AN: Hello! Upon putting my previous story, Reawakening in Death, on hiatus, I ended up with this. I've already got the majority of the plot sussed out and all, so hopefully there won't be any sinfully long update periods (though don't expect this to be a weekly thing. It will be updated whenever possible).

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater, nor do I own any fairy tales that I may reference in this story.

~ Chapter 1- The Scarlet Maiden~

Darkness covers the land, spare a lone light that's shining brightly, illuminating the girl's way. The scarce light which she sees is in kaleidoscope patterns, inbetween the shadows of the trees.

The girl doesn't care where she is going anyway. She has long since strayed from the path. Whilst out of breath, she persists in her running. The pounding of her boots against the earth echoes, deafening her. All too loud.

She falls over onto the ground, cursing in a manner that is neither ladylike nor appropriate for her age. She doesn't care in the slightest, as she has more pressing matters on her mind. She is Maka Albarn, currently aged eleven, and she is running for her life.

It was always night by the time she reached Grandma's house, no matter how fast she ran. Time and time again, she had asked her parents why she should bother to take the path- it twisted and turned, leading her in all sorts of obscure directions and generally wasting time. Maka wished that she could just walk through the forest itself. Secretly, she wanted to play in the forest, an area forbidden to her. She had to keep to the path and she was not to play in the forest, no matter what.

That day, Maka had disobeyed her parents. Now, she's paying the price for it.

At first, she had enjoyed herself, climbing trees and watching birds. Then she had decided to go find Grandma, before realising she had no way of finding the path. It was only when a kind man told her what direction to go that she had managed to continue on her journey. At the time, Maka didn't know what the consequences of her actions would be, nor that her saviour would become her one true hatred; she only knew that she wanted to be with Grandma before night fell, so that she could cuddle up by the fire and eat shortbread.

Unfortunately, it had become dark by the time she reached the cottage. Maka had cursed her bad luck, hoping that her parents wouldn't find out that she had strayed from the path. To do so was a taboo among the people of her village; Maka had always been a good girl, and hated to think of the gossip and teasing that would ensue if she was caught misbehaving. It was so trivial though.

Yet, when she knocked on the door and was told to come in, a nagging voice inside her head warned that this wasn't right. Grandma was as wary of the wolves as everyone else Maka knew, maybe even more so. Whilst her cottage had so far proved to be safe, she was always cautious at night. For her to call so casually was unnerving.

And then… and then…

Maka heaves herself up and runs. But, no matter how fast she sprints, she can't forget. The feeling of his hands on her, the hungry look in his eyes. She was about to become his meal, and the thought terrified her.

It was a miracle that she had got out alive- hitting him with a fire poker before dashing out of the window. Yet part of her knows that her escape had been intention; she is currently playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, and he is toying with her before killing her.

But she won't let him. She will survive, she will not give up.

Her cloak snags on some brambles, yet is pulled away after several tugs. In retrospect, she knows that she should abandon it- not only due to the hazards of it getting caught, but because its bright red colour makes her stick out like a sore thumb within the muted browns and greens of the wood. Yet she refuses to take it off. The cloak is her comfort blanket on this dark, dangerous night.

Finally, her muscles give in, and the blonde collapses to the ground in exhaustion.

It takes almost an entire day for Maka to find the path; a day of paranoia, of constantly looking over her shoulder and flinching at the slightest of noises.

When she finally sees the dirt path – the narrow, winding path that is nothing but a slur of mud whenever it rains- she feels like dropping to the ground and worshipping it, such is the feeling of relief that has overcome her. Yet she doesn't. She wants to get out of the Forest and into her village as soon as possible. Yesterday, it was her playground- today, it is her nightmare.

She sprints down the path, never stopping, never looking back for fear that he is following her. She does not dare to travel in the other direction, to go to Grandma's cottage- in fact, she never wants to see that building again. Maybe, when she gets home, she can inform the woodcutters and they can save Grandma. Maybe her parents will see sense and leave the village that is located deep within the Forest. Perhaps they will take her to the Kingdom of Shibusen, a land she has heard stories and rumours about. A kingdom where children can aspire to be more than woodcutters and housewives. Where fairy tales come true, a kingdom of happily ever afters. If Maka's family lived in Shibusen, they wouldn't have to fear the forest creatures. They wouldn't have to bolt up their doors and windows at night 'just in case'.

Yet, when she arrives home, Maka's hopes and dreams vanish into oblivion. Now, her red cloak seems to fit the sickening colour scheme.

Crimson.

Vermilion.

Scarlet.

Red.

Maka takes a step back. She doesn't want to know what squelches beneath her boot, nor does she wish to know whose mauled body she has narrowly avoided stepping on. Because one thing is clear to her now.

They never were playing Cat and Mouse. They weren't playing games, and he has delivered a deadly blow. The Big Bad Wolf has stained her life red; bloody red.

And then he slashes through her throat and the rest of her is red.

Maka woke up, a cold sweat causing her hair to stick to her forehead. She forced herself to be calm, sneaking a glance at her pet cat. The girl was relieved that the feline was still sleeping- the last thing she needed right then was for Blair to see her in such a weakened state.

It was only a dream. And besides, that was five years ago.

Stamping out the dying embers of the previous night's fire, she yawned and fastened the clasp of her cloak before tying her hair up. Sure, she was used to getting by on precious little sleep, but that dream would always increase the tiredness by tenfold.

Looking down, she saw that familiar tear in her cloak- the one she had gained snagging it on the brambles, making her hasty escape. It was that tear that would remind Maka not to lose track of her goals.

She reached for her axe, her father's woodcutting axe that she knew all too well. The girl awoke her companion before leaving, hood up and face shrouded in shadow.

No matter how long it took, she would defeat that Wolf. Even if she spent the rest of her life searching, she would paint him scarlet.

She was no longer the nine-year-old Maka Albarn, goody-two-shoes of Oakvale.

She was the sixteen-year-old Maka, also known as Red Riding Hood.

AN: I do try, I assure you. Anyway, this story… I have pretty much all of the master storyline sussed, and only a few kinks that need ironing out. My beta's estimating for this to be somewhere between 20-30 chapters, so… yeah. Also, this chapter's not too long because it's more of a prologue than anything else. Anyway, feel free to review, if you so wish. Just remember; the more reviews I have, the more motivated I am and the faster the updates. Thank you to LittleMissSophie, my officially awesome beta reader.

CHARACTER CHALLENGE: Guess what fairy tale character Soul might be (this one's quite tricky). Throw Blair's identity if you wish for extra points (not too difficult).

~Meg

B/R: Yeah, it's me. I'm betaing this story. So here's a hint: If you don't like Big Words, then you won't like my edits. And if you enjoy awkward pacing/wording, then you won't like my edits. If you like quality, then you won't like this story. 'Nuff said.