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

Chapter Eighteen: Catch

She turned to Fenris. Before she met the strange man, her mundane life was considered peculiar by the harsh standards of the villagers, but comfortable to her. She grew use to the nights spent alone in her home, and the days she wasted with Petyr. But now, she had no desire to run away from the Wolf or the unknown that accompanied him.

"I believe we will be safe if we stay with Fenris," Marjorie confirmed after a long moment of silence.

Petyr nodded at her answer. Although she repeated Fenris's identical sentiment, he only trusted it when the words came from Marjorie's lips.

"I—I have never been in the woods before," Petyr admitted. He stood farthest from the tree line, as if he feared the branches would dart down and grab him by the waist, pulling him inside the red belly of the forest only to disappear like the Woodsmen before him.

"You have nothing to fear." Marjorie looped a hand around the bend of his elbow. She brought him close, until he stood flush against her heavy cloak. Like this, the wideness of his dark eyes waned, until they no longer resembled the shape of the full moon above. Instead, they calmed down to two steady half-crescents.

"Marjorie," Fenris spoke her name.

In his hands, he held the gossamer fabric of his white tunic. The dark skin of his chest contrasted with the red light above, highlighting the many scars on his bare torso.

"Y-yes?" she asked, trying to keep herself from stuttering. She failed, too entranced by the impossible beauty of his body.

"Do you mind if I shift?" He combed a hand through his long, black curls. "I know my other form frightens most humans. It is not my intention to—"

"Will you look the same as last time?" Marjorie asked, imagining the giant, black wolf.

"Yes," he said. Fenris pushed the tunic over his elbows, preparing to pull the top over his head. It was pulled taut over his forehead before she raised her hand and rested it on his forearm.

"It does not frighten me," she answered, too blunt in her delivery for it to be anything but the truth. "Please. Shift."

He gave her a crooked smile, and then, he flung his head up. His body contorted and stretched, breaking and bending at angles that stirred the contents of Marjorie's belly. It looked as though his shift should be painful, but he kept his smile.

And then his spine broke in half.

The mighty crack echoed through the forest, bending his back like a broken cattail still attempting to stand tall. His arms flung back, now longer than before.

Marjorie suppressed an unexpected scream by catching it in the palm of her hands. Petyr was not as quick. The man swayed on his feet and leaned his body against her shoulder for support.

Fenris laughed out at the pain, as if he grew used to the strange contortions and the brokenness that came with the shift. The man ripped forward, like a gust of wind pushed on his back and he was helpless to follow. He flew with his wide, outstretched hands reaching in front of him. His dark eyes remained steady on the ground that continued to approach closer and closer.

He landed on all fours. Paws wider than Marjorie's entire hand padded on the grass below. The transformation was quick. In Fenris's place was the Wolf. The creature doubled her height. His head measured the same width of her shoulders.

He walked forward, hanging his heavy head between his shoulder blades to level his gaze with Marjorie. Even with him bending low, Marjorie had to tip her head up to see his golden eyes.

The Wolf pressed the wet tip of his nose to touch against her cheek.

Marjorie reached up and ran her fingers through his long black fur, which glimmered like morning gossamer. She was taken back by the unexpected softness that came with her touch. It reminded her of river moss, how the green tops and brown underbellies curved to the gentle waves and swayed weightlessly when capsized.