Gold Hood

In life, there are certain things that become increasingly apparent as time passes. One of those things is that Anahid had no interest in most things the other girls did in the village. New, fancy dresses would only get dirtied as she ran through the dirt and mud. Boys were just wrestling partners. Gossip and rumors were just boring stories that ended the same way. Anahid was interested in one thing and one thing only.

Running.

From dawn until noon, she would be up and about, rushing all through the town as she delivered the still warm pastries from her mother’s bakery. Then, after she was done, she would run through the woods, racing the wind, and rushing through the brush. To Anahid, running was the only thing closest to flying through the skies. Running was the only thing that made her feel like she wasn’t an outcast…a freak.

So, Anahid’s day started normal for her. As the sun crept up from beyond the horizon, bathing the land in bright gold as the air chilled to welcome the autumn, she slowly opened her eyes, yawning. Wiping the dribble from her lips, she could hear the clanking and shuffling in the front of her house/bakery. Her mother was always up before she was, prepping for the daily influx of customers who would demand bread and cakes for their own families. “Goldie! Wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Grumbling, the young girl hopped from her bed and over to the water bowl on her simple wood dresser. After splashing and washing her face, she glanced in the mirror and sighed. Other girls had blonde or brunette curls or perhaps those rare red or black tresses…Anahid was the only one in the village with silver hair. So thick and curly, it resembled fur more than it did actual hair. And no matter what she, her mother, or the town barber did, the hair would continue to grow longer and longer until it reached the small of her back. “Anahid!” Jumping, Anahid looked at the time.

“Coming,” she pulled her hair forward, twisting it into two braids before she pulled off her nightgown and slipping into her usual wool skirt and blouse. Grabbing her favorite gold colored riding hood with white fur edges, she pulled on her socks and boots before hurrying out the door before her mother could call out a third time. Normally a third time meant a lecture. Sliding into the kitchen, she piped up, “I’m up! I’m up!”

“Finally, she wakes! You’d think you were cursed with eternal sleep with how hard it is to wake you,” her mother teased, as she gestured to the table without looking at Anahid. A basket full of biscuits, wine, and cheese sat next to a bowl of porridge. She stuck her tongue out at her playfully. “If that tongue is out, I’ll put bitter melon on it.” Quickly, Anahid stuck it back in and adopted an innocent look when her mother, Rohana, glanced at her. Rolling her eyes, Rohana hurried her to the little wooden table in the corner. “Hurry up now, you’ll be late at this rate.”

“Mama, I’m never late.” She sat at the table and dug into the cooling porridge as her mother made herself a bowl. Like always, Rohana insisted on eating each meal with her, even when she was incredibly busy. Anahid admired that about her mother, wondering how she found the time in the day to do all the things she needed to do. The sun glimmered onto the table through the window and Anahid took some time to study her. Despite being the mother to a sixteen-year-old girl, Rohana looked as young and beautiful as a young girl herself. Her fair face with peach cheeks and beautiful blue eyes entranced men to her and Anahid often wondered why she did not get her mother’s rich, chocolate brown hair. Wondrous and graceful, it was no surprise that many men in the village harbored some feeling towards Rohana, the famous Little Red Riding Hood.

It was a surprise to know that the overly energetic, stubborn girl with unruly and strange silver hair, Anahid, was her daughter and that she had raised her on her own. “Mama, can I ask you something?” Rohana looked up from her accounting ledger, surprised. Anahid was not a morning person, after all.

“Yes? What’s wrong, Goldie?” She took in a deep breath. This question had been burning her for months now and today was the day she would ask it. After all…

“You know…it’s my birthday in a week…right?” Rohana chuckled and smiled.

“Well, of course, I was there after all. I believe you are…” she pretended to think, a faint smile on her lips, “three…? This year?”

“Ha-ha, Ma, funny.” It was the same joke each year, but it never failed to bring a smile to Anahid’s lips. “I was actually hoping for my birthday…you’d answer a question for me?” Now her mother looked confused.

