Chapter 1

Why does the wolf howl at the moon?

No seriously, why do dogs do that? I've never actually decided to use the internet for a good purpose, so, why does the wolf howl? Maybe my grandmother knows. Not exactly sure if she would know… been awhile since I've seen her. Grandma lives up in the mountains about a few hours by car, but dad always insisted we take the two day hike. For a whole summer I camped off the cliffs of the mountain watching nature before my very eyes. It was beautiful. Why would I ever need to look something up on the internet? Especially when there's so much happening around me. Besides, there's no service there anyway.

Grandma doesn't live with phones or computers. She has one tiny television with non-stop cooking tv shows and a toaster oven to heat up her left overs. She was always a country gal and nothing but the wild could tame her. My grandmother was tough and delicate all at the same time. She could cook anything from scratch and feed an army with it. My grandmother, she's my hero…

"Come here sweetheart." My grandmother said calling me.

"Yes Grandma?" I said sitting on her lap.

"I have a very special gift for you." She said reaching next to her chair. We were in her sewing room just in the back of her house. I was passing by to see what she was up to when she called me in. My father was out fishing while my brother was working on a bear trap.

I was ten years old when my grandmother gave me my most prized possession. She pulled out a large rectangular box with a bow. The box was navy blue with two large white stars next to a white ribbon .

"I won't be able to give it to you on your birthday so while you're here, Grandma would like to see you open it. Go on, open it." She smiled resting the present on my lap.

"I guess so." I laughed.

"Go ahead open it." She gestured to the box again holding a strong excitement toward the gift.

I pulled the white ribbon hearing the silk snap. I pried the lid and dug past the color paper to find a brilliant red radiating from my lap. I touched the cloth feeling the soft material at my fingertips. I could smell lavender coming off of it with the small scent of peppermint that might have been Grandma.

"It's a button down hooded cloak you can wear when you're in the woods, so Grandma and your daddy or your brother can find you when you're lost." She explained.

"It's a hoodie?" I asked, clarifying what the gift was.

"It's a button down cloak." She smiled.

I jumped off her lap, the box falling to the ground. I threw the cloak around myself feeling the cloth drape over my small body. "Oh! It's too big." She adjusted it, "I can make it smaller-"

"No! I like it like this." I hollard. "I'll grow into it!" I flew with the cloak down the hallway feeling it wave behind me. I wore it for years and never took it off. The cloak was me and I was the cloak. It had three red buttons going down my right side and multiple hidden pockets that I'd fill with candy. It was my Red Hood and no one could tell me otherwise. From then on, I was known as Red.

"Why do you wear that hood everyday?" Said a bully one day at lunch.

"I like it." I responded quietly picking up my second chocolate custard cake.

"You're going to get fat eating just sweets." He muttered.

I looked at the boy before making my next move. He wasn't very tall and he had bad acne on his chin. I knew who he was easily, his name was James Dolton and he was never very nice to anyone. So as he poked fun at my beautiful red hood and my amazing dessert I simply looked him straight in the eyes and took a bite of the custard.

"Taste great, want some?" I held it out to him as he pulled away.

"Pig." He said walking off.

"Filthy mutt." I said as a comeback.

James turned, "What did you call me?"

"You're a gross big dirty dog that ruins everything." I said angrily.

"Yeah, and I eat smelly pigs like you."

"Well my brother will build me a brick wall and my father will chop you up. And if I'm a pig how come you have custard on your face?"

"I don't-" I threw my custard as it slid down his left eye and across his lips.

"Custard Face!" I yelled and the school turned toward the commotion.

James Dolton was forever "Custard Face". It wasn't until he moved sophomore year did we forget about it. I never saw him again and my hood only made me a signature in my class. I became popular in a different way than how most would. I made goodies often from my grandmother's recipe book and gave out bountifuls at lunch. I was good at science and athletic in sports. School was easy and college is mellow, but where I really wanted to be was back on the mountains with my grandmother.

I wonder if she is okay up there…