"Peter!" Red's harsh whisper brought him to attention. She, herself, could barely breathe. It was as if her innards had frozen. "Peter..." This time her voice came out as a moan. Peter quickly took her cold hands into his own. "Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I think the beast has go-" His words were lost in the deafening roar of the wolf.
Red sat at her father's feet, her eyes completely focused on her father. Whenever he told her a story, she always felt as if he was putting a spell on her. However, tonight, her expected story would have to wait, her father had said. And so now, she sat at his feet as usual, wondering exactly why her story had to wait. It wasn't as if she was spoiled, but the stories were like a sweet present every night. Her mother was quietly sewing in the corner. The dutiful wife. Red supposed that she took from her father's side. She was restless and could never quite stay still. A horn rang through the stillness. Her father stood. "The hunt begins."