The Rider of Rosewood
Rosalind of Rosewood

“Hey mom, I’m almost there, the bus got stuck in traffic on the interstate, so we’re going to be a bit late. I should make it to Gran’s house by dinner. I know you’re busy, but please call me back,” Rosalind ended the voicemail. Who was she kidding? Her mother was never going to call back.

She let out a long sigh as she fiddled with her locket, the only gift her mom had ever given her. She must have thought it would somehow make up for the fact that she was always running off, without notice, leaving her daughter to fend for herself. She clenched the locket in her fist. She wasn’t sure why she still wore it. Her mother would never change; she knew that now. Rosalind didn’t want to think about her mother’s negligence anymore. She closed her eyes and slept for the rest of the drive.

“Alright everybody, this is the last stop!” The bus driver called out.

Rosalind made sure she was the first person to step off the bus. She was immediately greeted by a crisp autumn breeze that tousled her hair and raised goosebumps along her arms. The wind whistled a happy melody as if it was celebrating her return. It was good to be home.

Since her mother had first run off when she was a child, Rosalind had lived in the town of Rosewood with her Gran. Last year, her mom appeared on their doorstep without warning. She gave a long, tearful confession about what a terrible mother she had been. She said she was sorry for leaving and that things would be different. It was all a lie.

Gran had tried to warn her, but Rosalind didn’t listen. She wanted to believe things could change. Gran was right about everything. Now she was back at Rosewood and nothing could make her leave it again. She hoped she could convince Gran to take her back.

She quickly grabbed her luggage and began her walk to Gran’s house. She had walked down this trail more times than she could count. Usually, she’d be greeted by the sound of high-pitched trilling and whistling from a chorus of birds, and animals would frolic along the forest path, but today the forest was eerily silent.

There was a wooden sign with the words BEWARE OF WOLF! spray-painted across it, nailed to a tree. She took a step closer and noticed claw marks carved into the base of the tree. She didn’t know of any creature big enough to make marks like those. She was starting to feel unsafe out here all alone.

A loud crash sounded from the woods. She quickened her pace. Why was she nervous? She’s hiked this trail hundreds of times and never seen anything scarier than a woodchuck.

She let out a high-pitched shriek as she bumped into someone on the road.

“Hey! Watch it!” Three boys in their early twenties wearing all black leather blocked her path. She had been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed them standing there. She gazed up to get a better view of the man she had bumped into. He had dark brown spiky hair, cold hazel eyes, and a piercing on his bottom lip.

Rosalind tried to regain her composure. “I’m sorry for bumping into you, I should probably get out of your way.” She attempted to maneuver her way around them, but they continued to block her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the middle of the woods all alone?” a scrawny boy with greasy shoulder-length hair asked, looking her up and down.

“Stop being creepy, Heath!” The boy with the lip piercing elbowed him in the stomach.

“Come on, Chandler, I’m just asking a question. Am I not allowed to ask questions anymore?” The scrawny boy clutched his stomach as he recovered from the blow.

“Shut up, Heath!” the boy named Chandler said.

Rosalind forced a smile and tried her hardest to hide her discomfort. “I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house.”

“It doesn’t matter why you’re here because either way, we can’t let you through,” Chandler stated with a scowl on his face. He stood up taller and crossed his arms in a defensive posture to illustrate his point.

“What? You need to let me through!” she protested.

Chandler inched closer. “Are we gonna have a problem?” he growled in her face. His breath stank of tobacco.

“Back off!” The third boy spoke up for the first time. He was a tall, slender boy with dark skin and curly hair. “If her grandmother lives in the forest, maybe she has some information that would be valuable to our cause.”

“Hey, Boss said that I’d be the one calling the shots!“Chandler argued.

His eyes shot daggers at Chandler. “Our boss also said to retrieve any possible leads.”

Chandler cursed under his breath. He glanced back and forth between the boy and Rosalind, then eventually said, “Fine!” The third boy stepped forward to question her.

“Don’t even think about lying!” Heath called out. “Duke has a sixth sense about these things.”

