Red Wolfe (8 page)

“John?”

“You’re scaring off all of the game,” he angrily said, materializing from behind a great oak. “And you will not address me in such an informal manner.” He perched his bow against his shoulder in an annoyed fashion.

“About last night,” she began. “I didn’t realize—I mean my dres
s, it had caught on fire, hadn’t it?”

He didn’t reply.

“But I guess if you hadn’t been so cruel as to throw that book into the fire I wouldn’t have been down there for my dress to catch fire in the first place.”

He still remained silent, but his eyes were intensely staring her down.

“Well, I’m headed back to town.
Merci and adieu!”

She
stomped through the woodland, trying to avoid logs and wounding roots that cut from the frozen earth.  It was hard to focus on the task at hand since that man, once again with barely uttering a word, had fanned her temper into a hot rage.

However,
he couldn’t be all that bad. Ellena recalled how he had come to her aid, but then she remembered all of the horrible, shameless things he had done, his insults, unabashed remarks, destructive antics and her anger flared again.

It was all very confusion and
frustrating. Maybe he was just trying to pretend to care to gain her trust? But then again that did not seem like his character, she thought. He was always so blunt, brutally blunt about his feelings. It made no sense for him to start being deceitful now, but which was the real
Monsieur
John Wolfe? That is what upset her the most— the uncertainty.

She wasn’t sure how long she
had been walking when her foot suddenly hit something.

“Danielle’s basket!” Ellena
grasped the woven handle. Now she was sure that she was heading the right way. A few more steps and she was back at the base of the hall that led to the village.

Ellena was running now. Well, running as much as the heavy,
banks of snow would allow. Her lungs were burning as she reached the main road to the village. A few people were scuttling about doing their daily routines.

“
Monsieur
Ansel!” The older gentleman had come from around the corner and Ellena released a happy cry, rushing towards him.

“I see you still have the basket,” he said. “You must not have found
Madame
Danielle, yet.”

“
Monsieur
, you won’t believe where I’ve been,” she laughed. It almost seemed like a dream now that she was back.

“You didn’t go down to the forest edge, did you? I knew when I told you about that
last week I knew you’d be running off to it as soon as you were out the door.”

Ellena could only gape at him in astonishment. “
Monsieur
Ansel, I’ve only been gone for two days.”

“What are you jabbering about?
It’s been over a week since I last saw you.”

His remark came as quite a shock. “I’m not feeling well,” Ellena mumbled.

“You do look rather pale. Let me help you.”

She clutched his arm as he escorted her back to the inn. “I just need to rest,” Ellena answered, trying to avoid the probing questions that Ansel asked as they walked. 

The innkeeper was dusting her desk as Ellena entered.

“
Bonjour
!”

She
could only weakly nod before fleeing to her room. It was just the same as when she had left two days ago. At least, she thought it was two days ago. The basket dropped to her feet and Ellena sat down in a rather uncomfortable chair by the door.

Surely, Ansel had been mistaken. The older gentleman must have been confused.
It wouldn’t be so farfetched. He was getting along in years. She coughed, her throat feeling sore and dry. Ellena was about to go down for a cup of water when something caught her eyes, something that made her heart jump into her throat.

“It can’t be,” she breathed. Her trembling fingers inched closer to Danielle’s basket. She had seen it
burned with her own eyes. It had been destroyed, seared to ashes, but here it was innocently sitting in the woven basket. She flipped it over to find bright silver letters staring back at her. It was no mistake. The familiar words were etched across the red cover just as before.

Frances Folklores. 

    
       Chapter Six

The wine was disappearing at an amazing rate as Ellena paced about the room. Lunch had been brought just moments before and Ellena had instantly reached for the pitcher. The food was completely forgotten as she tried to come to some logical conclusion regard the books mysterious appearance. Her hands seem to have a mind of their own as they endlessly rung themselves over and over again.

She was watching the book
, still quietly lying where she had found it. The alcohol was helping as it coursed through her veins and sent her on an adrenaline rush. She snatched the red book up, but froze, not really sure what to expect.

Nothing happened and s
he suddenly felt very foolish for imagining that anything would. She at first believed that perhaps it was a different copy of the same book, but as she inspected it Ellena realized that it was identical. Its top right corner was torn in the exact same place along with a mysterious brown dot that was present on the first page. Not to mention it had been handwritten and even the stroke of the letters looked the same.

“Okay,” she whispered. “So let’s pretend that this is the same book. What does that mean?” She clutched it tighter and took another drink of her wine. “Th
at man did something. He had to!”

She wasn’t sure how he had done it, but
Ellena knew he was behind this. Maybe he was trying to toy with her? She flipped the page and began to read. 

Le
Rouge Prince
was the title and it began like most fairy tales.

Once upon time there once was a
kind prince who fell madly in love with a beautiful young woman from a nearby village. The kind lord was known not only for his generous nature, but also for the red hunting cape he wore. The prince deeply adored the young woman, offering her not only his heart, but anything that she desired. Among one gift was a brilliant red riding hood, one that matched his own. But sadly the young lady fell for another, a prince who was not kind, but much wealthier and more handsome. She left to elope, leaving the kind prince and the red hood behind.

