There were things people, especially young children, shouldn't know. Things that one such young child did know. Elsie Connell was five years old. She had bright green eyes, and the kind of energy that wore her parents out. That wasn't all, no, the girl knew things. Inherently. Things she ought not know. Things that were dangerous for her to know. Things that were dangerous not just to her own health, but to the health of her family. 

The trouble was that at five years old little Elsie didn't know the difference. All the little girl did know was that she preferred to not brush her hair, or her teeth for that matter. Neither of which seemed to have any effect on her innate ability to create what many would call prophecies. 

It all started then, when she was five. Dark hair in a matt, she sat with her nose wrinkled as she drew with her crayons a picture of her much beloved family. There was her mother, and her big brother, and her father. She was so proud of this family portrait that she gave it to her father, Tamesis Connell.

He was in turn so proud of her that he kept it with him always. Always included when he passed through the gate into the Provinces. Which was where he worked, doing what, he never told his family. It was on one such trip that he was missing his family especially bad, and decided to pull out the drawing his little girl had made him. Dark eyes fell upon the sloppy lines. For a moment he thought it was his imagination, a trick of the light. Surely he hadn't seen what he thought he had. For that would be impossible. 

So the aged man rubbed his eyes, and looked once more. There could be no mistake, the pictures were moving. The stick figures on the rumpled, and beaten piece of paper were moving about as if they were alive. 

This sort of thing wasn't normal, even in a world of fairytales. Seers were rare, and those whose visions manifested in this way were even rarer. Needless to say, but it'll be said anyways, Tamesis wasn't exactly sure what he held in his hands. He wasn't exactly sure what this meant for his daughter either. So he did what any curious and loving father would do, well any curious and loving father from the Provinces, he went to see a witch. 

Seeing a witch was what any normal person in the Provinces did when they had something magical they couldn't explain. Witches were plentiful sources for magical information, and they weren't likely to turn you out for something unethical like Fairy Godmothers. So witches were widely used for this purpose, and it suited them just fine. 

The witch Tamesis decided to go see was actually an old friend. A very old friend. From the time when he was known quite widely as the big bad wolf. She had been the one to tell him about the prophecy involving himself and his now wife. She had been the one to change it for him. To adjust the balance in his favor. She wasn't above doing something a little underhanded for the right price. He also knew she would keep this quiet. He didn't need the world knowing his little girl was a seer. 

The place where this witch lived was a house on the top of a piece of land that had been eroded so badly it looked like an island floating several stories in the air. The only way to get to this island was by boat. The only way to get to the house was by the long row of stairs that magic had carved into the eroded earth. Thus the old wolf drug himself up the stairs, and to the door of the witch, rapping loudly. 

The door swung open, and in a smooth voice the witch called from inside, "Come in. And do shut the door behind you Tamesis, I don't need the draft."

He was no longer surprised she knew who it was before she even saw him. A person got used to the habits of witches when they spent enough time with them. He kicked the door shut, and followed the sounds of movement into a large open room with a vat in the center. Tamesis always wondered what it was for, but he never asked. He saw her bright red hair, in it's usual wavy mass before he saw her. 

"I suppose you're not here about ordering a love potion," she offered fiery brows raising in mild interest. The wolf always tended to wonder if she knew before he said the reason he'd come. 

"No, no love potions today. I can hardly handle the woman I've got." She didn't laugh. He hadn't really expected her to. She wasn't much the joking sort. All business. "It's this," he offered pulling the folded piece of paper from his pocket once more. The movement flickered across the page still, and he tried not to look at it because he found it slightly unsettling. 

"Where did you get this," she asked, setting down what she was working on, and snatching it from him immediately blue eyes wide with interest. 

There was a growl on the man's lips, but he swallowed it. It wouldn't do to growl at a witch, least of all this one. "My daughter drew it. What is it?"

"It's a prophecy, obviously." He rolled his eyes, but her eyes weren't on him. They were flitting across the crayon drawing. Examining it. Turning it over and over in her hands. As if she thought it was a trick. 

He waited several minutes before he let his impatience get the better of him. Then he'd had enough. "Well what does it mean," he asked impatiently. 

"It means your daughter is a seer obviously. But I'm assuming you mean what does the prophecy say. In that case, it says quite simply that your daughter is going to one day revolt and kill you. Smite your evilness, as it were. Can I keep this?" She pointed to the drawing in her hand as she said it. 

