1Deep in the old green forest, where the oak trees grew so tall their tops brushed the clouds, there lived a girl everyone called Red. She wore a crimson wool cape her grandmother had sewn, and she never took it off, not even on warm mornings like this one.
2Red nodded, hoisted the basket onto her arm, and stepped into the forest.
3The path wound between mossy roots and patches of sunlight. Bluebells nodded on either side. Red hummed to herself, her dark braids swinging, her brown boots crunching quietly on fallen leaves.
4Red's fingers tightened on the basket handle. She remembered what her mother always told her: Do not share your plans with strangers. "Just walking," she said politely, and kept her feet moving.
5Red noticed his gaze. She noticed the shortcut, too, and she noticed how much faster he was already trotting down it.
6She did not follow. She stayed right on the wide, light-dappled path and walked even more steadily than before.
7But before Red could even lift the latch, she heard a soft sound from inside — a bolt sliding home with a firm click. Grandmother had already heard large paws on the garden stones and had locked her own door tight.
8The woodcutter emerged from the treeline, axe over one shoulder, and simply stood there in plain sight of the whole clearing. That was enough. The Wolf, who had only wanted an easy, unnoticed morning, found the clearing very crowded and very bright.
9He looked once at the woodcutter, once at Red standing calmly beside her basket, and then he turned and slipped back between the fir trees without a sound.
10"Come in, dear," said Grandmother. "I made room on the table for honey cakes." Red picked up her basket, straightened her crimson hood, and stepped inside, where the fire was warm and the elderflower tea was just about ready to pour.