Ellena quickly shut the book. She looked at the
red hood flung across her bed as a thought crossed her mind. She impatiently reopened the book only to find that the rest of the pages were blank. Now, she was positive that this was a different book. The one in Lord Wolfe’s library had been full from cover to cover. She couldn’t help but laugh at her own silliness, but now a whole new nagging question gnawed away at her. Was Lord Wolfe a descendant of the prince in the story? She had to know what became of him. It was the writer in her. A good writer never left a story unfinished.

While the details were still fresh
in her mind, Ellena set to scribbling them down in her notebook, expressing her speculations not only about Lord Wolfe, but also
Madame
Danielle. How did she have the other red hood? Was she somehow a descendant of the prince or perhaps even the girl from the story? There was one person who could possibly know.

The litt
le bell above the bakery door rang again as Ellena walked inside. An elderly couple, completely enraptured with each other, sat in the far corner feeding each other glazed pastries and she couldn’t help but adore the loving scene.

“Back so soon?” Ansel was behind the counter, gently placing sweet cakes into the glass display case.

“I just can’t stay away,” Ellena smiled. “Are you busy?”

“Not terribly so. Why?”

“I just wanted to ask you a few more questions when you have a moment.”

“Of course,
I just need to finish this up.”

She took a sea
t by the window, looking out into the alley. More people were out and about on the streets today since the storm had finally passed. It wasn’t too long before Ansel joined her, bringing along with him two cups of coffee.

“
Un moment
,” he said, scurrying off again. This time he returned with a small pitcher of cream and cubed sugar. “I know you that you prefer to ruin good luxuries.”

“
Merci
,” she laughed.

“I take mine black,” he said as she reached for the sugar. “Now tell me. What did you want to ask me about?”

Ellena pulled out her notebook. “That story your grandmother told you, did you happen to remember anything else?”

He quizzical looked at her. “May I ask why?”

“I found something that may support her version, but it held very little information. Can you remember any more details? Perhaps the man’s name?”

“I’m afraid I told you everything I know. The only thing I can think of that I didn’t you tell you before was he lived not far from the village, out to the north I believe, in the forest.”

“You wouldn’t have been told what he looked like?”

“Looked like? All I know is that he was
supposed to have been strikingly handsome.”

A customer entered and Ansel excused himself as he stood. Before he walked away, Ansel stopped. “There is one other thing my great grandmother did mention. It was something about
sorcery.”

“
Sorcery?” Ellena asked.

“It’s not that surprising. Most fairy tales have magic in them, no?”

“What role did magic play?” Ellena leaned forward, barely able to withstand the anticipation. 

“I’m not sure, but I
have a feeling that you’re going to find out,” he said smiling.

Night was creeping closer. Ellena had sat, deep in thought, at Ansel’s bakery as she blankly stared into her fourth cup of coffee. She couldn’t help but think of Gregor,
Monsieur
Wolfe, and the great stone mansion. She knew of only one other place where she could possibly get to the bottom of this mysterious tale. Tomorrow Ellena would venture back into the northern forest.

   
     Chapter Seven

There it was, the forest edge. Ellena had come prepared this time with a backpack full of supplies and her cellphone. She stuffed the contraption into the pocket of her red coat and crossed into the woodland.

The poor
girl had barely slept a wink the night before as her excitement became too much to contain and as a result she had stayed up until nearly dawn writing. When daylight finally appeared, she packed her bag and left before even eating.

The forest was not nearly as foreboding has her last visit. The shadows dissolved as the sun rose and different animals scurried among the snow, some squirrels, some foxes as the birds sang in the treetops. A red cardinal swooped down and
quietly landed on the droopy remains of what Ellena could only guess had once been some sort of sticker bush.

“I’m beginning t
o suspect that you’re following me,” she said with a hint of playfulness. She wasn’t sure if it was the same cardinal as before, but it was still fun to pretend.

Ellena enjoyed
the little bird’s company as she pressed onward. She talked about her travels, her writings, her favorite colors and books. The cardinal seemed to be listening as it fluttered from branch to stone to root, following wherever she went. A few times it even chirped as if answering her questions.

She pulled her cellphone from her pocket to check the
time. Two hours had passed and still no sign of Lord Wolfe or his home. Ellena was beginning to grow nervous. It had not taken this long to return yesterday and hunger pains were hitting her fast.

Why had she not stopped to have breakfast befor
e leaving, Ellena berated herself. Whenever she became enthralled in something, she could do little else. It was the same with her books. Once she had not eaten for two days because she was so enraptured in a story that she was writing.

Without warning, h
er cellphone released a droll noise, flashing blue before completely going black. It had never done that before and Ellena set to work pressing the buttons, trying to turn it on and off. Finally resorting to the last possible action she could take, Ellena began to blatantly hit the broken device.