Red riding cloak

Her sweet pink lips were curved into a smile, her face glowing with innocence as Mary glided- for that was the only word for it- over the fallen branches and leaves of the fall, her sweet hips swaying unconsciously with every movement. She had just turned 18, but her mind was that of a young girl, not because of any dissability, but because she had lived her life with only her mother, and visiting her grandmama, therefore only knew of things like skipping, singing, and such peaceful activities.She was out to see her Grandmother, who her mother had told her was ill. Her amber eyes glanced down at her picnic basket, all nice, neat and ready for her- with breadsticks, and goat milk. She did a little skip, causing her skirt to flare out, and she hummed a little tune under her breath. It was then she spotted the flowers- and such gorgeous ones there were. Red, yellow blue- oh, how grandmama would love them, she thoguht longingly.

Mother told me not to stop on the way, she reflected, then shook her head shortly. Her Mama had not told her not to stop to pick flowers. She smiled yet again, causing her red curls to bounce with the movement. Aye, these flowers would chase her Grandmothers sickness away! She thought proudly, as she slowly picked her way through the flowers, picking a few with loving care.

Her small, pert breasts were quite obvious against the simple red cloth dress, the same shade as her hair, that her Papa had tailered for her one time long ago. Now, it was all she wore, and with her crimson curls, she had gained the name Red Riding. She didn't understand it- nor did she understand why the men in the village seemed gawk when she was around. The sweet eightteen year old stretched, one hand holding the multicolored flowers tightly in her fist, then began to hum a song to herself that had something to do with a blue jay.

It was then when she heard the bushes rustiling, and she turned quickly, wondering to herself if it was a great, fearsome creature.