Are you cozy, little one? Good, because tonight's story has a little bit of sneakiness in it — but don't worry, I promise you, Grandma is tougher than she looks.
Grandma's cottage sat at the end of a sunny lane, its chimney puffing a little curl of smoke, its garden absolutely glowing with sunflowers taller than Red herself. Grandma was resting in bed that morning, wrapped in her favourite quilt, sipping warm ginger tea for her cough, when — knock, knock, knock — someone rapped politely on her door.
"Who is it?" called Grandma, pulling her shawl tighter.
Now, our sly Wolf, panting from his run but already smoothing down his fur and straightening his little green waistcoat, cleared his throat and did his very best impression of a cheerful young girl's voice. It was not, my darling, a very good impression. It came out rather deep and growly, like a voice with a bad cold, several sizes too big for a little girl.
"It's me, Grandma! Red Riding Hood! I've brought you bread and honey!"
Grandma, who had lived a good long life and met all sorts of forest creatures in her day, raised one eyebrow. That did not sound like her granddaughter at all. It sounded, if anything, like a wolf trying extremely hard not to sound like a wolf.
But Grandma was clever too — even cleverer than the Wolf realized — and instead of shouting "Go away, you silly wolf!" (which might only make him run off and try something worse), she called out sweetly, "Oh, how lovely! The door's unlatched, dear — just lift the little wooden latch and come on in!"
The Wolf, delighted at how easy this was turning out to be, pushed open the door with his snout... and found himself facing not a frightened old lady, but Grandma standing tall in her nightgown, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised so high it nearly touched her nightcap.
"Well now," said Grandma, not even the tiniest bit frightened. "You must be the fellow who's been eyeing my sunflower garden. I thought I smelled forest on the wind this morning."
The Wolf froze, one paw still on the door.
"I—ah—that is—" he stammered, all his cleverness momentarily forgotten.
"Don't you 'ah' me," said Grandma, hands on her hips. "I've dealt with far cleverer creatures than you, young wolf. Foxes. Bears with sweet tooths. Once, a very rude badger who ate my entire pumpkin patch. Now — what exactly are you after? My bread? My honey? Or —" here her voice grew sterner — "are you thinking of causing trouble for my granddaughter?"
The Wolf, caught fair and square, thought fast. He was clever, remember, and even a clever wolf knows when a plan needs adjusting. "I mean no true harm, madam," he said, bowing low, tail drooping just a little. "I only wished to... borrow your cottage. Just for a little while. To play a small trick on your granddaughter. Nothing unkind — simply a game of surprise, that's all, I do so love a good game."
Grandma tapped her foot, thinking hard. "Absolutely not," she said firmly. "You may turn right around and—"
"But madam," the Wolf interrupted smoothly, already spotting his chance, "you look simply exhausted. That cough of yours! Why not rest somewhere truly comfortable while we sort this out? I noticed your pantry through that gap in the door — cushioned window seat, lovely and warm, shelves of jam close at hand. Much cozier than this draughty bedroom. Just step in and rest a moment, and we'll discuss my little game properly."
Now, Grandma was rather tired, and her pantry was awfully cozy, and — well, my little dreamer, even the cleverest grandmothers can be caught by a clever enough wolf. She stepped through the pantry door to test the cushioned seat...
Click!
The Wolf, quick as a wink, swung the sturdy oak door shut and slid the little brass bolt across.
"AH-HA!" he cried, delighted with himself, pressing one paw triumphantly to his chest. "Not so clever after all, eh, madam?"
From inside the pantry came a very unimpressed voice. "You sneaky, sneaky creature. Let me out this instant!"
"Just until my little game is done," called the Wolf cheerfully, already pulling Grandma's spare nightgown and lacy cap down from a hook by the door and tugging them on over his fur. "I promise you're perfectly safe in there — cushions, jam, a lovely view of the lane. I am not an unkind wolf. Simply a... very clever one."
Grandma banged once, twice, on the sturdy door — but it did not budge. Then, being a grandmother who had outsmarted foxes, bears, and one very rude badger in her day, she stopped banging and started thinking instead.
There was, she remembered, a small round window in the pantry — just the right size for a bluebird. And sure enough, when she tapped gently on the glass, a little blue bird who'd been resting on the sunflowers outside cocked her head with interest.
"Bluebird, dear bluebird," Grandma whispered urgently through the glass, "will you do an old friend a very important favour? Fly to the woodcutter's cottage, quick as you can, and tell him Granny Rose needs help — a wolf has gotten into her house, and her granddaughter is on her way!"
The bluebird gave one sharp, understanding chirp and shot off into the sky like a little blue arrow.
Grandma settled back onto her cushions, took a comforting spoonful of blackberry jam, and allowed herself one small, satisfied smile. She was locked in her own pantry, yes. But help was already on its way — and that wolf, clever as he thought he was, had absolutely no idea.
Sweet dreams, little one. Tomorrow night, Red finally reaches the cottage — and discovers that "Grandma" is looking rather different today. Big ears. Big eyes. Big teeth. But don't you worry one bit, my brave little listener — help is already flying through the forest, faster than any wolf can run.