Duke glared at Heath and began the interrogation. “Do you happen to know anything about a wolf that lives in these woods?”

“It’s a large forest. I’m sure plenty of wolves live here,” she replied.

Duke flipped through his notes. He pulled out a night vision photograph of a massive wolf with blood dripping down its mouth. “I’m referring to one supersized wolf. This beast has been terrorizing a local farm. It’s already eaten three of their pigs. Have you heard about it?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about this,” she admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you were in Rosewood?”

“Roughly six months ago,” Rosalind answered.

“Where have you been since then?” he questioned.

“I’ve been living in Manhattan with my mom.” These questions were getting much too personal for her comfort. “Can I go now?”

His amber eyes pierced through her dark brown ones. “Are you positive you don’t know anything about the wolf?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Duke handed her a business card with a phone number and the words, The Silver Huntsmen, written on it. “Call us if you replace any information about the wolf, for the safety of everyone in Rosewood.”

“Yeah, sure.” She stuffed the card in her pocket and made a run for it, almost bumping into Chandler a second time.

What a bunch of creeps! What even is a Silver Huntsman? Are they some sort of animal control? Her stomach tied itself into knots. Whoever they were, she hoped she wouldn’t run into them again for a long time. She didn’t stop running until she reached her grandmother’s doorstep.

Gran lived in a small log cabin on the outskirts of Rosewood. She spent most of her time conducting experiments on the local plant life. She refused to share any of the details of her research with anyone. Most of the town thought she was crazy. They were probably right, Gran had a tendency to ramble about the most bizarre things.

A steady stream of smoke flowed from the chimney. The sound of pots and pans clashing together came from inside the house. Gran was definitely home.

Rosalind let out a nervous sigh. She had no idea how she was going to convince Gran to let her stay with her again. She should start with an apology for leaving. She gently knocked on the door.

“Get lost, wolf!” Gran shouted from the other side of the door.

She rolled her eyes, “It’s me, Rosalind.”

“You can’t fool me, dumb mutt!” the old woman shouted.

“Come on, Gran, let me in.”

The old woman cracked open the door and peered through the opening. Rosalind put on the friendliest smile she could muster. “See, it’s just me. No wolves here.”

Gran hesitated for a few moments, then opened the door. Then she began repeatedly tapping her on the head with a wooden spoon. “So you think you can show up on my doorstep after leaving me all alone for six months and magically make everything better? Well, you’re wrong!” She slammed the door in her face.

She had thought this might happen, Luckily she had a secret weapon. “I brought you donuts.”

Gran opened the door once again. “Come in.”

The inside of the cabin smelled like it always did. The scent of sage and cloves along with something else she couldn’t quite place drifted through the air. The small kitchen was always cluttered. It appeared to have gotten worse since Rosalind left.

Rosalind pulled the box of donuts out of her backpack. Gran pressed the box up to her nose, taking a deep whiff of the sweet aroma. “So, how’s your mom?”

“You were right, Gran, she hasn’t changed a bit.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said with her mouth full of donuts. Gran was a petite woman who stood at only 4′10, but for what she lacked in height she made up for in ferocity.

“Listen, I’m really sorry I left you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help make up for it.”

“You can start by delivering this to the neighbors.” Gran grabbed a bottle full of a ruby-colored liquid off of the table. “They’ll know what it is.” Rosalind accepted the bottle.

She pushed Rosalind out the door. “What are you waiting for? Go! I need to start making supper.” Gran was very adamant about having space while she was working.

“Alright, I’m going!” Rosalind chuckled as Gran pushed her out the door.

The leaves had turned to vibrant shades of orange and auburn. Rosewood in the autumn was truly a sight to behold. A small stone path wound through the forest. At the end of the path stood a secluded house, almost completely hidden from the rest of the world. Outside the house, stood a man dressed in camouflage. He glared at a deer passing through the woods as he took a gulp of his drink.

She waved at him. “Hi, Mr. Fowler.”

He smiled. “Hey, Rosalind, long time no see. Your grandmother called and told me you’d be stopping by.”