“You want an answer…for your birthday? Are you sure not a cake or maybe…some new running shoes or…?” She shook her head, her braids flipping back and forth. “Oh…okay then…what did you want to know?”

“…What happened to my father?” Rohana stiffened, her eyes wide.

“Your…father…?” Nodding her head, Anahid continued.

“You raised me all on your own, but…you’ve never talked about him and…I just want to know…who was he? What was he like? What happened?” At the sight of her mother’s face draining of color, Anahid feared the worst. “Di…did he not…want me?” Rohana shot up.

“Of course, he did! He wanted nothing more than…” her mouth clamped shut. “…Anahid, this question is…its not the right time to talk about it.” Anahid felt her heart drop.

“Then when is the right time? I’m almost sixteen, Mama! I just want to know something! What was his name, at least?” Rohana began clearing her bowl.

“Anahid, this conversation is over.”

“But Ma- “

“That is enough!” Rohana snapped, leveling her with a look. Anahid didn’t want to cry, but she felt the tears well up. Sighing, her mother softened her tone. “…I know you want to know, but…I can’t tell you this…not now…” Rohana huffed, “…Can you go take that basket to Granny? She’s been sick again.” Without another word, Anahid stood up and stormed out, snatching the basket from its place at the table. Rohana reached out, wanting to stop her from going…wanting to hold her daughter and tell her everything. But she couldn’t…because she never knew when someone was listening…Sighing, she reached for her neck and pulled the necklace out from under her blouse. Attached to the worn leather strap hung a wolf’s fang, dim with age. “…I wish she could see you…just once.” Rohana groaned and tucked the necklace back into it’s hiding spot before she cleaned up the rest of the table and began her day.

The wind rushing by her ears was the best feeling in the world, especially when she felt like she was up against the world. Was it so bad to give her just a little bit of information on the man? She saw families with fathers and mothers and siblings, and she wondered what that must be like? To have more than just two in the house and to hear it fill with noise and laughter? To have someone to vent to when her mother was too overbearing or to rely on when she felt like she couldn’t talk to her? And, more than anything, Anahid just wanted to know why they were left alone?

It wasn’t a secret that Rohana was never married. She had gotten plenty of offers, even now. But Rohana was never once married or even engaged. So, when Anahid was born, why didn’t her father marry her mother? Anahid slowed down and fell to her knees, panting as she looked around. She had made it just to the edge of the village, where the farmers and blacksmiths tilled the land and sharpened their tools. She could hear the content calls of livestock as they grazed and the sharp pounding of an anvil against metal. She walked down the path, headed towards Granny’s house as she thought about her failed attempt to learn more about her father.

“Goldie! Hey! Goldie!” The quicksilver haired girl turned to see two boys running up to her. She broke out in a grin as her two closest friends got closer.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Silas and Avery Sherwood were the only two in the whole village that didn’t look at Anahid with either pity or condescension because of her being a father-less child. They were born just a few months before she was, and they often spent their childhood playing together while her mother watched from afar. Even now, they spent more time together than ever, even if some adults thought it was improper for a young lady to spend so much time with two boys.

“Happy birthday, look what I gotcha!” Silas tossed her a bracelet. As pale as her hair, the chain dangled with a tiny silver teardrop shaped gemstone. “I saved up all summer for it.” Anahid had never owned something so gorgeous before. She was always afraid of ruining things like this. She gave him a bright grin.

“Thanks, Silas,” the boy coughed awkwardly as he looked away, “but my birthday isn’t for a week.” Avery, his younger twin, scoffed and crossed his arms.

“He wanted to give it to you now. Our pop is going to take us hunting every day, starting tomorrow.” Avery looked like he wanted to die when he said that. The young man was more interested in visiting the library and staying indoors studying then hunting, like Silas or his father, Richard. Just his luck that he was also best friends with a highly active Anahid, who had a habit of dragging him outside as well. “So, we figured it was best to give it to you today,” Avery flushed, “my gift isn’t ready…so don’t think I didn’t get you one too.” Anahid snickered.

