Mr Wolf heard the sound of water. He picked up his pace and it didn’t take long to reach the stream.

A dam went from one side of the stream to the other. It held the stream back, creating a lake. Around the lake, beavers had built a village. The dam let just enough water through to make the gurgling sound he’d heard. It had rails across the top like a bridge, but it didn’t look very sturdy.

Mr Wolf barely noticed the beaver guarding the dam, as he wondered whether it would hold his weight or not. He decided to give it a try when he bumped into a wooden staff.

“Hey!” he complained, “What are you doing?”

The beaver on the other end of the staff looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing?” asked the beaver.

“I was just about to cross this dam, er, bridge,” Mr Wolf said, annoyed that the beaver was delaying him.

“Are you disparaging our bridge?” asked the beaver. Mr Wolf didn’t even know what disparaging meant, but he didn’t think he was doing it.

“No, it’s a fine bridge,” he said, impatiently.

“What’s your business?” asked the beaver.

“I, ah… I’m between jobs right now,” Mr Wolf replied, wondering why it was any of his business what his business was.

“No. What’s your business with our bridge?” asked the beaver, nudging him with his staff.

“I don’t have any business with your bridge,” Mr Wolf replied.

“Right then. Be on your way.” The beaver turned away from Mr Wolf, with his staff still blocking the bridge.

Mr Wolf wasn’t sure what had just happened. He was about to argue with the beaver again when he noticed that there wasn’t much water coming through the dam. He’d barely get his knees wet if he just walked across the stream below the dam.

“I’ll just cross over there,” he said.

“Sorry,” said the beaver. “can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“Regulations. All visitors must use the bridge when crossing the stream.”

“WELL THEN LET ME CROSS THE BRIDGE!” Mr Wolf shouted.

“What’s your business?”

“I already… Look,” Mr Wolf stopped and thought for a second. “I need to visit my sick Granny. I’m in a hurry.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” The beaver lifted his staff and called across to another beaver on the other side of the bridge, “He’s okay to cross.”

The other beaver yelled back, “What’s his business Woody?”

“He appears to be unemployed,” Woody answered.

“No,” the other beaver shouted, “what’s his business with our bridge?”

Mr Wolf put his hand on Woody’s shoulder and sighed. “It’s alright,” he said, “let me…”

He stepped onto the bridge and the logs beneath his feet shifted. He clamped his hands onto the rails. Suddenly he wasn’t so eager to cross.

“Oh that happens all the time,” Woody said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Mr Wolf continued, feeling carefully with his toes before each step. After a few steps the bridge hadn’t fallen, so he went forward more confidently.

That beaver had wasted so much time. Mr Wolf was worried the girl might catch up to him. They would probably let little miss goody two-shoes go straight across the bridge. He wondered how else he could delay her.

He had just reached the middle of the bridge when another log shifted under his foot. He grabbed hold of the rail, and had an idea.

He stamped his foot. The dam creaked a little, but otherwise remained stable. He jumped up and down a couple of times, but the dam merely groaned. The beavers turned to see what he was doing.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to do that,” Woody shouted.

Mr Wolf leaned down and pulled out a piece of wood. “Hah!” he yelled, expecting the whole bridge to collapse.

Nothing happened, except the beavers were angry now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the other beaver shouted.

Mr Wolf pulled out another piece of wood. “HAH!” he yelled again.

Still nothing happened, except both beavers were running towards him now. He leaped down and frantically pulled at the logs. The guards reached the middle of the bridge just as it started to fall. A spurt of water appeared from the dam.

“HAH!” Mr Wolf cried, holding out his arms, success at last.

Another spurt of water appeared. Then another, and another. Suddenly Mr Wolf realized that he was standing right in front of a collapsing dam.

The beavers grabbed hold of each other as the water swept them over the top of Mr Wolf.

Mr Wolf could only hold his breath as the entire dam and the lake behind it, crashed down on top of him.

Beavers streamed out from their huts around the lake. They dived into the water and slapped the surface with their tails – a warning signal that echoed through the forest. It was joined by an explosion of sound from the village as other animals and their houses were washed away.

