AN
This is a very strange chapter; sorry. ;-;
Song on the side pretty much sums up Wolff.
People whisper about the legend of the Wolf.
It's told in front of the windows of the bakery, when the children are staring wide-eyed at the sweets that can be seen if they stand on the tops of their toes and their parents bat at them that if they eat too much the Wolf will have them for dinner.
It's whispered about in-between the desks of the schoolhouse, when doe-eyes are dilated in fear and their chubby fingers that are just beginning to thin grasp onto their older siblings sleeve as the oldest of them all passes down different versions of the story with the same reoccurring theme.
When the men kiss their wives and wipe the sweat off of their brow with the back of their hand, and the old woman that his wife calls her mother asks him if he's seen the Wolf in the fields.
It's spoke about when the hag that lives on just the edge of the forest trades tales for bread crumbs, tells her fables and myths with wide-eyes and how the Wolf was not a wolf at all.
Some say he comes from wolves, that the Wolf was pushed into it instead of bred.
Others?
They say wolves aren't the ancestors of the Wolf, but the descendants and seeds of the beast.
But Ezra is not interested in fairy-tales - he doesn't need to trade a sliver of bread for a story of the Wolf. He covers his sister's ears when the beast is spoken of- but keeps his own open for listening. The curiosity always got the better of the oldest Cerise, he could never quite stop himself from thinking about the tales of the Wolf- but he was interested in the facts, not the lies that are stirred in with guilty smiles hoping to feed fear to anyone willing to listen.
Because the Wolf- the Wolf is immortal.
Old as time himself, said to be one of the first living things on this planet of dirt and blood.
Timeless, not finite like the rest of them- like the Woodsman.
Like a clock, the Wolf stands for the death and funeral of one villager.
And he was two days early.
When the villagers had heard the warning bells echo across Wye's Valley, Ezra's blood ran cold.
It was white-hot fear that replaced that icy freeze that had kept his limbs stuck in place. Mid-swing with the ax that was once his own extension getting stuck in the tree as he blinked.
They must've made a mistake.
Because the Wolf- the Wolf doesn't make mistakes. He's precise, he doesn't come a day early or a day late, he comes the day of.
"The Wolf." One of the woodsmen whispers, the man is burly six feet of muscle, with his tunic wrung with sweat as he turns to slowly look at the men around him.
Because they are all in shock.
Almost a mile away, the church is tucked in the middle of town.
A mile away. A mile to climb through the dawn that is coming and wrap your hands around your wooden cross pendant while praying to any God out there to keep you out of the Wolf's claws.
"Rosalie." Ezra whispers beneath his breath.
Rosalie. Rosalie. Rosalie.
"Rosalie!" It's like something in his voice caused all of the woodsmen around him to snap out of their paralyzed fear. Because in his tone- it's heartbroken, lost- completely helpless knowing that between the church and him is a mile away. But more importantly- a mile away is a Wolf that's closer to his Rosalie instead of the church.
He rips the ax out of his tree, running to his mare as the other woodsmen follow en route.
*
The bells won't stop ringing.
The bells won't stop ringing even as he basically falls off of his mare, not bothering with tying her up as he scrambles with his ax. His bottle-green eyes are wide in fear, the look of pure disquietude blatant on his face.
The church is open, the doors are heavy but four men are standing at each end to assure it stays open as the villagers stream in.
He scrambles along with them, limbs weak as he runs through the crowd.
"Rosa! Rosalie!" He isn't crying, he isn't. He's just shaking, he's just barely holding on by a thread as his teeth dig into his pretty pink lips that are turning an angry crimson.
"Rosalie- I swear to God, Rosalie!" Ezra rips through the villagers, knocking over anyone in his way and not bothering to apologize as he makes it to the school teacher.
"Clarence, Clarence- Rosalie- Rosalie, where is she?!" He's shouting it, eyes wide in fear as he looks over the differing sizes of children, but none of them match up to his Rosalie.
