I know the ending leaves a bit to be desired, but that's for you to continue on your own if you like. Please let me know what you think, I wrote this all when I was half-asleep at midnight. Forgive any spelling or grammatical errors!

Red

A red cloak let him stand out among the gloom and mist of the enclosed forest trees. He often said the color helped hunters discern him from the wildlife. It didn’t stop others from speculating that the tone, so dark, had come to be coated in a layer of blood. But these accusations were uttered by the elderly, the senile and schizophrenic, whom no one believed anyway. If anyone were to ask, he would say he had dyed it in a natural, nearly-forgotten way: With the berries of the forest. A hood sewn to the shoulders protected his head from the chill in the air.

In his left hand a wicker-woven bag hung from a leather strap. Its top was covered with a black cloth, the contents hidden from view of whoever might want to sneak a peek, if anyone were near. The silence was almost complete, save for the rustling of bushes as wildlife, the whistling and chattering of birds or squirrels and chipmunks in the trees. Insects buzzed, filling his head with the noise, flitting past his eyes. Red, so he had come to be known, waved away a particularly large gnat and looked behind him. He paused on the beaten trail, staring at the emptiness behind him. Foggy mist obscured most of the area behind him, but nothing particularly large disturbed the organized chaos.

Red narrowed his eyes. Turning back around, he took a step forward before setting his gaze on the trail before him. A growl snapped him to attention, however, and he backed away from a massive form that had silently come to block his way. It stood on two legs, but its posture was terrible, and it bent down as though in a perpetual crouch. As Red’s eyes adjusted to the new form, he could clearly see two yellow eyes glaring back at him, clawed hands and feet, and a dark brown body covered in matted, wiry fur. The werewolf was thin, almost starved, its ears shredded and its muzzle scarred. In the dim light, Red could see its teeth, a bleached white.

He reacted immediately; Red jammed one hand up the sleeve of his cloak and withdrew a gun. Its barrel was very large, as though it were a grenade launcher, and the wolf’s eyes narrowed in challenge.

“All I want’s the bag.” It said. Its voice was rough, deep and guttural. “Give it.” He put a paw out, flexing his claws. “Gimme.”

“Over my dead body.” Red cocked the gun and tightened his grasp on it. The wolf reacted slowly at first, lowering himself onto the ground on all fours. Then without warning he leapt forward, claws extended and mouth wide open, for Red’s throat. Red ducked in time for the wolf to fly over him, but its back claws caught his hood and wrenched him to the ground. Flailing for a moment, Red struggled up and onto his knees, taking aim with his weapon and firing. A blaze of fire exploded from the barrel of the gun, hitting the wolf square in the thin stomach.

Red set the gun aside as the wolf stood and let out a frustrated, pained howl. It echoed through the trees, unlike regular wolves, whose voices didn’t echo. Red pulled a blade from his sleeve, unsheathing it and leaping to his feet. The wolf was caught off guard as he slashed through its right arm, leaving a deep wound on its tough flesh, staining the dirty fur with blood. Red spun to face the wolf again, but it backed away.

The wolf snarled, saliva stringing from its mouth. “You win this one. I’ll be back. I’ll be back, boy.” It laughed angrily, a predatory sound that held plenty of resentment. Before Red could act again, the wolf ran past, on all fours, and vanished into a grouping of bushes that nearly obscured the path onward. Red sheathed the blade again and picked up his gun, returning it to the wicker-woven basket as he continued on.


Over a final bridge, this one rather rickety and over a particularly raging river, Red stared at a small house at the mouth of a clearing. He sighed, brushing back his black hair and forcing his aching feet to move again, up from the beaten dirt to cobblestone. When he reached the door, he leaned against it for a moment and caught his breath. He had been sent a long way, several miles, mostly uphill. With an open hand, he slapped the wood of the closed front door several times. The owner of the house was a bit hard of hearing, and he made up for that to the point that his palm stung. When the old woman didn’t answer, he tried the knob, and it turned easily.

