blows.

And though the young man showed tremendous courage, he was looked upon with disdain, many accused him of butchering the livestock in the night himself, turning his own axe upon himself and the vagrant in the hopes of gaining notoriety in the town. Scarlet was taken by these whisperings, and refused to speak to him, despite the terrible injuries on her behalf.

Many did not suspect Gaelen would survive the next coming nights, thinking him to injured by his own weapon to pull through, but by the second evening, he had nearly healed and was able to wander about of his own volition. Shunned everywhere he turned, Gaelen returned to the very field he had been when his life had been changed forever. He stood, staring into the sky when the moon, pulling on him as she did the tides, changed him forever. His hands burst into claws, his mouth sprouted terrible fangs, and his body bristled with fur head to toe like that of a wolf. His stomach burned and burned, and only upon ripping open a young cow did he discover how to sate his new hunger. Soon he found he could no longer revert to his human form, and was bound in the flesh of the wolf.

Now, months later, he found himself stalking the very woman he had fawned after, tracking her down the path he knew would lead to her elderly grandmothers house. Even from so far away, he could smell the baked goods she carried in her crooked arm, hidden beneath the crimson traveling cloak she cherished so much.

Wolf now though he was, steadily he had regained much of his human minds faculties, and was able to plot revenge. And as he stalked the girl in the red hood, he hatched a most insidious scheme...