“I can’t wait.” Silas looked at the basket and suddenly brightened up, so she hid it behind her. “Don’t even think about it. This is for Granny.” Groaning, Silas pouted.

“Seriously? But your ma’s cheddar biscuits are the best and she never makes them when I ask.”

“Maybe if you tried asking politely, she would.”

“I do!” The two boys walked along side her as Anahid continued her way down the path, “besides, why does Granny get special delivery down here? Everyone else has to go to the bakery themselves if they live on the farmland.” She shrugged, never really giving it much thought.

“Because she’s family, of course. Besides, Granny can’t walk that far anyway.” Avery hummed.

“Then she should move back to the village, then. Why move all the way out here?” Before Anahid could respond, Silas piped up.

“It’s ‘cause she’s a crabby old hag, that’s why.” Anahid swiped her hand at his arm, which he dodged. “What? I’m right! Everyone says so.”

“Yeah, but you don’t get to.” Silas, though rude, was right. Granny wasn’t the sweet natured, gentle old lady who baked cookies and told stories to little children on her knee. She rarely smiled and often hated having anyone over, even if it was her great granddaughter. But Anahid was used to that about her and she was always the one who stuck up for them when times were tough. “She just likes her peace and quiet, that’s all.”

“No, she’s bitter and mean and probably eats puppies.” Again, he was slapped on the arm.

“You’re just saying that because she hit you with a broom a few months ago for going into her garden,” this comment earned Avery an argument with his brother, which Anahid ignored as they got closer.

“You know, if she sees you two, she’s going to hit you both with her broom.” The twins froze, color draining from their face at the thought of upsetting Granny. She may not be able to walk all the way into town on her own, but she could still make a mean swing with her infamous broom. The Sherwood twins knew this fact very well.

“Oh, uh! Hey, Pa’s having a big party in the plaza tonight. You gonna be there?” Anahid shrugged. She might come, but her mother would say no. Rohana could not stand Richard Sherwood and made that noticeably clear. It was a mystery as to why to all, since he was the one who saved her from the Wolf when she was young.

“I’ll try and pop by for a bit. Ma won’t though, so don’t bother asking her.” Avery sighed.

“Pop’s going to ask anyway, you know how he is with her…” Richard’s very public love for Rohana was not a secret either. Even with their own children now there, Richard did his best to win Rohana over. He suddenly cleared his throat, “anyways, we’ll see you there, Goldie. Bring an appetite. It’s gonna be pork.” Goldie waved as the two rushed off where they had come from, bickering loudly. “I asked, so I’ll sit with her!”

“No way! I’m closer- “their voices slowly got quieter as she watched them, wondering why they were so confused over whose gonna sit next to her. She’s just going to sit between them like always. Shrugging and grateful for the distraction from her thoughts, Anahid stopped when she came to a lone cottage. There was no other farm for a few miles and the only other sign of life were the three chickens that clucked around near the small well. A vegetable garden sat, recently weeded, and watered, behind the cottage with a large apple tree. The cobblestone path was due for a sweep, but there sat a rocking chair that was well used. Soft, ashy smoke puffed out of the chimney into the autumn air. This cottage was surrounded by a wooden gate, blocking off the world to the inhabitant. Though, Anahid knew, she would rather be nestled deep within the woods, away from all the other people of the village. Opening the gate, she hurried inside and closed it, shooing the chickens as they came up to greet her.

“Granny! You there?” Anahid hurried up the path and knocked on the door. A raspy, irritated voice responded immediately.

“Go away! Git off my property!” Anahid smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Granny, it’s me!”

“I dun know an Isme! Git outta here!” Anahid opened the door and poked her head inside. The old woman sat in her bed, glowering at her. “Oh, it’s you…well, git in here then, yeh brat! You’ll let the cold air in!” Gruffly, the woman nestled back down to bed, grumbling as Anahid came inside. The place sat unchanged, the same as it had been all the years Anahid had been alive. A small cottage with a bed in one corner, a fireplace and chimney for cooking meals, and a small dining table. The walls were adorned with shelves and nick knacks that she used to admire for hours when she was little. A small nightstand with an oil lamp and a few books sat next to Granny’s favorite chair. “What’re ye botherin’ me for, brat? Can’t ye see I’m tired?”

