Little Red's Riding

Meeting the Alpha

Once she had put a mile between herself and the blue eyed man, she stopped and dropped her basket again, gently placing her cloak over the handle so that it wouldn't get dirty on the ground. Taking the belt she carefully wound it around her waist, tightening it to the tightest hole. Thankfully the man at the river had had a surprisingly slender waist and so it was only a little loose on her. Picking up her cloak she wrapped it around her shoulders this time and pulled the hood up over her dark hair before picking up her basket.

"You're lucky that Oliver has such a svelt, feminine waist." A deep voice said just ahead of her on the path.

Dahlia froze in place, only her hand inside her cloak falling to the hilt of the sword at her hip as she let the basket fall again at her feet.

"Oh Kitten, do you want to play?" The voice chuckled as he said the words and Dahlia looked about wildly, trying to locate the man who had spoken.

"Can't find me Kitten? But if you came so deep in this forest of ours surely you must think that you can defend yourself, can't you?"

Dahlia took a deep breath and pulled the sword from its sheath in one smooth motion. She knew that she wasn't the best swordsman in the world, but she wasn't horrible. Before her brother had left to become a knight, well a squire for a knight, he had used her as his practice partner, and so she wasn't a stranger to a sword in her hand, even if she was more used to the wooden sort.

"Oh look, the Kitten has claws." He was taunting her now and Dahlia found herself growing impatient and ready to get on her way.

"If you're so brave, why don't come out where I can see you?" Dahlia spoke in her most confident tone, letting her hood fall back to reveal her long silky waves. "I need to get this food to my grandmother and if you're as full of hot air as you seem, I'm going to start walking again and you better not follow me."

There was a long moment of silence and Dahlia gripped the sword so tightly in her hand that it nearly left an imprint. I'll count, she thought to herself, and if he hasn't said anything when I get to ten I'm going to pick up my basket and go on my way.

"One. Two. Three." She breathed the words so quietly she was certain that no one else would be able to hear them. What was that smell? It was a mixture of cedar and oranges. She wet her lips and breathed deeply before she continued counting. "Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..."

"Ten." Dahlia turned on her heel to head down the path towards her intended destination and felt as if she'd smacked into a brick wall.

How could a man's muscles feel so much like stone? she thought briefly as she nearly dropped the sword, but hours of training with her brother, who would have smacked her upside the head if she'd done such a thing, caused her fingers to reflexively curl around the hilt.

His hand came up briefly, gliding across her waist and she heard him mutter something that sounded like "mate" as she spun out of his grip, elbowing him as hard as she could in the sternum, which by the look on his face seemed to surprise him.

Dahlia also managed to avoid knocking into the basket that still needed to be delivered and she took several large steps away from it now, hoping to lead this rogue to a part of the path where he wouldn't be in danger of smooshing her muffins.

"Take care not to damage my baked goods." She warned him as she pointed the tip of her sword in his direction. "I need to deliver these. It's of the utmost importance."

It briefly occurred to her that she might be slightly overstating the importance of the baked goods, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. She had always had a flair for the dramatic, she thought as her lips curved into a smile. It was part of her charm.