Tamesis stumbled over his answer. That had not been what he was expecting. He choked a little on the words attempting to make their way up his throat, there were too many of them. They were all fighting to get out.  And not a one of them was winning. Not a single one of them was able to make it to the top of his throat in order to get out, and make its way to her. The witch just looked at him with bright brows raised in expectation. She seemed perfectly ready to wait for him to figure out where his voice had gone. 

Finally something did reach the top, "what should I do about it?" We'll at least it was something useful. If she had any suggestions they would no doubt be helpful. For currently all his mind could comprehend was disbelief. 

"Personally?" She asked brows raising impossibly higher as if to ask if he really wanted to know. His only response to this silent question was a nod. "I'd have the little brat killed. You've got a spare." She shrugged as if the answer were perfectly obvious. 

The wolf stood with his back a little straighter all of the sudden. His muscles tense. The very idea of killing one of his offspring went against every instinct he had. However, that did not make the suggestion any less reasonable. It was perfectly sound. The logic was beyond argument. If it was to happen, he must surely do something about it. Her pale eyes had turned back to the picture she wasn't even watching him as he sunk down into a chair covered in worn and beaten scrolls. 

When he had gotten back to the city, he had made up his mind. He was going to do it. He had no choice really. He had fought too hard, and too long for his position to let even his own child ruin it. The way he saw it, he hadn't a choice, he had never had a choice, and he probably never would. This was what needed to happen. 

Of course hiring the right person would be the rub. Someone who wouldn't think too much on what they were being asked to do. Someone who wouldn't mind doing something so awful. Of course Tamesis Connell hadn't been given the title of The Big Bad Wolf for nothing. No, he had been given that title for his sneaky, and underhanded ways, and due to those ways he knew a great number of sneaky, and underhanded people. People who were willing to do just about anything for the right price. Usually these people wanted their payment in magic though, which was always more difficult to acquire. And he had to be sure to not let them realize that the thing they were after was magical in and of itself. 

So he hired a crew, not just one would do. None were told more than they needed knowing. None seemed to have any trouble at all with the idea of killing a little girl, even if it was their boss's little girl. The trouble with a crew was that the more people who knew about something, the less likely it was to stay secret. That was how his wife found out about what he was planning. 

Tamesis's wife had always been much keener than she was ever given credit for. Little Red Riding Hood was dim witted, and oblivious in the stories, but in real life she was someone very different. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and got it. At that particular moment she wanted nothing more than to protect her daughter. So she did what any good mother of the fairy tale variety would do, she went see her fairy godmother. The older woman lived in a small cottage in The Wild. Little Red had always referred to her comfortably as Granny. It was a familiar term that made them seem like family, and made Red feel like she belonged. 

Granny had always advised against marrying Tamesis, she said he was no good, but no one had ever been able to tell Red what to do. That time had been no different. However, it didn't change the fact that Red trusted her Granny above all else, and so went to her in this dark hour. 

The plan was hatched quickly, the little girl was to be stolen away in the night, and brought deep in the Wild to Granny's cabin. There Granny would raise her, and none would be the wiser. It was the only way. 

Elsie still remembered it vaguely. Tiny hands were curled tightly around her blanket to keep it tucked underneath her chin as the little girl slept. Her mother snuck quietly into the room, and lifted her slight form. The little girl woke up, but for a moment. She blinked blurrily up at her mother, but when Red raised a finger to her lips, Elsie remained quiet as a mouse. She didn't know what was going on, but the pinched look about her mother's face convinced her she needed to do as told. Once they had reached Cental Park Red sat her daughter on her bare feet, and knelt before her. "We are going to play a game little one," she whispered, but Elsie remembered clearly thinking this game didn't sound very fun if it caused her mother to look so upset. "We are going to go and hide with Granny for the time being, it'll be fun. We can make cookies, and bird watch." She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than the tiny dark haired girl. 

Elsie only nodded. She didn't feel it right to tell her mother that she didn't want to stay at Granny's. That the old lady smelled funny, and that she always wanted to make oatmeal cookies when Elsie hated oatmeal. Her mother lifted her once more into her arms, and they made their way to the Gate. A dilapidated old door frame with stained glass was the Gate into the fairy tale world. It was burried deep in Central Park where hardly any mundane folk would find it. But for those who knew where it was, it was easy enough to find. Upon stepping through the Gate the world didn't really look much different. You entered from a forest, and you can out on the other side in a forest. Of course there was a subtle difference of color, the colors in the fairy tale world always seemed much more vibrant when compared to the grayness of New York City. Of course one couldn't tell in the nighttime, in the dark the difference was that the Wild seemed that much darker when compared to its mundane counterpart. Likely because of the lack of electricity, but Else wasn't thinking about any of that.