In all the chaos, no one noticed when a very wet wolf dragged himself from the water. Each movement was more painful than the last. He collapsed on the bank with barely enough strength to admire his handy work. He held up his hands and gave a weary “Ha!” before crawling up the rest of the way to the path.

 

Mr Wolf was right, these yellow marigolds were much prettier than the violets closer to the path. Granny says marigolds are like having a little bit of sunshine inside the house. Red gave Mr Wolf a little wave to say thanks. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

She was picking some marigolds, when she noticed some roses nearby that smelled divine. The scent of those roses was sure to make Granny feel better.

Her mom would be so proud that she thought of picking flowers for Granny, and Granny was going to love having all these beautiful flowers around.

As she picked the fragrant orange roses, Red saw some pink carnations. Pink was Granny’s favorite color, so she just had to have some of those.

Red was surrounded by so many beautiful colors and smells, it was difficult to choose, and the flowers made such a nice buzzing sound. Red hummed along with the flowers as she reached for a lovely big red rose. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her thumb.

“Ouch!” she squealed. She watched a drop of blood grow on her thumb. She must have pricked it on a thorn.

She sucked her thumb and looked around. All she could see were flowers and trees. The path was nowhere to be seen. She swiped at something that flew past her nose. Why were the flowers getting louder?

She swiped again, and gasped.

BEES!

Red didn’t think, she just ran. She crashed through bushes and ducked around trees. She swiped madly at the bees attacking her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “I’m sorry I took your flowers.”

The bees didn’t hear her, or didn’t care. They kept coming. She kept running.

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. As she ran, the whistle kept bouncing up, hitting her in the face.

The WHISTLE!

She’d forgotten about the whistle. She took a deep breath and blew it as hard as she could. It was loud, it hurt her ears, but she didn’t care. She blew it again and again, hoping the forester would hurry.

Mr Wolf was passing some beavers when he heard the whistle. The beavers all stopped chopping and looked up from their logs. Were they looking at him? Why were they looking at him?

Mr Wolf didn’t understand why people didn’t trust him. It was always him getting into trouble, even when it wasn’t his fault. Even total strangers blamed things on Mr Wolf. He figured he just had one of those faces.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t even know why the little girl was blowing the whistle, but he knew he would somehow get the blame.

Mr Wolf wanted to put as much distance between him and that whistle as possible. But he couldn’t run, or those beavers would be even more suspicious. He just walked a little quicker and pretended he didn’t notice the beavers at all.

The forester crashed through the undergrowth and Red ran right into him. She kept thrashing and swatting, but he just held her in his strong arms.

Barely aware that she’d been found, she babbled, “Bees everywhere… lost… path.”

The forester looked around confused. “It’s alright. There are no bees.”

Red finally calmed down enough to notice that he was right. There were no more bees. She must have left them all behind. Feeling a little silly, she stopped swiping at the air.

“I was lost,” she said, “I couldn’t find the path.”

“Come with me,” said the forester. He took her hand and led her around a bush, to the path. It was right there. Red felt even sillier.

The forester knelt down so he was face to face with her. “Maybe you should go home now.”

“No!” said Red, “My Granny needs me.”

“Well…” he didn’t seem convinced.

“Please? I promise I’ll stay on the path.”

The forester sighed. “Make sure you do,” he said, standing up, “Whistle if you need me again.”

Red thanked him and checked her basket. A few flowers were missing, but everything else was safe. She started walking.

“Ahem!” The forester pointed in the opposite direction. “Your Granny’s house is that way.”

Red smiled and quickly spun around so the forester wouldn’t see how embarrassed she was. She hurried on her way before the forester could change his mind.

At last, the forester was gone.

Mr Wolf didn’t like foresters. They picked on him all the time. They always showed up just when it LOOKED like he was doing the wrong thing, so then he got in trouble—like now. That forester probably thought he was trying to steal the girls basket, when he was just offering to carry it for her.

And why did he have to give her a whistle? As if it wasn’t already hard enough for him to get those cupcakes.

He fell into step beside Red as she started walking again.

“That basket looks awfully heavy,” he said, “Perhaps I could carry it for you.”

