A Tale From a Yellow Wood

Frau Eva

The small child toddled between the towering trees, humming and laughing in anticipation. Her red cloak made her conspicuous in the yellow wood, as it did most everywhere. Her beloved brother had given her this cloak of fine red velvet many years ago, and he had smiled when he saw his sister's face light up with joy. She wore it always, and the whole village knew her by it. She was her brother's sister, in a cloak as red as his hair.

She had a long way to get to him; the trails in the yellow wood were long and winding. He was far from her no matter what she did, a fact which broke the small child's heart. However, she was nothing if not tenacious. Today she brought him a little yellow basket full of sweets, enough-the child thought-to sweeten his jaded heart. She brought him a fresh pie full of hope, bottles of candied dreams, porridge mixed with cinnamon and bliss, and an aged red wine as intoxicating as love itself.

"Good morn to you, poppet," a deep, slow voice spoke. His movements were languid and graceful, like a cat. "What would you be doing all alone in the woods?"

"I'm to visit my brother, good wolf," she said with a smile, putting down her basket. He crouched down and put his arm around her, the girl suddenly feeling coy.

"Be sure you don't get lost, poppet," he said. She could not turn away from his emerald eyes. "The woods are thick indeed."

"I will, good wolf." She giggled, cheeks pink.

He smiled. "And be wary of the animals that make the woods their home. Many a creature would like to have a sweet little girl like you as their supper." He propped up her chin with his long dark fingers. He moved closer, almost nuzzling her neck. She was frozen and flustered. "Yes...a tender little poppet like you would finely slake an animal's hunger." He breathed deeply, then sighed against her skin. Her eyes were half-lidded. He stroked his long fingers slowly over her neck, grinning widely. "I bet you taste just like sugar."

He immediately moved away, rising to his full height. "Well then, I wouldn't want your dear brother to worry about you." That remark made him smile. "You best be on your way, poppet." With that, the wolf walked off, the girl watching him as he went.

"What a strange wolf," she muttered to herself, looking to her side for her basket. All that met her eyes was the dusty trail. "What..." she said, startled, "My basket...my yellow basket is gone!" She stood there for a moment, the shock of the deed registering in the small child's mind. "It...it couldn't have been the wolf, could it? No, no, he was so helpful and kind! It must have been...it must have been the witch! That terrible witch!"

Her brows furrowed when she remembered the woman who lived near her cottage. The girl had once peered into the witch's home in the forest-as any curious child would do-only to see the entire cottage covered in animals. They growled and began to chase her, the little girl running home in tears. From then on the animals didn't love her as they should, but she could see them following the witch wherever she went. The witch would always smile to her and entice her with apples and strange drinks. However, the little girl knew. She knew about the strange rituals in the forest, where a circle of men would gather round her and the witch would take off her kerchief and unbind her hair.

"She...she stole it from me! She stole my love, my hope, my happiness, my candied dreams!" The girl stomped her foot, sobbing as she repeated, "The witch stole my basket! She stole my little yellow basket!" She knew it would take her all day to have those goodies made again, and certainly more to weave a basket. Her brother was expecting her today. She could not buy any of it from the market, since she only had three farthings in her little red cloak. She sobbed and trudged along the path, knowing she had no choice but to come to her beloved brother empty-handed. What would he think, what would he do when she told him the witch stole her basket? Would he even believe her? She remembered him talking to the witch once, before he left to live far past the woods. The little girl gasped. Had the witch put a spell on her brother? She hadn't truly talked to her brother in so long, she could not be sure. Her memories of him were scattered and idealized patch-work.

She finally reached her brother's cottage. It was large but unfamiliar to her, a place so distant that she felt always like a guest. She knocked on the door, sobbing, "Big brother! Big brother!"

"Come in," a voice said, familiar yet strange. She opened the door, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Big brother! I had a yellow basket full of sweets for you, but the witch stole it from me! The witch stole it from me, big brother!"

He turned to her from his position in the chair. She stopped crying suddenly, her entire body frozen as she stared at him. He was so like she remembered, but so like the wolf. He grinned at her leeringly. Although, with her memory, she could never be sure that he had actually been this way all along.