Hovering over the wolf, she drew the knife out of his still-warm body. Vermillion reached her knees and painted her pretty dress with inelegant speckles of red. Winter had come early and his blood had spilled on the immaculate white. Though there was snow on the ground, there were still apples on the tree above them.
She felt a snowflake drop on the bridge of her nose then felt it melt away. Her breath created patterns before her.
There was now one heartbeat. Just a short while ago there were two thumping madly against the confinement of skin and bone.
The daisies and the little blue flowers with their pudding faces froze under the sheet of white. They had blossomed only to die. She would not follow their fate.
Slowly, she reached over the wolf and cut out his heart. A little wooden box rested next to her little white shoes. She placed his heart inside it - gently - against the red velvet lining.
She rose. And with the knife still dripping with the wolf's blood she took the little box and made her way back towards the castle.
The mirror was the next thing she would take.
She tucked her hair under the red hood and walked towards the Queen's castle.