E-Written: Red and the Wolfe

I was laughing with my sisters as we gossiped and baked, getting ready for the big village feast to celebrate Wintersnight. It was a tradition so old, my grandmother claimed her grandparents didn't know when it began, which seemed like an incredibly long time to me. This was the first year she wasn't going to be able to come into the village for Wintersnight and bless the feast. She was too old, she had said. Too sick.

No one else had wanted to take the time out of the celebration to bring her anything, so I had volunteered. It was only a half hour walk, I could be back before the real fun even began!

If we could just finish baking! My sisters didn't seem to understand the hurry I was in to go and get back!

"Check them again!" I called to Clara, the youngest of us who was standing near the oven.

"They aren't done, Red!" Melany teased.

My sisters all had lovely, honey blonde tresses, all done up in braid decked buns for the feast. Me? I had red hair so curly and snarled that it gave me no end of fits. They loved to tease me about it and rub it in that I was tall and awkward with horrible red hair, while they were all perfect little princesses. My father told me his mother had been tall as well, and had the same red hair, but she had died when he was only nine. All four of my sisters were my mother all over again at different ages. Even my younger sister, Clara, was stunning at only 16. Somehow, I had gotten left out of my mother's family blessing and got my father's curse instead. The only plus side of it was that I was his favorite.

There was a knock on the door and the upper panel of the french door was pushed open as Malcolm Decker leaned on the lower half of the door. "Good morning Miss Melany," he called to my sister. "You father sent me to pick up the carvings?"

"Yes!" Melany called, blushing beautifully. "They are in the front room, I will get them!" she called, scurrying away.

I rolled my eyes and stepped over to slam the upper panel closed on Malcolm. He laughed as he caught it. "Hey Red. Missed you at the races this morning. You didn't enter this year?"

"Ma wouldn't let me. Claims I am a lady now."

He laughed. "She knows that just because you are 18 now that you aren't going to change your stripes, right? Hey? Has your sister spoken of me?"

"If she had I would tell her what an ass you were!"

He chuckled again and leaned closer. "You know who is in the village today, don't you?"

"Everyone?" I answered, rolling my eyes again.

"Jeremiah. He asked after you when you were not there this morning."

I scowled. "I almost beat him last year! I was so close!"

"I remember. He remembers too. I think he remembers you... fondly."

"Jeremiah Wolfe?" I asked, turning to Malcolm in shock. "You are out of your mind!"

"Gods' truth! He asked after you. Even asked where your house was when Brantley said you wouldn't be coming anymore."

"He... he did?"

"He certainly did. Oh! Melany, those look heavy, let me!" Malcolm called as Melany came in with the two wood carvings their father had made as trophies for the evening's activities.

"Thank you," Melany smiled as he took them.

"Of course. I see you are baking... do you have any entries?"

"I do," she answered, blushing. "I have apple tarts. And Red has a spice cake!"

"You cook?" Malcolm asked me, screwing his face up in confusion.

I threw a handful of flour at him and both of us were laughing as he left.

"He is so beautiful," Melany sighed as she watched him leave.

I grunted, neither agreeing or disagreeing with her. Malcolm and I had been friends for ten years and this last year he had suddenly noticed Melany. Melany had noticed him too, but I didn't get it. They were so... different. She was so prim and proper and sweet and he was so boisterous and fun.

"Who is that?" Melany asked.

I peeked out and there was a man in the road, standing with his arms crossed, looking surly. Not a man... not really.

"Jeremiah Wolfe," I answered softly.

"One of the trappers from the woods? The Hunters?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah."

"Wait, isn't he the one who beats you every year in the races? Don't you hate him?"

"Yeah... umm, sort of. I guess," I answered, my stomach doing flip flops as I looked out at the man the boy became.

He was tall, he had always been tall, but he was taller even than me. By a whole head even. Most boys in the village were around my own height or shorter. His skin was sundark and his long hair black, like his eyes. He looked lithe... almost dangerous as he stood there, looking at the front of our house. As if he were considering knocking at the door.

"What do you think he wants?" Melany asked. "He is a little frightening. He might be handsome if he didn't scowl so. How tall do you imagine he is? Taller than Papa to be sure... What do you think he is doing? Do you think he wants to see Papa?"