She was about to hand him the bottle when a new bow and a quiver filled with arrows caught her eye. He gave her an approving nod. “I bet you haven’t shot one of those in a while.”

She nodded. Mr. Fowler had been teaching her archery since she was eight. Gran wouldn’t let her fire a hunting rifle, so this was a fair compromise. She had gotten rather good at it over the years.

He glanced at the door. “I have plans tonight, but if you want to stop by tomorrow, I’ll let you try it out.”

She beamed. “Thank you. I’ve gotten rusty and need the practice.”

There was a rustling sound coming from the forest behind them. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Could it be the wolf? She spun around to face the sound. Two squirrels scurried out from behind a tree. She let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Hey, Rosalind, are you alright? You look pretty spooked.”

“Did you hear about the giant wolf?” she asked.

He frowned. “Come inside.”

The walls were adorned with the stuffed heads of the animals he’d hunted over the years, including deer, moose, coyotes, a bobcat, and even a black bear, but not a single wolf.

He showed off several strings of barbed wire covered in fur and blood. ” It looks like our little friend got caught in one of my traps last night, but somehow it got through.”

The sight of the bloody wires and the thoughts of a man-eating wolf made her stomach churn.

“You don’t have anything to worry about.” Mr. Fowler sensed her discomfort and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll kill that beast soon enough.”

“Don’t let him scare you. There are no wolves in Rosewood, especially not gigantic man-eating ones.” said a stranger sitting at the dining room table, almost completely hidden behind several stacks of books. “Wolves aren’t native to this part of the country, they travel in groups and most importantly they don’t eat humans. It’s most likely a rabid dog.”

“It isn’t a dog! Someone got a picture of it this time, it’s a wolf!” Mr. Fowler argued.

The stranger stood up and sighed. He was a boy about her age. He had neatly styled, platinum blonde hair and wore a slim-fitting navy blue jacket. The most notable thing about him were his pale blue eyes. Something about them was strange yet lovely at the same time.“That doesn’t prove anything! The photograph could have easily been photoshopped. I think they’re trying to scare us.”

Mr. Fowler rolled his eyes. “Rosalind, this is my stepson.”

“Theo Lovell,” he introduced himself. “Believe me, you don’t have to be afraid of any wolf.” People kept telling her not to be afraid, but their reassurance didn’t calm her nerves.

A blonde woman in a jade cocktail dress strutted across the floor. She linked arms with Mr. Fowler and batted her eyelashes. “Are you ready for dinner? If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss our reservation.”

He wrapped an arm around her. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Theo eyed his cargo pants and camouflage hoodie. “You’re not even going to try to make yourself look nice?”

The woman glared at Theo, then tugged on the strings of her husband’s sweatshirt. “I think he looks handsome.”

Mr. Fowler cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Charlotte.”

“Since when are you married?” Rosalind asked.

He gazed longingly at the woman wrapped in his arms. “We met not long after you left. It was love at first sight.” Theo didn’t even try to hide his disdain for the couple.

Charlotte snatched the bottle of liquid from Rosalind’s hands. She had almost completely forgotten why she had come here in the first place. Charlotte placed the bottle in a cabinet filled top to bottom with bottles of varied sizes and filled with brightly colored liquids, then handed Rosalind a check. “Please tell your grandmother I said thank you.”

Rosalind returned to Gran’s cabin. Nothing particularly interesting happened for the rest of the evening. She ate her dinner, unpacked her things, then went to bed. Her room was exactly the way she left it. She would have expected Gran to turn it into a gym or something while she was gone. It’s like Gran somehow knew she’d come back. She rolled over to the other side of the bed. She didn’t want to think about her mother right now. She wanted to go to sleep.

Around 5:30, she was startled by a loud crash coming from the kitchen. She tiptoed out of bed and down the small hallway. As she inched towards the kitchen, chills crawled up her spine. “Hey Gran, are you alright?” She called out.

No response.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Gran was probably sleepwalking again, or maybe a raccoon got in the house. She crept into the kitchen.

That was definitely not a raccoon. Standing on top of the table was a man-sized wolf, and it was staring right at her.