“No thanks,” said Red.

They continued in silence for a while, Red skipping along and Mr Wolf plotting beside her.

ACHOO! He sneezed again. Stupid flowers. He should have known that smelling them would aggravate his hay fever. Look at them, all over the place, with their pretty little purple and yellow faces—taunting him.

What are they good for, other than giving people hay fever? Silly old ladies who think they brighten up the place. That little girl’s granny probably loves flowers.

Suddenly Mr Wolf had an idea.

“Aren’t all these flowers lovely,” he said, “I bet your Granny loves flowers.”

“She picks fresh flowers every day,” Red replied, “Sometimes I help her.”

“I bet you do,” said the wolf, “I wonder if anyone’s been bringing her flowers since she’s been ill.”

Red stopped. “I could take her some.”

“What a wonderful idea,” Mr Wolf said, “I’m sure some flowers would cheer her up no end. I know! Why don’t I hold your basket while you pick the flowers.”

“That’s okay,” said Red, “I’ll keep it to put the flowers in.”

“But…” Mr Wolf began, but he was too late. She was already picking flowers.

AARGH! What was he going to do now? He couldn’t follow her. Just looking at those horrible flowers made his nose tickle.

He had to come up with another plan, an even cleverer one. How could he get the girl to give him the cupcakes?

His tummy grumbled, interrupting his thoughts.

“Silly old Granny,” he said to himself, “She gets to have cupcakes, and I bet she’s nowhere near as hungry as I am.”

He thought about little Granny rabbit tucked into her comfy little bed, all helpless and alone in her cottage beyond the stream, and had another idea—a very clever idea indeed.

Now that he knew where Granny rabbit lived, he just needed to get there before that little girl did.

“Those flowers are even nicer,” he called, pointing to some flowers further away from the path. Red waved, and headed towards them.

Mr Wolf chuckled.

“Sucker,” he said, and headed towards the stream.

The little girl was FINALLY alone. Mr Wolf had been worried for a minute. He thought those nasty little pigs were going to steal his cupcakes, but they gave them all back. Ha, Idiots!

He’d been planning to sneak up and steal the basket. But since her little run in with the pigs, she was holding it far too tightly. He’d have to be much smarter than that.

He caught up with Red just as she entered the woods.

“Why hello little girl,” he said, smiling as pleasantly as he could.

Red jumped. She hadn’t noticed the wolf next to her. He had a funny look on his face, as if he was in pain. A bit like the look people get when they’re busting for the toilet but someone else is using it and they have to wait.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” The wolf replied, not sure why she was asking, “Where are you off to on such a lovely day?”

Red suddenly remembered. “My mom said I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“And she’s absolutely right,” Mr Wolf declared, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Winston Wolf. Most people call me Mr Wolf, but you, my dear girl, may call me Winston.

“There now, we’re no longer strangers.”

Red didn’t think that was quite what her mom meant. She just smiled politely and kept walking, hoping the wolf would leave her alone. But Mr Wolf was far too hungry to give up that easily.

“My, that’s a beautiful hood,” he said, keeping up with her, “Such a lovely shade of red.”

Red didn’t mean to say anything, but she loved her red riding hood so much. The words just came out by themselves.

“My Granny made it for me.”

“Of course she did,” Mr Wolf said, “How lucky you are to have such a nice Granny. Is she here with you?” he asked, looking around.

“No, she’s not feeling well,” Red said.

“Not well? Oh dear.” Mr Wolf looked concerned. “Someone should take her some yummy cupcakes, or something to make her feel better.”

“That’s just what I’m doing!” Red exclaimed.

“No!” Mr Wolf pretended to be shocked. “All by yourself? Do beware. The forest is no place for a little girl to travel alone.”

“But—” started Red.

“I know!” Mr Wolf stopped in his tracks. “I shall travel with you.”

Red tried again, “Thank you, but—”

“No. Don’t thank me,” Mr Wolf kept walking, “All the better to make sure that you’re safe.”

“But I’m not a little girl,” Red finally got out.

“Of course you’re not,” said Mr Wolf, “Shall I carry your basket for you?”