"Oh, he is handsome," Linley whispered, peeking out. "And very very scary. Why is he so angry?"

"I wonder if he is here to see you, Melany?" Clara asked, poking her head out of the door to see.

Her movement caught his attention and he turned to see all of the girls at the backdoor looking out at him through the open panel of the french door. I was far enough back that I was sure he could not see me, but fear still spiked up in my belly and I clutched my stomach.

He moved closer and as he turned, his long hair that he had clipped back somehow, blew out in the wind. Long, fine, black as a raven's wing, it was longer than my own hair. Though, I wasn't entirely sure of that fact. If you stretched all of the curl out of my hair, it was much longer than it looked.

He stopped halfway as his eyes scanned the faces at the door, then lifted to my face, well passed them and deeper in the kitchen. Could he see me? Even as bright as it was out there and as dark as it was in here?

"I am looking for Kinley," he said softly.

"Do you mean Linley?" Clara asked in surprise. "She is promised, she'll be married this spring."

"Shut up!" Linley, my twin, hissed. She and I looked and acted nothing alike. Nothing at all to say we were twins save a birthday and names that rhymed. Not that anyone ever called me Kinley. Ever. I was Red. "Hi," Linley said more loudly. "I don't think we have met?"

Jeremiah hesitated, still looking past them to me. "Kinley?" he called.

"I am here," I answered, stepping up. "But no one here calls me that. You must have looked on last year's race roster to know that is my name."

He said nothing as he looked me over. He finally spoke. "You were not there this morning."

"No," I replied simply.

"Why not? Did you fear I would beat you again?"

"I know you would have... but that's not why."

"She's a woman now," Clara teased.

"Clara, go check the tarts," I snapped irritably.

"Were you ever not a woman?" Jeremiah asked curiously. "I had never thought you otherwise."

"Is there something you needed?" I asked, stepping out the door and pulling it shut behind me, trying to get rid of my audience. My stomach was turning somersaults.

"I wanted to ask you to attend the feast with me."

"I am already going to the feast? I go every year, with my family."

"I wanted you to go with me..." he said, looking a little confused. "Is that... is that not a thing that is done? Malcolm Decker said that if I wanted to..."

I smiled and waved a hand as I shook my head. "He was making sport. No. It is not a thing that is done. The feast is attended by families. A dance or something like that, then you ask a girl to go with you. Not Wintersnight feast."

"Why not?"

"It is an evening for family," I answered with a shrug, feeling my face going warm as I heard my sisters giggling.

He glanced at the door, then looked back down at me as he stepped closer. "When... when is the next dance?"

"Beltine?"

"Will you go to Beltine with me?"

I smiled, feeling my face heating more. "I will if you come around for it. I only see you on Wintersnight for Yule and Midsommer for the competitions, then a few times at Mabon for the harvest when you and your family bring meat."

"Why did you not compete today?" he asked again.

"She is!" Clara yelled. "She made a spice cake for the baking contest!"

I felt myself blushing again as my nostrils flared in anger at my little sister.

"Walk with me now," he said softly, glancing at the door again.

"I can't! That... that isn't appropriate. Anyway, I have an errand to run, I have to go down by the waterfall, to the cottage there."

"Cecily's?"

"You know my grandmother?"

"We all know the witch. We bring her offerings sometimes, things she needs."

"I am bringing her Wintersnight dinner since she isn't well."

"I will go with you."

"That wouldn't be appropriate... really."

"Why not?"

"It isn't done... a girl alone with a boy like that."

"I am a man and you are a woman?"

"It still isn't done. Look, Mr Wolfe..."

"Jeremiah. We have never truly met, though... you have called me a great many names. Most terrible."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Your fire was always admirable. You are very fast."

"For a girl."

"For anyone. Last year you almost beat me, I thought you might... but I could not let you. I pushed myself harder than I ever had. After I wondered if I should have let you... just so that you wouldn't hate me so much."

"I don't hate you!"

"I know. Let me walk with you."

"Really, I can't. It isn't appropriate."

"So tell no one."

I looked up at him in surprise. "But I would still know? You understand why it isn't done, right?"

"No," he said, frowning. "If you do not wish me to go, then say so. Or is it a jest, like Malcolm did? Are you toying with me?"

"No! No, I am serious."

