Who knows?

Walking in the shadows,
She keeps to the dark.
Never speaks or smiles,
Just walks through the park.

Her skin an ivory hue,
Her lips the darkest red.
Her hair the richest brown,
Yet nothing has she said.

She keeps her head down,
Pulls her laced hood.
For the final part of her journey,
She walk through the wood.

Bravely does she walk,
Ignores the wolf howl.
Doesn't trip over branches
Or get spooked by a hoot of an owl.

She walks into her cottage,
And plucks a blood red rose.
But what she does next,
Nobody knows.