Stepping into the living room, Red’s heavy footfalls were muffled on a thick throw rug. A lamp was lit and sitting on a side table, beside a plush green armchair. A staircase sat to the right, leading to the second floor landing, and a couch and bookcase stood against the opposite wall underneath a picture window framed with a green floral-patterned curtains. An archway led into the kitchen, lit only slightly by a flickering glow.

A thud sounded from upstairs. Red set his bag down on the chair, grabbing his gun from inside and reloaded it as he moved up the stairs. His footfalls were anything but silent despite his trying to be stealthy, but Red feared for the old woman. He wasn’t sure how she was, or who she was, really. Moving up to the landing, Red narrowed his eyes to see in the gloom. Three doors lined the hall to his left, and the last was slightly ajar. A bedroom. Gritting his teeth, Red stepped forward. He hadn’t wanted to come to any confrontation on this mission, but it didn’t seem like peace was an option.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Only a candle was lit, sitting on the bedside table. A shadowy form, massive in the small room, leaped from the bed and past Red, blocking the door. In the candlelight, glaring teeth and shining yellow eyes gave the intruder a name.

“Well.” Red said slowly. “The big... bad... wolf. If I had to guess, you did away with the woman?”

“She wasn’t here.” The wolf growled. “Lucky for her, eh? Not so lucky for you. I told you I’d get you.”

“What do you think you can do?” Red raised his gun. “Anything more than before?”

The wolf didn’t respond. It lunged forward before Red could put his finger on the trigger. The wolf slapped then gun from his hand and pinned him to the floor, snapping for Red’s face. He pushed the animal back and wrenched his knife out, pushing it up and into the wolf’s shoulder. A piercing howl filled the room, but instead of backing away, the animal beared down again, forcing the breath from Red’s lungs. He brought a leg up, under the wolf, and kicked it back, rolling over and grabbing his gun.

He rolled onto his back and fired at the wolf. The shot ricocheted off the knife lodged in its shoulder, pushing it deeper and blackening the fur nearby. The wolf let out a roar of anger, leaping forward as Red jumped back and toward the open door. “Who do you work for?” Red demanded, pointing the gun at the wolf.

“I’ll die before I tell you, ‘Lil Red.” The wolf gave a nasty smirk.

“You’re a coward. I won’t kill you.” Red pulled the hammer back on his gun. “I’ll just shoot your limbs off one by one.”

As Red glared, the wolf bared its teeth. “Not unless you die first.”

“That’ll be the day.” Red pulled the trigger.

The gun caught. A click rang out, and Red’s heart skipped a beat. “Damn.”

A deep laugh resounded from the wolf’s throat. “Looks like you’re out.”

Red slapped the barrel of his gun, a click resounding as the jam was worked out. He raised it in time for the wolf to grab it from his hand, flinging it across the room and under the bed. Red put his hands up as the wolf lunged at him, but was pushed aside by a strong, yet thin, hand that shot out from behind him. He was thrown into the dresser near the door, the drawers rattling in their tracks as a gray-haired woman stood framed in the doorway, a shotgun in her hand. Without a word she took aim and fired, spraying the wolf in the face with hot lead. With a howl, the wolf stumbled back and fell onto the bed.

Red didn’t move. He was staring at the figure in the doorway. Without a doubt it was the woman he’d been sent to find. She looked to be a grandmotherly type, her hair tied in a tight bun and glasses on her face. But her clothing told a different story: A sleeveless black shirt and arm braces, dog tags hanging from her neck, and dark brown cargo pants hid steel toed boots resembling Red’s. Her face was easily wrinkled, but pulled into a serious scowl, and from her belt, a holster gave shelter to a handgun.

“Been waitin’ for ya, Red.” She said, moving to investigate the motionless form on the bed. “When I heard somethin’ at the door, thought it’d be you. Glad I keep suspicious, or I’d been caught off guard entirely.”