"If Papa knew you'd even asked her, he'd carve you up like one of his prizes!" Clara called. "Boys and girls who aren't married or promised can't be alone together!"

"I saw you alone with Malcolm last year, after the races. You were down by the river, sitting alone and talking."

"But that's different! Malcolm... he is like a brother to me."

"Does he intend to marry you?"

"No! In fact, he likes my sister that way. We really are just best friends, we have been since I was small."

"Red, the basket is ready!" Melany called. "Hurry and go so you can be back for the feast! Do... Do I need to send for Papa to escort you out of the village?" she called, giving Jeremiah a frown.

"I need to go," I said softly. "I will see you tonight at the feast?"

He scowled, looking a little petulant like he was trying to determine if I were putting him off or lying to him. He finally spoke. "What is a spice cake and how is a winner determined?"

"Auction!" Clara called quickly. "Whoever's dessert gets bought at the highest price wins!"

"How will I know which is yours?"

I bit my lower lip, looking up at him. "You don't have to do that. I am not a good cook, my mother made me enter."

"How will I tell?" he persisted.

"You will know," I said breathlessly, then hurried to the door and grabbed the basket from Melany. I took off down the lane at a sprint, wanting to run out all of my nerves and thoughts fighting in my head.

Jeremiah Wolfe!

So little was known about his clan, only that they lived in the woods and hunted and trapped. They were standoffish and close-knit, only coming to town for festivals where there were prizes to be had. My father had always admired them, but most the townsfolk scorned them, saying they were little better than heathens. They didn't even worship the same gods, or any gods for that matter. They were more like Grandmother with her old magic.

All I had ever known was that Jeremiah Wolfe beat me in the races every single year and kept me from that red ribbon. I had a stack of yellow ribbons, but I had wanted the red.

I was out of breath when I ducked into the doorway at my grandmother's cottage, the house was small and made for her size, not a tall girl like me.

"Hello my Kin," she called in her raspy voice.

I grinned and went to her chair, taking a knee so she could kiss my head and bless me.

"All out of breath I see, still runnin wild. Ain't just that though, is it? What boy has been tappin' at your heart so? A new one. An old one. How's it both then?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Stop readin' me! Here! There's tarts and bread and Ma made mince pie!"

"Ain't even stayin' for some tea then? I'll be needin' a name for this boy now," her grandmother chided.

I laughed again and pulled my hand away when she reached for it. "No! He is no one just now. He just surprised me is all."

"You come give your grandmother a hug!" she teased.

I hugged her quickly and kissed her cheek, then started to pull away.

She caught my wrist in a vice grip, her smile sliding away as her eyes went white into her seer's visage. I froze. I had only seen her do it once and it had scared me then too. She couldn't control it when she slipped away like this and it never ended in good news.

The white faded and her eyes unclouded as she slumped and released my wrist.

"Grandmother?" I cried as her whole body slumped.

"Bed," she wheezed.

She was small, tiny and frail like my mother and sisters so she was easy for me to lift and put into her bed. "Should I get Gertrude?" I asked fearfully.

"Rest is all," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Be careful of the black wolf, Kin."

"What?" I asked in surprise, but she was out. Fast asleep.

I was torn. Should I stay? Go home and get Gertrude and come back? Go? There was nothing I could do here, nothing at all and Grandmother hated anyone being here while she was sleeping. Too many dangerous things about for the ignorant to be messing in. I wished my oldest sister Anette was home. She was studying under Grandmother to be the next witch of the cottage. Just now she was on her spirit journey and wouldn't return until Grandmother's spirit came to her and told her to. After she had died. I didn't understand all of it, but that was all my mother's bloodline. I hadn't inherited any of their arcana at all and I didn't try to understand what it was all about. What I did know was that Grandmother loved me and when we visited with each other, it was about fun and frivolous happy things and never dark things. That was why I was the one who liked visiting her.

I set the basket up near her bed, then left quietly, slipping out and easing the door shut. I turned and was surprised to see Jeremiah Wolfe squatting on his heels and drawing something in the ground with an arced stick.

I approached him slowly, looking at what he was drawing. It was some sort of looping design, a sigil as I had come to recognize from Anette's studies.

I had meant to ask why he followed me, instead, I blurted out, "You know witchcraft?"