Instead the little girl was clinging tightly to her mother, and trying to ignore the sounds she heard in the distance of pursuit. Granny's was even deeper into the Wild than the little girl had ever been with her father. So deep in fact that Elsie could not pick up the scent of any humans other than herself, her mother, and her Granny. The sounds of pursuit had somehow faded into the distance. But since the little girl didn't know what was going on, she found it hard to feel safety in that knowledge. 

Granny opened the door to her cottage smiling warmly at the bundled woman, and the little girl in her arms. "Hello there." There was something forced about her cheerfulness, but Elsie didn't catch it. 

Red wasted no time in scurrying into the little cottage. Granny shut the door behind them, waving a wand over it to seal it. "I won't be staying with you Elsie, you have to promise to be good for Granny until I can get back."

"But I don't want to stay with Granny, I want to go with you mommy," it was the first protest the little girl had uttered. She didn't want to stay here in the tiny cottage with her stinky grandma. She wanted to go on whatever wild adventure her mother was going on. She didn't want to be alone with the old woman who hardly understood her. And she wanted to go home. She wanted to go home to her daddy, and Corbin. 

"I know baby, but you can't. I have some things I have to do, some things I have to take care of. And then I will be back for you, I promise. I will be back, and you can come and stay with me. Until then," she said taking off her red cloak, and draping it over the tiny girl's shoulders. "Will you promise to take good care of this for me? I'll need it when I come back, but until then you wear it like a big girl ok?" 

Elsie nodded, but she was still looking rather glum. Red thought fast. She had to think of something to get that look off the little girl's face, otherwise she knew that Elsie would be nothing but trouble for the old fairy godmother. "And this," she said pulling off the old spoon ring, Granny produced a long silver chain, and the ring was strung from it. The old ring had a scene from the story of Little Red Riding Hood on it, an item Red had picked up in the city at a market one day, that she found ironic. This seemed to cheer the little girl substantially, her face brightened as the chain was placed around her neck. "There's a good girl." Red bent to kiss her daughter's head, smiling forcibly at her. 

"I'll be good mommy, I promise," the little girl swore, crossing her heart. And like that her mother disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. 

"Well, lets get you into bed little wolf," Granny said, moving to take the cloak from her. 

"No," Elsie said pulling the cloak more tightly around herself. She wouldn't part with it, not yet. Not for the whole first month she lived with Granny. She had promised herself that night she wouldn't part with it until her mommy came back to take it. But she had no choice but to let that promise fade after that first month, for a month is a very long time to cling to a promise, even for a stubborn little girl. 

"Elsie, darling, you can't possibly sleep in it," Granny offered ushering her to the little room that had somehow magically appeared off the back of the house for the little girl. It had never been there before, but Elsie could hardly take notice if that at the time. 

The little girl only replied by shaking her head in one quick stubborn motion, and Granny relented at least for now. It would be a long time before Elsie left Granny's cottage, but much sooner than that she would realize that her mother was never coming back, and that she would never see her family again. And much sooner than even that, the memories of the people she had once loved would fade into a hazy kind of blur. Till she nearly forgot she had once had a family. A father, a brother, and a mother, all of which who had loved her dearly. And even sooner than that, she would relent to the idea that she was by herself in this world, with only Granny for some kind of guidance. She would never realize that her Granny was a fairy godmother, even after the old woman had died. And she would never search out her family, even when she felt the loneliest. 

It was a cool, but sunny day, and all seemed well in The Wild. Or at least as well as The Wild could get. Elsie had lived on the edge of the worlds for a great many years, and she found that the recent peacefulness of the place was all a bit eerie to her. It was like the calm before the storm. Or the green haze in the middle of a tornado. She didn't particularly care for it at all. In fact she would much rather it be bustling, and noisy. At least then she would know where the next threat was coming from. At least then she would know where to turn her head. But this quiet left her feeling unsettled. 

There was a small town on the edge of the gate. It was a recent addition to The Wild. Something that had sprouted up within the last decade out of necessity more than anything. It was more for the use of trading between the worlds. Of course there weren't really any mundane folk who came through to trade. It was all the Folk going back and forth. Trading modern medicines they had stolen, or bought from Mundane pharmacies. Trading cheap clothing they had bought with fairy gold. Even trading people. It was the people that distressed her the most. 

Elsie had never gotten used to the idea of people trading people. Like they were property, and their lives didn't mean anything. Just because they were Mundanes didn't mean their lives weren't important. It simply meant that they didn't believe in magic, and live off of it the way the people of her world did. 

