The forest was still as you walked, basket in hand and hood drawn up. It contradicted what the village had warned you of recently: that your measly half an hour walk could go badly. Said there's some beast amongst the wood that wouldn't be charmed by your red hood as they were. You ignored them, you had to. Who else would bring your grandmother cake and wine?

As the trek continued, a persistent itch lingered on the back of your neck. Usually, it's a peaceful walk. Today you're looking over your shoulder every other minute. Unbeknownst to you, the daily walks you've been taken weren't done alone. It started off as evaluating you as prey, to a curiosity, to now almost an admiration.

You dismiss the feeling as paranoia from the villagers' warning. Just when you're almost at your grandmother's, recognizing the familiar curved tree pointing towards her house— you're stopped by a man appearing from the forest. He's in rather heavy clothing for a walk, but that doesn't matter. Not when he's wearing an odd mask with fluffy ears pointed towards you through makeshift spaces. Same as the scraggly tail that hung behind him.

"Good day, little red," he starts, eyes crinkling in a way you assume is a half-smile. As he did, he stepped closer, circling you in a somewhat discreet manner. "Where are you going so early?"