Tales of the Big Bad Wolf: The Red Riding Hood Arc (A Fairy Tale)

Chapter Nine: Red Riding Hood, Red Riding Hood

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CHAPTER NINE

Red Riding Hood, Red Riding Hood

Grandmother Winchester slept the long deep sleep of a person at peace.  She did not wake until nightfall, when she woke to the smell of spice and apples baking in the oven.  Quietly, she crept down the small set of stairs and towards the kitchen in the back of her home.

She paused for a moment in the doorway, reveling in the sight of her granddaughter tending the hearth.  Elanore had exchanged her heavy woolen dress for a light frock that she had likely uncovered amongst her mother’s old things.  As the soft glow of the fire illuminated her granddaughter’s brow, the dancing light cast an illusion.  Adele Winchester saw her daughter Evelyn standing there, young and happy, tending that same fire.  In this vision, Mr. Winchester was there behind her, seated at the table and drinking his tea.

But as the girl stood up and stepped away from the fire, the memory dissipated.   Her husband was gone, as was Evelyn.  Adele looked down at her hands, freckled and rough. She was now an old, grey figured bowed by the weight of time, with only a young sprite in the kitchen, turning her normally tidy space into a disaster.

“Elanore,” the lady made a displeased face as she looked at the mess of broken meats sitting neglected on the counter behind the girl.   “Are you making dessert before dinner?”

“Why, of course,” Elanore’s eyes were alight with merriment as she turned to embrace her grandmother.  “These apples can not last forever, and I’m determined to find a quick way to help you regain the weight you’ve lost.  What better way to conquer your illness through a full sized apple pie?”

Her grandmother sniffed. “The Southlands have corrupted you.  A pie is such a decadent way to use the apples your mother sent. And preparing your last course before your first!” 

The sprite did not care much for being scolded.  She laughed instead, and took her grandmother’s hands in her own.  Adele’s weathered hands held Elanore’s in her own, savoring the warmth and strength they offered.

Elanore led her to a comfortable chair near the hearth. “It may look like a mess, but I promise you, that all will be done as it ought to be.”  Elanore turned quick, bright eyes upon the chaos of the kitchen, not seeing the mess, but only the potential of the ingredients she had lain about in various places.  With a cheerful optimism reminiscent of Elanore’s grandfather, the girl continued.  “Please forgive such extravagance. With the delay in arriving here, I’m afraid a pie was the best way to use them.  And come spring, though, we’ll be able to find more fruit.”

Her grandmother stared out the small window in the kitchen. “It will be quite a while before it becomes spring here, Elanore. In the meantime, the winters here are harsh and fresh fruit from the south will be hard to come by, particularly the longer the coach remains out of commission.  The deliveries have been less frequent this past year with so many families turning southward and the demand for goods dropping here. And now with the snow falling so often, it’s delaying things even more--“

The small lift of Elanore’s chin told the lady that she hadn’t even considered all of this before she had started baking.   Mrs. Winchester sighed.  Scolding Elanore for something she didn’t know was pointless. She would have to make sure, however, that both she and Edmund addressed this lack of knowledge about the northerner’s way of life much more thoroughly.