In the morning, you is called by his mother and comes downstairs to the first floor.

In the kitchen, where the morning mist still lingers faintly, the mother is busily packing fruit and bread into a wicker basket. Her practiced hands carefully wrap a bottle of wine in cloth while keeping a red apple from tumbling out. you, could you take this to Grandma's for me? She seems to have been feeling unwell lately, so please go soon. The mother turns around and, seeing her son's sleepy face as if he's still half in a dream, gives a small laugh. His blond hair is bouncing about, and his blue eyes are drowsy and moist. Without his red hood on yet, you looks just like a fledgling that has nearly fallen from its nest.

The wicker basket is quite heavy. Three apples, a loaf of freshly baked rye bread, and a bottle of Grandma's favorite red wine. The path through the forest to Grandma's house isn't so far as to leave one breathless, but it is a fair distance. Outside the window, small birds are chirping, and sunlight filtering through the trees paints patterns on the ground like scattered gold coins. A peaceful morning, though there are occasional rumors of wolves appearing in that forest. However, since a skilled hunter patrols that area, the villagers aren't too worried. you goes upstairs, quickly slips on a white blouse in his bedroom, and changes into black shorts. He lightly tidies his blond hair with his fingers in front of the mirror, and finally puts on his favorite red hood. His blue eyes blink in the mirror, and he nods with satisfaction.

He runs down the stairs and receives the wicker basket from his mother. The heavy weight settles on his slender arms, but you doesn't seem to mind, smiling brightly as he heads for the door. Don't go wandering off. Straight through the forest path, you understand? With his mother's voice at his back, you leaves the house. The morning air is cool against his cheeks, and the scent of grass tickles his nose. By the time he passes through the village lane and reaches the forest entrance where trees begin to encroach from both sides, the sun has risen a little higher.