Red Hood by Elana K. Arnold

Author:Elana K. Arnold [Arnold, Elana K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Published: 2020-02-24T18:30:00+00:00

The Wolf Behowls the Moon.

—A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM

As I ran, the hook in my chest pulled tighter, as if the line that pulled me reeled in. And though it was dark, and though I did not know the path I took, I did not stumble. I did not fall.

I ran, my throat thick with fear. And then I heard a scream, and then I heard it end. I knew it was Laura, and I knew I was too late to save her.

A wolf hunched over her, its pelt as white as moonlight. Its hips shuddered as it feasted on her throat, as it tore her breast.

I smelled the iron of her blood. I smelled the heat of the wolf’s breath. And then it turned its head toward where I stood, underneath a tall fir tree, and it pinned me with its eyes—blue, mean, smart.

And when it turned back to its feast as if I was of no consequence, no concern, my fear shifted to anger. I stormed toward the wolf, I screamed as I ran, but then it was off, so fast, and though I chased it, though I ran faster and harder than I ever had, it disappeared.

There was nothing to do but return to Laura’s body, and pick her up, and carry her home.

A girl in my dorm heard me calling from outside, and she turned on the lights to find me standing with Laura in my arms. She screamed and woke up the others, and someone called an ambulance, and someone called the police, and then we were swarmed by men—police officers and emergency responders. Someone must have called the dean because soon he was there, too, in striped pajamas and a dark blue robe.

They took Laura to the hospital, for an autopsy, I supposed, as no one there could save her. And they took me to the police station, still in blood-soaked clothes.

At one point, Laura’s family came in—her father, mother, a redheaded little boy who was maybe ten years old. They were shuttled right past me, into a room with a closed door. The boy looked at me until the door was shut, and I couldn’t help but feel that I had failed him. That, somehow, I had failed them all.

The officers’ questions became an interrogation.

Why hadn’t Laura been in her bed?

I didn’t know.

Why had I woken in the night?

I couldn’t recall . . . the moonlight, perhaps?

How had I found her there, in the forest?

I heard her scream.

But why had I gone in that direction? How had I known which way to go?

I didn’t know. Maybe because another girl had been found dead there just a month before?

It was a white wolf? With blue eyes? That sounds strange.

Yes, I told them. It was strange.

The questions carried through the night, and finally someone thought to offer me different clothes, though all they had were men’s sweatpants and a worn shirt, which I changed into. My bloodstained clothes disappeared in a plastic bag and were taken—where? A

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