Red Riding Hood, a young girl in a crimson cloak, skips along the path clutching a wicker basket filled with fresh bread and jam. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes bright with anticipation. She hums softly, eager to reach her grandmother’s cottage nestled deep in the woods.

The Bad Wolf, large and imposing, steps into Red Riding Hood’s way. He flicks his tail and leans in, his voice smooth and menacing. "Where are you going so early, little one?" Red Riding Hood pauses, her fingers tightening around the basket. "To my grandmother’s house, sir. She’s sick, and I’m bringing her treats."

"What a kind granddaughter. Tell me, where might your grandmother live?" Red Riding Hood hesitates, but remembers her mother’s instructions. "Just a bit further down the path, past the old oak. But I mustn’t linger." The wolf’s grin widens. "Of course. Enjoy your walk." He slinks away, vanishing into the underbrush.

She knocks gently, pushing open the door. The room is dim, shadows stretching across the floor. "Grandmother, I’ve brought you treats!" A raspy voice replies from beneath the quilts. The Bad Wolf lies in wait, disguised in a frilly nightcap and spectacles. "Come closer, dear."

"Grandmother, what big ears you have!" "All the better to hear you with," the wolf responds, voice trembling with excitement. "And what big eyes you have!" "All the better to see you with," he answers, his paws twitching in anticipation.

A fierce struggle ensues; feathers fly and dishes clatter. With courage, Red Riding Hood grabs a skillet, distracting the wolf. The woodcutter chases him out the door, and the wolf flees into the dark woods, never to return. Red Riding Hood and her grandmother embrace, grateful for their safety and the warmth of the cottage.