RED | A dark retelling of Red Riding Hood | WATTYS 2021 SHORTLIST

Chapter Six: The Wolf

Marjorie had gotten a good kick in, then.

The stinging pain of her chin and arm annoyed Marjorie, and that frustration came alive through her words. "No, but I do see a man in the middle of Mirkwood, stalking a defenseless girl," she retorted through gritted teeth. 

"You do not look defenseless to me." He wiped at the bloody skin at the edge of his flared nostrils. A thin cut split apart his pink mouth, too, causing his lips to divide in half like two petals. "You have a particularly strong kick, girl."

"It is one you deserved," she scoffed. "If you are no threat, please--" she glanced down to where he still held the red fabric of her cloak. "-- Unhand me."

"I will." He paused and moved his dark gaze around the surrounding forest and the thick green canopy of trees. Within the last few minutes, a thick, white blanket of fog covered the woods, hiding everything. Moonbeams and branches danced through the moving clouds, but still, the man watched like he expected a threat to barrel forward. "After you come back with me to the shoreline, it is not safe here so deep in the forest."

Aggravation surfaced in Marjorie. "You are the one who chased me into this place," she sneered at Fenris, but nodded. There was no reason to waste any more time-- if she wanted to help her Grandmother, every passing moment was precious. 

He pushed a hand down for Marjorie to grab and waited for her to take it. She ignored the peace offering and stood up on her own with wobbly legs. Feverish adrenaline still pumped through her veins. The ground beneath her feet seemed to sway and roll like a bouncing dock during high tide.

Fenris led their way back to the river's shore. His grasp was still wrapped tightly in her red cape, and he guided her like a dog on a leash. Or, more accurately, like Marjorie's raven on a leash.

Along the walk, Marjorie paused to salvage any of the Devilhair she lost during their struggle. He waited each time, his impatience only manifesting through annoyed sighs.

"You've come a far way from your village," Fenris murmured once they reached the river again. White fog rose up from 

 He unceremoniously dropped the thick fabric of her cape and allowed her the freedom to wander.

She walked to the edge and dipped her recovered harvest into the freezing water to wash off any dirt. Most of her Devilhair remained perfect, but still, one couldn't be too careful. Back in Core, she would have to hide her Devilhair from the hungry eyes of Villagers too cowardly to venture into the dark depths of the forest. She wouldn't have the luxury of washing it along the Village's shoreline.

"Who are you really?" Marjorie asked. She didn't want to match the intensity of his strange gray gaze, and instead kept her attention on the rushing stream. With only the moonlight above as a guiding light—her torch disappeared somewhere in the throes of their fight— the water appeared black.

"Who are you, little Red?" Fenris said instead of answering the question. "A woman waits in your Village to give you passage through this dark place. Why barter with your life the night before all your people gain freedom?"

Marjorie frowned at his words.

"It is not that simple," she whispered.

"Then please, enlighten me," Fenris pressed the question.

"My Grandmother is sick," Marjorie paused. It hurt to admit the words. Speaking her reality was like pressing dirt into a fresh, open wound. But despite the pain, she continued. "And when I say she is sick, I mean she is dying."

There was a moment of hesitation in the gentle rise and fall of Fenris's chest, as if the rawness of her words was something he had never expected. And who would? She thought. They were nothing more than two strangers in a forest, and it was only a coincidence that they found each other twice within one night.