Granny was never sweet, but she did soften some for Anahid. Anahid sat at the bed, “I brought you some food, Granny. Mama said you were sick.” Granny scoffed.

“That meddlesome brat wouldn’t know sick if it bit her in the bum. I’ve just got a few sniffles.” The old woman closed her dim eyes as if the whole world were just aggravating her while all she wanted to do was sleep. She had aged increasingly through the years, growing weaker as time passed. But she refused to acknowledge it. As far as Granny was concerned, she was as strong as a woman in her late twenties. Ignoring Granny’s quip, Anahid reached in the basket. “Oh, yer just rustlin’ through my things now. Just like yer pa, little brat.” She froze.

“Granny…you knew my father?” Granny blinked as if she just realized what she had said. Then she huffed.

“Of course, I did, ye daft brat! I ain’t that far gone yet.” She gestured to the dining table. “Just put it there for now.” Anahid knew to just do what Granny said before asking anything else. Plopping the basket onto the dining table, she hurried back to Granny’s bedside and sat right back down. “Oi! Easy! I swear, ye got more of ‘im in ye than yer mum.”

“What was he like, Granny? Who was he?”

“That’s a question ye should be asking yer ma.” Anahid deflated and pouted.

“But Granny…she won’t tell me.” The old woman sighed and reached a mangled hand up to pat her head. “…did he really just…not want me?”

Giving Anahid’s braid a sharp tug, Granny hmphed, “yer pa would have fought tooth and nail to be with ye, don’t ye dare doubt that.” Settling back into her bed, she snarled, “don’t worry about it right now…how old are ye again?” Sighing, Anahid reminded Granny of her sixteenth birthday coming up in a week. No use trying to get Granny to say more. She was twice as stubborn as her mother. “Right. It’s about time I give this to ye then.” Granny sat up and pulled the covers up.

“Granny, I can get- “

“Don’t try me, brat! I’m not dead yet!” Grabbing the cane nearby, Granny huddled over to the back door to her vegetable garden. Anahid followed behind, wondering what Granny could have to give to her in the garden. The old woman opened the door and made a beeline to the apple tree. “Grab that hoe near the window, brat! The dirt’s hardened over here.” Anahid followed with the hoe.

Lowering to her knees, Granny held her hand out for the hoe and began to dig with it. Anahid sank beside her and began digging with her hands, curiosity overtaking her as the dirt gave way. Buried amongst the roots was an old wooden box, worn and dirty with what looked like a circular symbol carved into the top. However, the circle was not complete, tapping off to a point before it could meet the start. Granny pulled it from the hole and sat it between them, hurrying to cover the hole without another word. Anahid stared at the box, something tingling in her mind as she gazed upon the symbol.

It was like she had seen the box before.

Granny put the box in her hands. “This box…contains something from yer father, Anahid…but make sure it never leaves yer sight. If it were ever to get into the wrong hands…” Granny’s voice trailed off. “It won’t be long before ye learn about yer pa, Child…but it won’t be easy either.” Anahid gulped.

What could be so secretive about her father? What could Granny mean? She wanted to ask these questions and more, but Granny, quicker than Anahid had ever seen her move before, had already gotten up and moved back to the cottage.

________________________________________

A shot rang out and he felt pain pierce through his leg like the fang of a bear, hungry for his flesh. A startled yelp rang out. Oh wait, that was him. As he struggled to move faster, his heart pounding, the young wolf thought back to why he had gotten into this predicament. Normally, around this time, he would be with his family, hunting and communing with his woodland home beyond the river, getting ready for a snowy winter like always. He would play with the younger Lycans and chat happily with the expecting women of his pack, wondering when their unborn children would arrive in the winter. He would be bickering with his twin sister about whose turn was it to cook dinner and whose was it to clean the den. He would be perfectly happy and safe within their woods.

