Page 2 of Big Bad Wolf

It’s circling me. The beast had chased me down like prey, and I’d stupidly stopped running, standing still like a sitting duck as I searched for it.

A snuffling sound. A twig snapping as though the monster has decided there’s no point in hiding its approach. A soft rumble that has the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

I shiver, and then I realize that I’m still just standing here, waiting for the beast to make me its meal.

“Nope,” I choke, spinning and running with the cloak clutched in both of my hands. “Nope, nope, nope. Not today, Fido.”

Was it a dog? It was dog-ish. Thinking it of a massive German Shepherd—like, I’m in Germany, right, so maybe that’s what it is—is much better than accepting that I’m being chased by a⁠—

Behind me, something big crashes through the underbrush. I spare a quick glance over my shoulder even though I know I shouldn’t, and the one word that I’ve been trying desperately not to think pops into my brain.

Wolf.

That’s a fucking wolf.

I didn’t know those suckers could be that big, and it’s moving way quicker than something of that size should be able to before slowing to a predatory stalk, its ears arrowed back and its muzzle open enough to show off its fangs.

So it’s not running full-out anymore. Doesn’t matter. It’s still coming after me.

I gasp, and at the same time, something happens to the forest. It shifts, I swear it does, and I stumble backward before thinking: run.

But where?

The narrow path in front I was desperately following changes just like the forest did. It bends, disappearing into the woods as the trees close in on each other. Shadows multiply while the moon dims.

The air feels thicker, or maybe that’s because I can’t fucking breathe.

“Go, Charlotte, you fucking idiot,” I rasp to myself. “Go.”

I go, but as though the forest has decided to help the wolf, another root pops into existence perfectly in time to snare my big toe. I can’t stop my momentum. I go down hard enough that I lose my breath. Dirt and pebbles and forest debris scrape my palms as I scrabble against it, determined to push myself back to my tender feet even as the cloak tangles around my naked legs.

“Get up,” I hiss at myself, unable to keep my trap shut even with death breathing down my neck. “Get up⁠—”

I manage to get to my knees before a heavy weight lands at my side, no noise, just an unavoidable presence that appears two seconds before the bristle of the beast’s fur brushes against my cheek.

My head snaps in time to come face to face with the gold-tinged, beady black eye staring at me with such hunger, I nearly piss myself.

Instead, I whimper, and the wolf huffs, its hot breath slapping me in the face. For a second, I freeze. In the next? You better yell ‘timber’ because Charlotte Linden is going down.

I’m down and I’m out, and my last thought as unconsciousness overtakes me is that I really hope I don’t feel it when the big, bad wolf eats me.

CHAPTER 1

MONSTERS

TWO WEEKS AGO

Magic is real.

And, okay, I know how that sounds. Trust me. I spent most of my early life rolling my eyes at anyone who insisted it was. Wishes were for people who still believed someone out there was listening to them.

I knew better.

When you grow up the way I did, bouncing from one foster family to another, never staying long enough to matter to anyone, you get disillusioned pretty quickly. However, there’s always been a hint of wonder… of what-if… that I never quite lost. So while I scoffed at the idea that magic might exist, young Charlotte Linden went all-in when it came to fairytales.

Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Little Red Riding Hood… they were the stories I read to myself when no one else would, and they imprinted on me in a way that I refused to let any of my trauma.

Losing both of my parents by the time I was five, with no bio family willing to take responsibility for me.