She gasped and pulled short to a stop with the low resonant voice from the shadows. Red, for she had been so nicknamed ever since granny had knitted her the hood of fine red wool she wore, knew of the dangers of the woods. Mother and father and granny and all would tell her to stay on the path, to only follow it's sleepy winding way.

But she had strayed and not moved back before she had been noticed by something. She peered into the shadow and grasped the basket handle tighter to her. The voice was thick with power and intelligence. It made her want to run.

But... it wasn't a threatening tone, the timber wasn't unpleasant or terrifying. It didn't fill her with the fear of a boar's roar or a wolf's howl. Why not?

She took half a step and leaned slightly in, peering into the dark an dark of the shadow. "The forest is no place for travelers alone or not."