But not this year, as there was now a crisis. The animals that they depended on to survive the winter were being hunted and not by his pack. They had checked the usual suspects like bears and rival packs, but their borders had not been crossed and the bears were already beginning to get ready for their annual slumber. The alpha finally decreed that it was time to investigate the humans, an idea that sent shockwaves through the pack. They hadn’t spoken nor seen the humans in the nearby villages for over a decade now, hidden away in the Cursed Woods and far from the unfeeling chill of human selfishness and destruction. How could a whole squad of Lycan investigate this issue without the humans hunting them down like dogs?

Which is when the alpha asked for one Lycan to go, a single mission where they would simply observe and report back. Are the humans crossing over into their land? How many and how often do they come? And can anything be done to stop them from coming?

This request was met with mixed reactions. All Lycans lived and breathed for their pack, to protect and provide for each member, no matter how low their rank. But none wanted to go near the humans that had persecuted them in ancient times and driven them to the brink of extinction. So, with no one ready to leave the safety of the Cursed Wood, he stood up and volunteered. It made sense; he had argued. He was the fastest out of all of them, he could easily hide and watch. His senses were sharper, and he could sneak by any sentry, so why not send him to spy on the humans? If there was one thing he knew, the young wolf knew that he was willing to go to Hell and back if it meant his pack would survive.

This was why he felt like he was burning in Hell when he was caught by surprise by a hidden trap in the woods. It had sprung on the rabbit he was chasing for dinner and, with a shout, two humans, male and older, hopped out. They had stood in stunned silence before their faces turned ashen at the sight of him. Standing nose to nose, staring into their beady eyes with his own, pulsing bright gold orbs. His breathe hissed out as he stood, acting like a predator caught in a stalking position. Suddenly, one of them swore and shouldered their hunting rifle, aiming for the space between his eyes. Quicker than he had ever moved, the young wolf crouched, ducking as the bullet whizzed overhead, right where his forehead had once been. The resounding crack as it hit the tree behind him was his signal to run and run fast.

Spinning, he had taken off, leaves and dirt blown behind him as he sprinted away hoping, praying, to get as far from the hunters as possible. It worked for a while; he would lose them for a moment before it seemed like they caught up. He did not know these woods. It would take him a few days before he truly got used to them, but these hunters had been in these woods for most of their lives. They knew each nook and cranny of these woods.

Running, running faster and harder than he had done in a long time, another shot screamed through the air and this time met its mark. His leg gave way as the skin tore and blood vessels burst. He tumbled to the ground with a shriek, whining like a pup. If his sister would have heard, she’d laugh at him. He grimaced. No, even she could not find the strength to tease him in this type of situation. “This way! I think I hit it!” Their footsteps were getting closer.

He had to get away, get somewhere safe to hide while he licked his wound. Struggling to his feet, he kept his left back paw up as he hobbled into the brush, looking frantically around to see if there was anything, anywhere that he could hide. The blood in his footsteps might give him away if he didn’t think of something. The woods always provided for his kind, even if it didn’t know him yet. There must be something.

There! Fallen from the tree branches lay a sizeable stick. It was about the size of a young man’s forearm. He quickly picked it up in his maw and thrust his head the opposite direction. A loud crack and the woods were silent as he huddled into the brush.

“I think it went this way!”

“We got ‘im now!” The hunters began to grow quieter and farther away. The young wolf now, safely camouflaged by the reds and golds of the bush’s autumn leaves, felt relieved. He was safe at last, but now injured. It would take him days to return to the pack and he hadn’t even begun his mission yet. Panting, he waited until the moon was nearing its highest point in the sky before he crawled out of his hiding spot and back into the open. By now, the hunters would have returned to their homes, unable to navigate the dark forest like he could. This was the perfect time to find a temporary den to sleep and rest. As he had waited, he had licked his injured leg, thankful that the wound was superficial and would heal within less than a day if he were careful. Walking far from the forest path and through the trees, the wolf decided at once. He would be more careful and start his mission tomorrow.

After all, he thought bitterly, now the humans were aware that he was here. It would not be an easy task to do anymore.