When she saw Mr Wolf’s big hairy mitts reaching for the basket, Red held on to it even tighter. She glared at him, giving him THE LOOK! She was a little surprised when it seemed to work. Mr Wolf held his hands up and backed away.

Pleased with herself, Red turned back to the path.

The sun was shining through the trees, so at first she just saw a figure rimmed with gold light. He looked like an angel. Tall and strong, his antlers glistened in the sun.

When he came closer, Red saw he was wearing a green tunic with the King’s coat of arms—the uniform of a forester.

“Hello little miss. Is this wolf bothering you?”

Red looked at Mr Wolf. Compared to the forester he was fairly scrawny, and quite scruffy looking. Just at that moment he seemed to be admiring some flowers.

“A little bit. Not really.” Even though Red didn’t trust Mr Wolf, she didn’t mind having someone to talk to.

ACHOO! The wolf sneezed. He threw the flowers down and stomped them into the ground. He looked up and realized Red and the forester were both watching him throw his little temper tantrum. He quickly smiled and picked up the broken flowers, and arranged them as nicely as he could against a tree.

The forester just shook his head. “Where’s your mother? Are you lost?”

“No,” said Red, “I’m taking these cupcakes to Granny, because she’s sick.”

“You mean old Granny Rabbit, just beyond the stream?”

Red nodded.

“I had noticed her garden was looking a bit overgrown. I’m sorry to hear she’s unwell,” the forester said, “Why don’t you run on home and let me deliver the cupcakes for you. The forest is no place for a little girl.”

“I can take them.” Red wondered why everyone was trying to take her cupcakes, “and I’m not little,” she added, as the forester took something out of his pocket.

“Well, just be careful,” he said, “Take this whistle, and blow it if you get into trouble.”

Red thanked him and put the whistle around her neck. She was sure she wouldn’t need it, but the whistle did make her feel better.

 

Red watched Mrs Rabbit head towards the castle. She didn’t know what her mother was so worried about. She’d been to Granny’s before, and she’d done just fine going to the market by herself.

Suddenly her basket was snatched out of her hands.

“What have we got here?” a big pig said.

“No!” Red cried, “They’re for my Granny.”

“Mmmm, cupcakes,” said another pig, who looked like he could eat the whole basket in a single gulp.

Red tried to get the basket back, but they held it over her head, and tossed it to each other, singing:

Bunny in the middle,
You’re too little.
Here you go. Psych!
‘Cause you’re
Bunny in the middle.

Red jumped as high as she could, but the boys were just too big. She was trying very hard not to cry when she saw Ebony walk right up to the big boys. Red knew Ebony from school.

“Rusty! Hamish! Give that back this instant!” Ebony said, wagging her finger at the boys. “Sorry about my brothers,” she said to Red, making sure that everything in the basket was alright.

Red sniffed.

“That’s okay,” she said. She didn’t really mean it, but she knew it was the right thing to say, and Ebony had always been nice to her at school.

“Are you going into woods?” asked the big pig called Rusty, “Alone?”

“All by yourself?” added Hamish.

Red just nodded, holding her basket tight with both hands. She didn’t like the way Hamish was looking at it.

“You’d better be careful,” said Rusty, “Little girls get eaten all the time.”

“Yeah,” continued Hamish. “by things with claws.”

“And bloody paws.”

“By goblins.”

“And witches.”

“And owls!”

“You can’t scare me,” said Red, trying very hard to be brave.

“Leave her alone!” Ebony said as her brothers burst out laughing, “This kind of behavior is why Mom kicked you out!”

“Oh yeah?” taunted Rusty, “Why did she kick you out then?”

“Because I’m unlucky enough to be related to YOU,” Ebony said, and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you coming or not?” the pig with the cart of bricks shouted from down the road.

“Coming Uncle,” Ebony called. She turned to Red as she pushed her brothers away, “Sorry again,” she said, “they’re mean.”

Red turned back to the woods, glad the pigs had finally left her alone. With the trees towering over her, she thought the woods looked darker than normal. She hesitated. All of a sudden she wasn’t feeling very brave.

