This is a continuation of the Little Red Riding Hood AU.

In the early morning stillness, Jake removed the boiling kettle from the fire. He’d fallen into a routine finally, after months of feeling restless with the change of pace. He missed being the Woodsman, but his priorities had shifted. 

Pouring the hot water over the prepared coffee grounds, Jake paused, kettle halfway back to the counter. He could have sworn—

A bird chirping through the open window had him on full alert. They’d stopped singing for a brief moment. Just long enough to indicate something had disturbed them. 

Was there danger? He hadn’t sensed anything amiss. 

Cautiously, he set down the kettle, silently moving toward the door. Pressing against the far wall, Jake stayed in the shadow while edging past the window. He’d only needed to use his skill set a couple times since living here, and for quite minor things. He was getting rusty. 

At the front door, Jake placed his left hand on the rough wood. When nothing seemed out of the ordinary, he pressed his ear carefully against it, willing every last bit of his intuition into use. 

Nothing. 

He couldn’t sense anything wrong. 

Jake opened the door, just the tiniest crack, but nothing happened. No one was there. No projectiles hurtled through the air. 

Instead, at his feet, sat a wooden box. 

There was nothing remarkable about it. The dark grain appeared well cut and sanded down, as if someone had put effort into crafting it. 

Without conscious thought, Jake reached toward it, hastily drawing his hand back at the last second. 

Jake stared at it, aghast. What had just come over him? A few months was all it took for him to lose his edge, apparently. 

Momentarily retreating into his small house, he found one of his more useful pieces of equipment. Bringing it outside, Jake scanned the surrounding trees out of habit. At least that was still ingrained into him. 

Since everything appeared to be in order, Jake set down on the second step, frowning at the box. 

Whoever left it had certainly been quiet. That must have been the reason behind the birds pausing. That left several more questions, though. Not just who it could be, but why? And, much as he hated to admit it, Jake really did want to know what was inside the box. So long as it wasn’t a trap. 

Scanning the box with his device Jake frowned at the screen. Nothing was getting picked up. No wires. Nothing electronic. Although that was technically a good thing, it did pique his curiosity even more. 

Ever so carefully, Jake stretched out his metal arm, poking the box. It shifted under the pressure, but it weighed more than he expected. 

Jake bit his lip, debating what to do. He wanted to know what was inside. But he didn’t want to have to explain to Damien if something went awry. 

Curiosity finally won. Gingerly balancing the box in his metal hand, Jake returned to his forgotten coffee. Taking an absentminded sip, his eyebrows shot up, eyes watering at the strength of the brew. Replacing the mug, he poured more water over the grounds in an attempt to salvage the drink. 

Turning his full attention back to the box, Jake hesitantly felt the exterior of the box with his left hand. There wasn’t any sort of latch. No decorations. It was just a wooden box.

With deft movements, Jake pulled the top away. After the faintest catch, the lid released. 

Peering inside, Jake could only stare for a moment. 

“Are these really…?” 

Throwing caution to the wind, Jake flipped the box upside down, a stack of photographs spilling across the table. One by one, he pulled them over to study, placing them back in the box when he was satisfied. 

One of him making coffee. 

Another where he was standing by his door, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile. 

Him reading a book. Something he hadn’t had time to do for a long while before coming here. But this picture must have been hard to take. Especially at that angle. Jake was legitimately impressed by it. 

A picture of him working in his small garden, fully focused on the sprouts surrounding him. 

By the nearby river, enjoying a quiet moment under the trees. 

Talking to one of the wolves in town, laughing at something someone had said. 

Changing his clothes, the faintest hint of skin exposed at his waist. 

If the last one had been pushing it, he wasn’t prepared for the next one. Jake let out a long groan of frustration, setting down the photo of himself showering. 

Ignoring the mind numbing bitterness, Jake slammed back his cup of coffee. He’d seen enough. It was time to do something about it.