Hazel Hood

By H. L. Davis

I’m sure as a child you heard one of the many versions of “Little Red Riding Hood” that circulate the globe. While most of them do introduce three true characters in that event—a girl cloaked in red, a nefarious wolf, and a sick grandmother—none of the tales you’ve heard include me.

I’m Hazel, Hazel Hood. Red’s—or should I say, Ruby’s—younger sister. And after years of hearing what folk believe happened on that long-ago winter day, I’ve decided it’s finally time to set the record straight.

You see, growing up, no one listened to me. And that’s not too surprising. I’m mute. My voice has never worked, so it was easy for others to not take much notice of me.

Having a sister like Ruby didn’t help. With her flowing black locks, deep blue eyes, and flawless complexion, Ruby was always noticed. Especially by boys. Young men would come to our village from miles around just to glimpse her lovely face. But a glimpse was usually as far as things went, because while Ruby was undeniably beautiful, once you started to talk to her…

Well, you’ll see what I mean.

***

It was my fourteenth winter, and I stood in the snow with one mittened hand on my hip and the other gripping a basket filled with bread, cheese, wine, and cookies. My glare spoke for me. Come on, Ruby!

Ruby, of course, was carrying nothing, just standing and staring around the woods in that scarlet cloak she’d begged to have for her birthday. I was concerned the bright garment would draw unwanted attention from hungry beasts, but Ruby wasn’t the sensible sort, and, of course, I couldn’t explain my thoughts to her.

Her eyebrows scrunched in dismay. “I thought Granny might like some flowers to brighten her day, since she’s feeling above the weather. But I can’t see a thing.”

I wished I could retort, Under the weather. And it’s January. But considering that Mother had needed to remind Ruby yet again yesterday that winterberries are for admiring, not eating, perhaps it was best that flowers currently occupied her thoughts. Especially as there were still plenty of other dangerous things out here that could—

A large, shadowy figure leapt into our path.

A wolf!

I darted to Ruby’s side, hoping he wouldn’t attack the two of us together. The wolf considered us with black, gleaming eyes. Then, startlingly, he smiled.

“Ah! Two lovely young ladies out on a frigid midday walk, admiring the wonders of the wood. But what’s this—a basket! Do I smell… cookies?”

I reached slowly into the basket and gripped the neck of the wine bottle, in case I needed to smash it against the creature’s skull.

Ruby whispered loudly, “Should we tell him we’re going to Granny’s?”

Scratch that. Maybe I should break the bottle over Ruby’s head.

“Granny’s, eh? How delightful!” The creature smirked. “That wouldn’t be the little old lady who lives in the cottage just up the path, would it?”

“You know her!?”

I squeezed Ruby’s arm and fiercely shook my head, but she only graced the villain with her most winning smile. “Granny is above the weather today, so we’re delivering treats to cheer her up. I was just looking for flowers to bring her as well, but no luck yet.”

I couldn’t stop my eyeroll. The wolf noticed, and his grin widened. “Why, I saw some violets just over that hill. Quite lovely for this time of year. You could gather those—as long as your companion voices no objection.” The wolf gave me the faintest wink.

The beast!

“Thank you so much, Mr. Wolf!” Ruby crunched through the snow up the hill. I stomped along behind, casting multiple glances back to make sure the devilish creature wasn’t following us. But he’d already vanished.

***

Ten minutes later, Ruby mournfully gave up her search for flowers. “Someone else must have picked them all!”

I grabbed her arm and marched us straight to Granny’s, praying the cottage was locked. We were almost at the door when I realized it was partially open. I jerked to a stop, wracking my brain for what to do. The distant sound of someone chopping at a tree was dreadfully distracting.

Ruby’s cheeks were pink from the cold, brisk walk. “Really, Hazel! Granny’s not going anywhere.”

I hope not.

I peered through the front window, and my eyes widened. There was that dastardly wolf—in a nightcap!—slipping on one of Granny’s cotton nightgowns and climbing under her covers. My heart threatened to pound right out of my chest. Just then, I heard Ruby step into the cottage.

“Granny?” she called, sweet as pie. “It’s Ruby. We’ve brought treats!”

I gave a silent scream and looked again through the glass. Then I noticed Granny’s small, slippered feet sticking out from under the bed. I clenched my fists. There was only one thing left to do.

***

I turned away from the gruesome sight of the dead wolf on the bed. Some might believe the strike with Granny’s wood-chopping axe was a bit excessive, but after knocking him unconscious with the wine bottle, I couldn’t risk him waking in a vengeful rage.

Even pale from her faint and half-covered in wolf saliva, Ruby wouldn’t shut up. “Oh, Hazel! Hazel! You can’t imagine what a terrifying thing it is to be eaten by a wolf!”

I no longer had the energy to be annoyed. I gently pulled Granny out from under the bed. Thank goodness, she was still breathing. I sighed with relief and leaned my head back against the wall, waiting for her to wake.

“Poor Granny! Do you think she was eaten, too? I wonder who came and rescued us. Maybe the woodpecker we heard earlier?!”

Woodsman, not woodpecker. And no. This time, the hero is Hazel Hood.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H. L. Davis is a Christian, wife, and homeschool mom who calls the South home. She first discovered the joys of writing at ten years of age, and it is a craft she is delighted to pursue once again. When she isn’t brainstorming ideas and weaving words into stories, she enjoys reading, graphic design, and quality time with her family and friends.

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