“Don’t be silly,” she scolded herself. “Granny needs me.” And even though she was still a bit scared, she entered the woods.

Mr Wolf was starving. All morning he’d been trying to figure out a way to get something to eat, without any luck.

Frankie the ferret and Jack Stoat didn’t like it when Mr Wolf was hungry. Sometimes he’d look at them with a funny little smile, as if he was imagining how delicious they might be covered in gravy, with peas and mashed potato on the side.

Stinky the rat didn’t have that worry. Before anyone could imagine eating him, they’d have to wonder how many baths it would take to wash off the years of caked on dirt and grime. Even then, you just knew there would be plenty of stink left over.

But Mr Wolf wasn’t thinking about eating his companions. He was looking for an excuse to get rid of them. Even if you put them all together, they weren’t much smarter than the rock Mr Wolf was sitting on. They hadn’t been any help all day. Mr Wolf thought he could do much better without them. Plus, when he did finally get some food he wouldn’t have to share any of it.

Mr Wolf watched as Stinky stuck a finger in his ear and pulled out a nasty glob of ear wax. He examined it carefully, possibly wondering how many calories it had, before sticking it in his mouth. Stinky rarely went hungry.

Mr Wolf gagged. “There goes my appetite,” he said, although he was so hungry that even Stinky’s ear wax was starting to look pretty tempting. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would taste like.

Cupcakes?

His eyes snapped open and his nose twitched.

“Cupcakes!” he said.

Looking around, he saw that horrible little hood girl skipping along with her mother. He hated how she was always so CHEERFUL! But he could almost put up with it if it meant he could taste one of Mrs Rabbits delicious cupcakes.

“Stay here!” he told his gang, and started to follow the cupcakes. He tried to be sneaky, hiding behind bushes and carts. He didn’t realize that Mrs Rabbit was in such a rush, she wouldn’t have noticed him anyway.

He could see the cupcakes bouncing around in Red’s basket, and was just coming up with a plan when he saw Red and her mother stop. He quickly froze.

Unfortunately he forgot to get off the road first. Mr Wolf was so busy watching Red and her mother, that he didn’t see the cart full of bricks coming straight for him. The pig pushing the cart didn’t see him either.

The next thing Mr Wolf remembered was waking up and hearing laughter. He opened his eyes, and thought he was seeing double. Then he realized there really were two pigs pointing and laughing at him.

“Sorry about them,” said another little pig as she walked past, “They’re mean.”

It was quite a struggle for Mr Wolf to lift his head, after being run over by a cart full of bricks, and then trampled by the pig pushing it. But when he saw Mrs Rabbit leave Red all by herself. He was so happy that he almost forgot how much pain he was in.

He smiled. This was going to be too easy.

Mrs Rabbit was in such a hurry Red nearly had to hop just to keep up.

“Now, make sure you don’t dawdle,” Mrs Rabbit warned, “and stay on the path. You do remember the way, don’t you?”

Red nodded. It was hard to talk when they were going so fast. Luckily, just then they stopped to let a wagon pass.

It was the most beautiful wagon Red had ever seen. She had a closer look while she caught her breath. The wagon was painted so many beautiful colors. It had red wheels, blue sides and a yellow roof. The window on the side had pink shutters, and there were so many colorful decorations Red couldn’t even begin to count them. On the side she read:

Mr Fox’s Miracle Elixir. There is no sore it will not heal. No pain it will not—

She didn’t get to read it all, because just then one of the wagon’s wheels bumped into a puddle, splashing Mrs Rabbit with mud. “Ooh! Those crooks!” Mrs Rabbit complained, “Coming here to swindle decent folk.”

A little fox was sitting on the back of the wagon, swinging her legs. She waved to Red as she went past. Red waved back, but just a quick wave so her mom wouldn’t notice.

When they continued on their way, Mrs Rabbit had even more instructions like, “Be careful crossing the stream,” and “Don’t talk to strangers.”

“Yes Mom,” Red would say each time.

They were in such a rush that neither Red nor her mother noticed that a wolf had started to follow them. What was worse, the wolf was licking his lips.