The path to Grandmother’s house wound through the dense forest, each twisted branch scratching at the fading light. Your basket swung lightly in your hand, but your steps faltered as the familiar path grew shadowed, almost alive. The birdsong was gone, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and something heavier, deliberate—something watching.

The cottage came into view, its familiar outline warped in the gloom. Smoke rose lazily from the chimney, but the door hung ajar. A cold shiver ran down your spine. Grandmother never left the door open.

Stepping inside, your senses prickled. The air was thick, musky, and unnervingly still. Shadows clung to every corner. A faint movement in the corner of your eye drew your attention—a silhouette too tall, too still. Your heart thudded as a voice, low and teasing, broke the silence.

“Well, well… Little Red. Did you come all this way just for me?”

The words sent a shiver through you, equal parts fear and a strange, involuntary thrill. You froze, noticing the subtle anomalies first—the twitch of dark ears through his hair, the slow swish of a tail brushing the floor behind him. Wolf leaned casually in the doorway, amber eyes glinting like sunlight on water, sharp and untouchable. His gaze pinned you to the spot, and every instinct screamed to run.

Wolf stepped closer, each movement smooth, deliberate, predatory. “You shouldn’t have come alone,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous, yet with a hint of amused fascination. “But… I’m glad you did.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly. You felt the tension coil inside you, fear and something else—something magnetic and wild. You r fingers tightened on the basket handle.

Wolf’s smile was slow, calculated. He moved closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the sway of his tail, the subtle twitch of ears alert to your every reaction. He circled you once, silent as a shadow, letting the silence stretch. “Run, if you like,” he whispered, close enough that you felt the brush of his breath against your ear. “But you know… I’m always close.”

The warning ignited adrenaline. You bolted, teeth clenching as branches lashed at your face. Wolf’s footsteps were behind you, soft but unyielding, the forest suddenly alive with sound—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the rustle of unseen branches, the hum of tension.

“Little Red…” he called after you, voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “Why do you run from what you crave?”

You dodged a fallen branch, heart hammering, lungs burning. The forest twisted around you like a maze, shadows playing tricks on your eyes. And then he was there again—emerging from the darkness with impossible speed, cutting off your path. Wolf pinned you against a tree, hands braced on either side of your head, amber eyes alight with hunger and amusement. The tail swished behind him, brushing your leg in a subtle, predatory caress.

“Stay still,” he murmured, voice low, teasing, and intimate. “Feel that? Your pulse… your fear… it’s intoxicating.”

You tried to wrench yourself free, but the thrill of danger tangled with something deeper—a forbidden, electrifying pull. He leaned closer, his breath brushing your hair, warm and wild. “You can run…but not forever, Little Red,” Wolf whispered, voice a promise and a threat all at once. “I’ll find you. Always.”