By Jordan Simon

I trudge along through the mud and foliage, my bare feet tired and swelling. I can feel the pain, clear as day; but by now, it’s routine to just ignore it. As far as I can bother to be concerned, it’s just one of many unfortunate accessories to my unwanted adventure. Another such accessory stalks from behind. Always a few steps back; forever in my shadow…waiting to pounce.

I look back at it: A black quadruped; red-stained fur and a vicious muzzle, chock-full of yellow daggers and a dollop of smelly spittle. Its face, ever-twisted into a horrific, jack-o-lantern grin.

“Tell me again, Red,” It growls, voice a low rasp. “Which things are mine to take?”

I frown, blinking away the sleepiness, once again. “Not this thing, you mangy chain smoker.”

The beast chuckles, the sound like nails on the proverbial chalkboard.

“Say say, Red? Are you feeling sleepy yet?” Even without looking back, I can still practically see his face twisting into that grin of his. “You know, if you want, you can rest for a bit.”

“That so?” By now, I hardly recognize the dull drawl that has become my voice, once oozing with childlike wonder. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Are you sure, Red? You look pretty tired,” he sings. “Just for a moment, close your eyes. You look a mess.”

It’s a very tempting offer; so very tempting. But I surely know better than that. “Pass,” I sigh. As if I have the luxury of rest.

“Say, say, Red? Are you crying?”

I scowl, wiping my face. “You’re boring me to tears, dear wolf.” I opt to tune out his obnoxious laughter and keep my eyes forward; the panning of emaciated forestry twisting and turning in an obscure, treacherous path that only I can see, and the lumbering beast behind me just a few steps short..

“Hey, hey, Red?” I groan at hearing the annoying wolf’s voice once more, debating on just ignoring him. “RED! I know you can hear me!”…whatever.

“What is it now, dear wolf?” The acid on my tongue should be clear as day, but nonetheless gets brushed aside nonetheless by the wolf.

“Why are you here?” I stop, almost stumbling for a brief moment before resuming briskly. That was a surprisingly good question. In truth, I’m still working it out, myself. Not that I’ll ever tell him that.

“That’s my own business.”

The wolf tilts its humongous head in confusion. “Why don’t you go back?”

“I can’t”

“Why?”

… Now isn’t that the million dollar question? Regardless, I stubbornly refuse to humor the furry bastard.

“You should go back, little Red,” the wolf says, suddenly sounding surprisingly serious. “It’s not so easy out here.”

I can’t help but snort, at that. “I think I’ve realized that by now, dear wolf”

“There are much more terrible things out here than me, little Red…” he fires back solemnly, surprising me. “Even the big bad wolf is only so big.” Now I really do stop, the wolf sidling up by my side.

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles darkly, amber eyes pinning me against my will. “ Why are you here, Red?”

“… I ran away from home.” I sigh

“Why?”

“Because…because it was hard,” I manage to grind out. It really is all I can manage.

“Hard?”

“Yes.”

“Harder than this?” He gestures around us with his nose and my eyes follow unconsciously, taking in the corpse-like trees and bleak sky. I don’t want to answer because even I’m not quite sure yet. “Aren’t you hungry, little Red?”

I frown, trying and failing to ignore the pain of cobwebs in my stomach. “Aren’t you?”

“Nah.” The wolf barks out a taunting laugh, startling me. “I ate right before you got here!” I can read between the lines. He suddenly does a 180 though. “If I were you, I would hurry up and go back before something bigger and badder finds and makes lunch out of you.”

“That so?”

Sitting back on his haunches, the wolf nods, almost eagerly. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world out here, little Red. You would do well to remember that.”

I frown. He isn’t wrong. It really is hard out here in these woods. Food is almost impossibly scarce. The only way to eat out here, it seems, is to step on one of the little guys and there are tons of spooky critters ready to do just that; they’re just dying to get fat off your carcass. Though even still, I have yet to decide whether or not it’s actually harder than going back home; than admitting that they were right. Not for the first time, my pride wages war with my common sense.

Back at home there was food a warm bed. I’d be safe, too. Plus, I wouldn’t have to hear this stupid mutt talk down on me any longer. It wouldn’t even take much: Just turn back; go home and apologize. ‘Just say you’re sorry. Admit you couldn’t do it; go back and grovel. They’ll take you back, no questions asked.’ It really was a no-brainer.

So am I still here? Even as I ask myself that, I’m walking forward again, once more ignoring the pain in my feet; the weight on my eyelids; the ache in my desolate tummy. Even if I can’t really put it into words, I suppose my body already knows why.

The wolf starts walking alongside me once more. “Do you have an answer?” He grins again. It’s a sinister look that once struck terror into me. Now though, the feeling seems to pass right over my head.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I breathe. Even still, I can see it in my mind: the image of home. My mother and my father are waiting, arms open. Just a couple of steps is all it would take. I shake my head and turn away, ignoring their sad smiles; neglecting the sting of tears on my cheeks. Perhaps someday I’ll go back. But not today. “ But we can’t stay little forever, dear wolf.”