"And all the better for it," Elsie said to herself. One of the passing men glanced at her, brows raised but kept walking. Elsie had never had anything but trouble from magic. Especially her own. The paintings she was selling were the few she could produce that didn't move and show some horrendous scene. They were landscapes of far off places that she had never really seen, and that lay motionless as paintings ought. The others, the ones she hid in the little cottage, the ones that refused to be painted over, those moved constantly. Showing scenes of people she had never met, and could only see in her head. She wasn't even sure they existed, and yet they moved.

"Little Wolf," came the growl of a passing spiteful woman, who purposefully knocked over one of the crude easels. 

Elsie growled in return, but the cloaked woman had already scampered off and disappeared into the crowd. Bright green eyes flashed as she followed the bustle of the crowd. Although she was used to this treatment of the people in the villages, that made it no less annoying. Especially when they decided to take their hate out on her artwork. 

The girl tugged her long red cloak more firmly around herself, and took it as a sign to pack up for the day. Before the woman came back with a pitchfork or a torch. She didn't need to lose all her hard work while being chased out of town. 

"Excuse me miss," came a small voice. The woman stilled in her pack up, and her eyes flicked to look down at the small girl looking up at her with wide innocent grey eyes. 

"Can I help you with something," no reason to be impolite to the perfectly polite little girl. After all, she seriously doubted as this little girl wasn't cowering in fear, that this girl knew what she was. 

"Are you the girl who paints the moving paintings?" The question was said so innocently, and so frankly, that Elsie was taken a back. She blinked, looking very confused at the little girl. How did this tiny creature know? How had she come to not be frightened of her? And why did Elsie get the distinct feeling this was a leading question? 

Her hood fell back as her head looked around to see if someone had sent this little girl. To see if this was a question from someone else. She thought she may have seen a shrouded figure slip further into the shadows, just at the edge of her vision, but she couldn't be sure. 

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She almost caught sight of him that time. Falcon had been watching her at the market for weeks. Keeping himself tucked out of sight, but at the same time always keeping an eye on her. Only at the market though, he hadn't followed her home yet. He had to make sure she was who he thought she was first. Because this wasn't the first time she had almost caught him looking. And he couldn't risk being in an unpopulated area where it would be easier for her to catch him at it. 

"I'm sorry, what did you ask," the dark haired woman was saying. She had been distracted momentarily by the figure she thought she had seen. Falcon did not intend to give himself away to his prey. While he had never kidnapped before, he didn't honestly think the principles could be that much different from the theft of priceless artwork. First you staked the piece out to see what would be the best way to capture it. Then you had to check to see if the piece was genuine. Then you went in for the kill, so to speak. 

"I asked, if you were the lady who does the moving paintings," the little girl was getting impatient now, Falcon could tell. The few gold coins wasn't worth her taking this long out of her play time to do a favor for a strange man she was sure she shouldn't be talking to either way. Not that Falcon blamed her. The kid was smart, smart enough to take money where it was offered. 

"Yes, I do, but why do you ask," the woman had answered, her eyes still wide, and alert. Falcon could tell she thought this was some kind of set up. But the little girl didn't answer, she just nodded happily, and skipped away. He had told the little girl specifically to not return to him. He had given her the money ahead of time, and she was just to disappear once she had finished speaking to the young woman. That she did. Bright little thing, good at following directions, Falcon had a knack for finding people like that. 

The woman just stood there confused for a moment. Then her eyes flitted around the crowd again, to look for who had sent the little girl. She wouldn't see him. If there was one thing the Bird was good at it, it was not getting caught. He blended further into the shadowed doorway as her eyes landed on his hiding spot once more. For a moment, he thought she had seen him, but then she seemed to shake herself, and go back to packing her things. 

It wasn't long before she had finished packing, and was making her way to the edge of the small village. This would be the tricky part. This had been the part he was planning for weeks. The actual kidnapping. He had to do it in such a way that she didn't know he was there until he had already caught her. 

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She knew someone was following her before she even reached the edge of the village. She could feel the prickle on the back of her neck. The Wolf in her sounded feral as it growled, chomping at the bit for any excuse to be free of the red cloak over it's shoulders that kept it in check. 

Once she had left the village, her nose caught the scent. Another gift from the animal within. Whatever was following her was human, and not overly magical. Magic had a tangy smell, like blood, and this person didn't have much on them. She also got the feeling from the deep rich tones, that her pursuer was male. Male, and not overly wealthy considering the slightly unwashed smell. 