“Paranoia can save your life.” Red nodded. The old woman turned to him.

“This damned werewolf’s been a bother to these parts for years.” She sighed. “Interceptin’ our people, killin’ ‘em... Finally got the creep taken care of. Thanks to you, Red.” She put her hand out, and Red took it in turn. “You got your delivery?”

“Downstairs.” Red started to the door. “I haven’t been told what the mainframes are for, though.”

“You’ll see soon enough.” The old woman put her hand on Red’s shoulder, leading him to the kitchen through the house, grabbing the bag he had set in the chair upon his arrival. In the kitchen, the woman requested Red to move the refrigerator out from its cubby between a counter and sink, and when he did, pulling it out into the middle of the room, it revealed a set of silver sliding doors. The woman stepped forward and grabbed her dog tags, fitting the faces into a set of imprints at the side of the door. A yellow light flickered on beside them, and the doors opened with a hiss.

She and Red stepped inside, and with the press of a button, one of a pair painted with an arrow pointing down, the elevator shuddered to life.

“You’ve heard of the Lumberjack Corner?” The woman asked as they waited for the doors to open again.

“Yes. I’ve been recruited by a freelancer working for the Corner, to deliver these mainframes here to the base.” Red indicated the bag around his wrist. “But I haven’t been told much else.”

“Not to worry.” The old woman paused as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. “With your abilities, you’ll be our best asset.”

Red looked out. A long corridor lit with a pale blue glow stretched on before him, but it wasn’t empty. A huge man, black hair and broad shoulders, blocked the hallway, holding a gun in his hand that was equipped with a long, curved blade that resembled an axe. He trained his small, dark eyes on Red.

“Welcome.” He said, taking Red’s hand in greeting. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Red.”

“That’s nice.” Red handed over the wicker and leather bag. “Wish I could say the same for you.”
“Well, my boy, you’ll learn.” The man scratched his face, running a hand through the heavy beard that hid most of it. “You’ll be important to us, as well as these mainframes.”

“What would they help you with?”

The man smiled, leading Red and the old woman down the hall. “We’ve managed to hook several dozen werewolves of the forest with tracking chips, delivered into their body by dart guns. These updated mainframes will allow us to track and dispose of the wolves while discovering and tagging more.”

“Red,” the old woman looked at him. “You’re an amazing fighter by the look of what you’ve accomplished. We need you here. You’ll be our one and only hunter. If you’d like to.”

Red looked at the floor. It was dark blue tile that gave back the glow from the ceiling. “I can’t kill wolves without weapons.”

“They’ll be supplied as you need them.” The old woman said. “Top of the line, technology created and used strictly by the Lumberjack Corner.”

After a moment of thought, Red nodded. “I don’t have much to go back to anyway. I don’t see why not.”

The older ones gave Red approving words and looks, nodding to one another. The hallway ended and expanded into a rounded room. The entire back wall was filled with flat screens and surveillance feeds, some switching from one scene to another, others depicting areas of the forest from shots high and low. A few gave images of the base itself, including one of the hallway they had just come down. The activity level was high, with men and women walking through the area, moving from one wing to the other, carrying papers, boxes, sometimes wheeling covered cages.

The old woman led Red to the right. “C’mon, boy. We got a lot of fitting to do for your new uniform.” She looked back to find him rolling the frayed edge of his red cloak. “Not to worry, though, Red, we won’t take your cape. It’s your signature now.”

“Signature?”

“‘Course. You’re a wolf hunter, Red. You need something to stand out in the woods.”

This works well into a short-story deal as an introduction or even an ending to a novel, to emphasized his name, but I would definitely not use it on its own because it is not in depth. The shallowness would be perfect, I think, as an epilogue.

I was a little disappointed with the cliche choice of words between them, but you have got my attention with those little details. I am interested in why wolf howls do not echo. ^.^

Might want to move it to Writing Discussion/Story Help - Menewsha