He stood, looking down at me as he did. "It is for safety. Something is doing this to her. Making her ill. Trying to leave the woods defenseless. That will keep her until weeks end."

"What do you mean, something? Not someone?"

"Something. I do not know."

"Why did you come out here? She told me to watch out for you by the way."

"The woods are not as they once were. Come," he said softly, gesturing for me to walk with him.

"I told you we couldn't be alone together."

"Why does it matter?"

"People will talk?"

"What people?"

"Everyone! The whole village!"

"Do they not already talk?"

"They will gossip about us. Say things that aren't true."

"Why?"

I growled in frustration. "Let's just hurry? I want to have Gertrude come out here."

"She will not. The witch told her last time not to come again."

"How do you know that?"

He didn't answer as he hurried her along the path.

"I asked how you knew that!" I repeated.

"I heard you," he answered.

"So how?"

He said nothing and I threw up my hands again. I took off at a run and in seconds, he was next to me, running as well.

I smiled and took off at a sprint and he stayed with me, his hair streaming behind him like a black banner. It was actually stunning to look at, so stunning that I stared and stumbled, then went careening down the steep bank next to the path and fell, rolling to a stop in a pile of fall leaves.

I laid there painting and staring up at the sky and treetops, then broke out laughing in embarrassment. His face appeared, blocking the sky and he offered a hand. I took it and he pulled me up, as I laughed. I was an idiot! And now I was covered in dried, broken leaves. So many my hair crunched when I turned my head.

I trekked back to the path, brushing leaves off of me and picking them out of my hair. Jeremiah joined me, pulling leaves out of my curls as we walked and I felt both silly and a little more comfortable with him now. What could I possibly do to embarrass myself more? I had already done it, it was out of the way.

Once we were almost back, he finally spoke again. "You aren't as fast as you used to be."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I think it's those," he said, gesturing to my breasts.

I crossed my arms quickly, blushing furiously. "You can't...! You can't mention those! Or... anything!"

"Why not? They were not so much last year, they did not impede you or... bounce so much."

"You can't say those kinds of things!" I hissed, looking around in shock, hoping no one was close enough to hear.

"But it's true," he said, confused. "Don't be upset? They are nice to look at."

"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! It's RUDE to say things like that! Crass and so... wrong! You don't talk to girls that way!" I said angrily.

He scowled, drawing back. "I said they were nice to look at. That is a compliment."

"No! Saying my brown eyes are pretty is a compliment. You don't comment on a woman's... womanly parts!"

He looked away, still scowling. "You do have nice eyes. And your hair... it is softer than I imagined it would be. And your legs when you run... I like how pale they..."

"No! No, you can't say that! See, that is being rude."

"Why?"

"It just is!"

"You villagers are strange. I cannot read, Kinley."

"What? Why...? Why did you tell me that?"

"I did not want you to assume a lie. You thought I read your name from the lists. I heard the witch say your name. I do not read. Not what the villagers write."

"I see. I wasn't really thinking about it and I wouldn't have assumed you were lying to me just by not telling me..." I said, still confused.

"So if you write your name on the cake, I will not know if it is yours."

OH!

"It isn't allowed, to put a name on it. Don't worry though. You will know," I said softly as we neared my house. "Thanks for coming."

I hurried in before he could say anything else or my sisters might see. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I leaned on it and the butterflies came back, fluttering more and more as I suppressed a smile.

Jeremiah Wolfe... liked me! Not one of my sisters. Me!

"What's wrong with you?" Clara asked, pausing as she walked through.

"I... Umm. Nothing. Grandmother... she went into a seer's transe and fell asleep. I was worried is all. Is that what you are wearing? Isn't that Anette's old festival dress? What happened to yours?"

"Linley burned a hole in it on accident," she said with a scowl, flipping the loose white dress angrily. "It's this or I can't sit at the Maiden table."

"Do you really want to? I know it's for the youngest girl in each family, but most girls stop as soon as they are old enough to sit at the family table."

"Lissa is still sitting at the Maiden table! She said she will until she is promised because it's ladylike and has to do with how pure she is for her husband and not just that she is the youngest girl."

"That's ridiculous. I don't know why you like her so much, all of the Alcotts are so stuck up and snobbish."

"You just don't know them and how would you know anyway? There are none your age!"