There was a good amount you could tell about a person by their scent. However, a lot of it was guess work. She was guessing that the male following her had something to do in the art trade, because she could smell paint on him. He wasn't a slave trader, that was a relief. All of the slave traders she had encountered smelt of stale human, and death. However, that didn't make her feel any safer. He could be something much worse. He wasn't noble, another relief, he didn't smell clean enough for that, and wasn't wearing any of the rich soaps. 

She let him follow her as they made their way into the forest. Let him sneak behind her trying not to make a sound. He couldn't know that she was a Wolf, if he did, he'd have known that he should have overcome her in the village. The forest was her territory, he was the one in danger there. She was halfway to the cottage deep in the woods when she heard him make his move. 

His heartbeat was almost audible, as if he had never done this before, his pace sped clumsily, and then he tackled her to the ground. What her attacker hadn't been expecting was a fight. 

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Falcon had been sure the girl would go down without so much as a groan. He had been very wrong indeed. She fought back. Smacking him hard upside the head with her easel, and taking his momentary confusion as her advantage, she sprung to her feet. She had dropped her pack with all of her paintings, and they were circling each other in seconds. Dark eyes examined her much more closely than they had been able to all this time. She was a slim thing, built more like a fairy than like a person, but she moved like something straight out of the forest. Like something that knew no limits. 

The powder he had bought from the witch was really only supposed to be in case of emergencies, but he really felt he had no choice. Taking a hand full of it he blew it into the girl's face, and she crumpled. Her world going dark, and sleepy as she fell to the ground. 

Falcon made quick work of tying her up. This time he took no chances. He bound her securely, taking off the long red cloak that clung to her shoulders, and stuffing it in his pack. He'd have to wait till she came to to start off again, of course, but until then he settled to making them a small fire to keep warm, and setting up camp. 

#

Elsie came to with a start. Bright eyes opening wide in one quick motion, head jerking up. It was strangely colder than she remembered, and night had fallen. The ropes around her were only glanced at, no real effort put into getting out of them just yet. For now she was taking stock of her situation. Panic quickly set in when she realized her cloak was missing. 

"Ah, you're awake," came a smooth deep voice that almost matched the smell she had gotten a whiff of from her pursuer. Her only response was to growl. Letting it rumble up from her chest. The over large man merely quirked a brow, the lips beneath his short cropped beard twitched in amusement. 

"Who are you," she asked in the same low growling voice. Her eyes never leaving him, to make sure he stayed where he was. 

"Falcon Avery, I'd shake your hand, but you're a little... tied up," he smirked at her. This only brought about another growl from the woman. She didn't enjoy people who thought they were amusing, it seemed. "And you are little miss?"

"None of your business. Where is my cloak?" Her eyes skirted around the clearing for the first time since opening them. She recognized this part of the forest. She could still get home if she could get free. 

"You're going to be stuck with me for a while, it'd be nice to have something to call you. Unless you prefer Little Wolf." He had heard many a person in the village refer to her as such, but he had never made the connection, obviously, or he wouldn't have taken her cloak. Elsie was sure of it. 

"Don't call me that," this was said with teeth bared a little and eyes narrowed. She hated being called that. Little Wolf. Like because she was some accident that made her a freak of nature. The little halfling. Most wolves refused to go outside of their pack to find a mate. Yet, somehow, here she was, half and half. "What have you done with my cloak?" She repeated herself, hoping he'd realize how stupid he was being by keeping it from her. 

"You mean this?" Falcon pulled the red velvet cloak from his bag, and held it up to the fire light to examine it. "It's a lovely thing. I'm sure it'll fetch a hefty price."

"Give it here." The girl demanded eyes flashing dangerously. But he merely shook his head in a slow sad motion. 

"No, I don't think I will." He tucked it back into his bag. She was sure he didn't really know it's true value. "Now, when first light comes we have to be off. We're headed for the coast."

"I don't intend to travel anywhere with you birdbrain."

"We have a great many things to do. Money to make. People to see," he continued on as if he hadn't heard her insult him. "I suggest you get some rest."

Brilliant green eyes merely narrowed on him. She didn't like being told what to do. Especially by someone who had kidnapped her. Which she was going to be angry about for the next month, mind you. Falcon just quirked a brow at her, and looked mildly amused. "It'll do neither of us any good to argue with me." Even though he still looked amused, which just annoyed her more. She closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep. Maybe, if she got lucky he would fall asleep and she'd be able to escape somehow.