Seeing Red

In the forest, there’s a fine line between hunter and hunted. Claret Pangati is content with her quiet life in the village of Woodside—baking bread, visiting her grandmother beyond the forest, and avoiding anything resembling danger. But when a series of brutal attacks shatter the calm, a stranger arrives with secrets of his own. Sheriff Hunter Tavish is handsome, mysterious, and far too interested in the dark history that runs through the woods—and through Claret’s bloodline. As the forest’s secrets unravel, Claret finds herself at the heart of a story older than she ever imagined. One with a red cloak, a hungry predator, and a girl who may not be as innocent as the tale suggests. A dark and atmospheric retelling of Little Red Riding Hood—where the line between hunter and hunted blurs with every heartbeat.

"Claret? Claret, dear, can you come here and mind the shop for a bit?" I stopped mid-sneak and sighed. Turning on my heel, I called out, "Sure thing, Mama. I'll be right there." The interior door that separated our home from the bakeshop clicked shut. I cast a longing look at the gorgeous day framed in the window, then trudged away. Really, it was my own fault. I had just been about to slip out the back door that served as the primary entrance for our private home, but as I reached up to take my red cloak from its peg by the door, I had gotten lost thinking about the time my beloved grandmother had gifted it to me. I don't know why. I had worn this cloak countless times, and usually didn't reminisce on its history. But today, for some reason, thoughts of the past had snuck into my mind and distracted me from leaving. Sighing, I hurried down the hallway, towards the front of the building and our bakeshop. Grabbing a plain linen apron from where it hung, I pushed through it and entered the family bakery. It may have been Daypito, the traditional day of rest, but the inside of the shop looked anything but restful. The counter was swarmed with impatient customers, with many more crowded behind them. My poor mother rushed around, her stress palpable. "Claret, I'm so glad you're here. If you could fill some orders while I check on the ovens …" "Go, go." I shooed her away. The next few hours passed by in a blur of taking orders, fetching items, getting payment. And then, repeat and repeat and repeat. Mama ran in and out of the bakeshop, refilling various food trays before going away to bake more. Through the two large windows up front, I could see the store's wooden sign, "Rowena's Bakeshop," hanging outside. As time wore on, I eyed the light outside. The day was going by fast, but hopefully there would be a break in customers soon and I would be able to leave. Finally, the crowd thinned. Mama came through the door, holding yet another tray of bread. "This should be the last of it," she told me, placing the tray down on the counter. "Whatever we have out is it for the day." "Oh, good," I said. "Do you still need my help? Otherwise, I'm going to head out." Mama frowned. "Head out? Where?" I sighed as I started to undo the strings of my apron. "It's Daypito. My day to visit Lola Cerise." Mama's frown deepened. "It's been so busy, I forgot." She paused. "I guess we'll be closing soon, though." "You don't really need me anymore, then, right?" I prodded. "Honestly, Claret, I would prefer it if you didn't go over there every week. I know she's your grandmother, but the stories she tells … I'm just glad you're old enough to have discernment." "Oh, Mama. You know they're harmless—" The bell over the bakeshop door rang out, signaling the arrival of a new customer. I stepped back from the counter, hoping I could slip away. But I was trapped, with Mama on my right and the bakery wall to my left. I gave an annoyed sigh. "We're closed!" Mama hissed, "Claret!" But I was beyond caring. I wanted to get to Lola Cerise's. "I mean, we are still technically open, but what's left is it. No more special orders to—" My voice trailed away as I looked up into the most hypnotizing pair of green eyes I had ever seen. The owner of said green eyes startled. "Uh, hello. I hope I have the right place." He glanced around, then turned to look out the window and peer at the sign. "This is Rowena's Bakeshop, correct?" "Yes it is, young man," my mother said, nudging me slightly so she could address the newcomer squarely. "Forgive the confusion. How can I help you?" "Oh." He cleared his throat and eyed me sidelong. Belatedly, I smoothed my face into … well, if not a welcoming expression, at least something more neutral. "Mayor Marley wanted me to give you this." He plunked a piece of paper down on the counter. Mama picked it up and carefully looked it over. Her eyes widened. "Oh my goodness! He wants how many pastries in two weeks?" The young man shrugged, brushing back a strand of dark hair that fell in his face. "I didn't read the message, madam. I'm just the messenger." I narrowed my eyes at him. "I've never seen you before. Are you really the mayor's messenger? Or his secretary, perhaps?" "Neither. I'm the new sheriff, just arrived in Woodside this morning." He extended a hand. "Hunter Tavish." I gaped. "But you're so young!" Our last two sheriffs had been much older, the prior one around my Mama's age, and the one before him closer to Lola Cerise's age. The man laughed, rich and melodious. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for that, Miss …?" When I still didn't make a move, Mama swooped in. Taking Sheriff Tavish's hand, she gave it a firm shake. "Well met, sheriff. I'm Rowena Pangati, and this is my daughter, Claret." "A pleasure, Madam Pangati." He looked at me, eyes twinkling. "And Miss Claret." I nodded stiffly, just barely polite. Goodness, how much deeper could my embarrassment get? "I'm glad I was able to get the mayor's order to you before you closed for the day," Sheriff Tavish said. "Yes," Mama said, looking over the note again. "My goodness. Between this weekend's festival and now this order, I'll be working overtime. If I'm going to get everything done on time, I should probably start right away." She began muttering to herself. "I'll need to check my stock. Do I have enough flour? And other supplies …" "I'll stay and help you, Mama," I said, resigning myself to forgoing the visit to Lola Cerise. Mama waved away my half-hearted offer. "No, no. You go on and see your lola. Don't forget to bring the basket with you." "Where does your grandmother live?" Sheriff Tavish inquired politely. "Past the forest, in the next town over. Cedarbrook." Was it my imagination, or did the sheriff suddenly stiffen? "Oh. I'd be happy to escort you, if you like." "Thank you, but I really don't need—" "What a lovely idea!" Mama interrupted. "If it's not too much trouble, Sheriff Tavish—" "It's not." "—Then I would feel much better if you accompanied Claret. Really, that's just wonderful." Glad Mama thought so. I had been looking forward to a quiet walk—by myself—to my grandmother's. After the flurry of customers, I just needed some silence to decompress. It didn't look like I'd get my wish. Although the new sheriff was terribly handsome, and he seemed nice enough. As walking companions went, he wasn't a bad choice. Not wanting to waste any more of the day, I sighed and pasted what I hoped was a grateful smile on my face. "Again, I thank you, sheriff. Let me hang up my apron and get my things, and I'll meet you out front." Sheriff Tavish nodded. "I'll be waiting. Good day, Madam Pangati." He left the shop, the overhead bell ringing decisively in his wake. "Go on," Mama said. "Don't keep the new sheriff waiting." "First you didn't want me to go, now you do?" I grumbled as I removed my apron. "Make up your mind." Mama clarified, "I didn't want you to go by yourself. Not that I can stop you anyway." She added under her breath, "So stubborn, like some other women in this family." Then, in a louder voice, "Now that you have that handsome young man to accompany you, I'm not so worried." I'd be just fine on my own, I thought, but I knew better than to say that aloud. Ever since the mayor's notice about the attacks in Littlewood Forest had been posted around town two months ago, Mama had, understandably, fretted about my weekly visit to Lola Cerise's. I had even stopped visiting my grandmother for a little bit, just to appease my mother. But I missed my grandmother, so eventually I pushed to start visiting her again. And when I had made several trips into the forest and returned home unscathed each time, Mama had relaxed. Somewhat. Mama locked the shop door. "Go out the back, honey. Send my love to your lola. And don't forget the basket!" "I will! And I won't!" I promised. I pushed through the door that separated the bakeshop from our private residence, grabbing the basket from the counter and hanging up my linen apron. I continued through the house. Before I exited out the back door, I made sure to grab my red cape, hurriedly throwing it around my body and tying the strings at my neck. Rounding the house, I walked towards the front, where Sheriff Tavish waited at the bakery entrance. Seeing me approach, he stood straighter. "Oh, Miss Claret! I didn't expect you to come from that direction." There was a slight question in his voice. "Shall we?" At his nod, I began walking. Sheriff Tavish fell into step beside me. "Mama would prefer we use the front entrance only for the bakeshop. Anything personal, we use the back door. It's just a way to keep business stuff separate." "That makes sense." He eyed my cloak appreciatively. "That's a beautiful cape. It's certainly eye-catching." "Thank you." I beamed. "My Lola Cerise—my grandmother—made it for me, some time ago. I always wear it when I visit her." "It's very fine craftsmanship. And what a lovely red color." His eyes twinkled. "For some, it's a lucky color, too." "I don't know if it's brought me any luck," I shrugged. "But it makes me feel closer to my lola to wear it. And it makes her so happy to see me in it." We turned down Main Street, passing the small complex of buildings that housed the mayor's office, the courthouse, and the sheriff's office. "There's your new office." "Yes." Sheriff Tavish smiled. "It will be a while before I can settle in, though. There's quite a few repairs that need to be made, first. The building's a bit … unusable, right now." I chuckled. "That's a generous way of putting it." He chuckled along with me. "I will admit, I was a bit dismayed when I saw how bad the building had been allowed to get. Holes in the ceiling, cracks in the walls. Not to mention the hay and manure on the floor?" "Oh, yes. I think it was used as a temporary barn after the main one burned down." "That explains it, then." He shook his head. "I'll do my best to get it repaired quickly, but that depends on how long the investigation takes." "Investigation?" We continued down the road, out of Woodside. The cobblestone of Main Street gave way to the dirt path that would lead through the forest to the next town, where my grandmother lived. "Yes," Sheriff Tavish affirmed. "I was hired to investigate the recent attacks."