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

Chapter Seven: Welcome Home

Author's Note

*evil laughter*

Marjorie didn't dare to look back as she ran through the dark forest. She brought her arms toward her face, blocking any low hanging foliage or thistles, and tore through the miles of land. Behind her, the orange moon slowly crawled back down to the horizon.

Soon, morning would come.

Her steps never faltered, at least, until the worn soles of her boots hit the cobblestone path of the village. She pressed herself against the wooden gate that kept the settlement free of wild animals and breathed hard. Even now, with Mirkwood not even in her line of vision, there was not enough distance between her and the man she left behind.

"Damn it," she whispered. The young woman closed her eyes. Behind her lids, she revisited her last moments inside the forest.

Once Fenris revealed his true identity, he raised a single hand, one heavy with two, simple golden rings, and flicked his wrist up. Like magick, the thick undergrowth once blocking her way out lifted from the hidden trail.

He had been the one to lead her deep into Mirkwood—and trapped her inside of it.

"There is no harm here with me," the Wolf whispered. "And although you are brave, you reek of fear. The path will lead you safely home. Return to Core and say your goodbyes. The villagers leave at dawn."

"I am not scared of you," Marjorie muttered, careful not allow her words to hitch. She wanted him to know it. Whatever pheromone he claimed to smell was not her fear, instead it was an incredible amount of stupidity and curiosity stacked on top of each other. She had no desire to run. She ached to learn more about the stranger standing in front of her.

When she looked at Fenris, she did not see the fabled beast capable of rot and death. In its place, she saw something that resembled closer to a man, weighed down by the burdens of a life capsized by magick. "Will I see you again?"

What she meant to ask was "Will I be your victim tonight?"

"I will see you again," he spoke in a riddle.

His answer sent chilling waves racking through her body. His words were a dark promise of his return—when, she did not know.

Perhaps he watched her even now. The thought brought Marjorie out of her trance and sent her climbing over the low, wooden fence. Once she cleared the other side and landed in a patch of frozen grass, she pulled up the skirts of her gown and pushed through the empty fields of her neighboring villagers.

The breaking dawn was still too early to stir any of her fellowmen.

Marjorie ran alongside a freshly plowed grassland and then, followed the shoreline of Mother River to her home.

Her house was sandwiched between Petyr's family home and his father's butcher shop. All three estates were humble properties for this side of the river. Most villagers lacked the funds to build with brick and mortar, but Marjorie's late parents were lucky. Her father's side of the family—now long gone, like them, too— once owned a rock quarry. Some time ago, before Petyr and Marjorie were ever born, Petyr's family traded dried pig and lamb meat in exchange for a steep discount on brick.

The quarry was excavated generations ago. Now, the three estates were the only ties remaining to her ancestors. But Petyr's family—they still possessed herds of livestock and the fine tools needed for a butcher.

Warm, golden light spilled out of Petyr's bedroom window. Marjorie's chest tightened at the sight. It was odd for him to be awake at such a late hour.