Clarence is the one man that he can't stand, the one person who has never seen eye to eye with Ezra simply because when Ezra turned fifteen his superior asked him his hand in marriage and he quickly refused.
"Rosalie- I swear, I swear on my mother's grave she better be in this church Clar-" Ezra doesn't even realize it when he takes the man by the collar of his tunic and yanks him to the wall, "I swear. I swear." He repeats in voice that resembles a broken record. He isn't even making sense, eyes wide as his doll face turns more riled than pretty.
"Ezra- Ezra, she isn't here. She isn't here." The man he's pinned onto the cold walls of the church repeats, "She ran before I could catch her, I swear- she-"
"You let my sister run?! You let Rosalie run- where? Where the hell is she, Clarence?!" Ezra bares his teeth like an animal as he growls it, his ax appearing in his hands as he puts it to Clarence's jugular, "I swear, I'll feed you to the Wolf myself."
"Grandmother's- she said she was going to grandmother's house." He chokes out, the slice that Ezra presses into his throat makes the man squirm as a bead of blood puckers at the opening.
"Damn it." Ezra whispers, eyes wide as he realizes that's exactly where she would've gone. Grandmother was a priority Rosalie put before her own life.
"Damn it." He repeated, before shoving the man away from him- there is blood on the blade of his ax- he doesn't bother wiping it off as he runs in the exact opposite direction of safety.
*
The Wolf is crouching in the overgrowth that acts as a fence for the trail the girl walks on.
She smells like sweat- like salty wet tears that have just blended into her already wet skin as the red cloak that flows behind her curls up beneath her feet. She's beautiful, with lips that were cut on her trek after she fell over her too long hood; and split her pretty little face on the sharp edge of a rock.
Doe eyes make the Wolf pause as he watches her through the brush.
And she smells so good, her scent is what made him follow the girl- but after that mouth-watering smell wasn't hers, but her brother's, the Wolf kept himself from pouncing on her and dragging her off to the forest.
Because this is just a game of cat and mouse- Rosalie would lure his Ezra out of the town. He knew she would.
The red riding hood is still wrapping around her legs as she runs, snot already running down that pretty porcelain face of hers. She's scared- he can how her heart beats so fast that it's ready to plummet out of the little girl's chest.
But she's brave too.
She hadn't even thought about turning back, her hand hasn't even reached out to her wooden cross necklace that he knows her own brother strung around her fragile neck.
He's still watching the youngest Cerise from the edge of the brush, eyes calculating as the line of his lips curve up in a grin that would make more people tremble than blush.
The Wolf isn't standing on all fours, instead two feet steady on top of the twigs and branches that layer the snow-pelted ground. He would be cold, but he can't find it in himself to even think about the dropping temperatures when he's so close to his prize.
The Wolf is still grinning, he can hear her heartbeat but he can hear the footsteps that trail behind, he can detect the close calls for Rosalie coming from a voice that makes the blood in his freezing veins pump with heat.
"-lie." It's coming nearer, the voice of Ezra mangled in the winter storm that has begun to fall.
"Rosa-" Just a bit closer and little Red would hear her brother.
He grasps the top of the bush he's managed to seclude himself in and lets out a soft chuckle.
"Rosalie!"
She turns her pretty little head, gold locks wiping across her face and her hood falls off at the sudden movement.
The Wolf smiles.
*
"Rosalie!" Ezra screams, his voice breaking with relief as he stares at his sister. She's bleeding, her dry mouth hung open as the bottom lip bleeds with a steady trail of crimson.
Snots running down her face, tears prick the edge of her wide cobalt eyes but she's there, and she's alive, and she's breathing.
The grasp on his ax loosens, basically dripping out of his hold as he runs to his sister and swoops her in his arms. There's a sense of relief he's never felt before as he buries his nose in the warmth of her hood and feels her cold cheeks on his own.
"Ezzy, what's wrong?" She asks, her hands stick on either side of his freckled face as she sees the tears of utter salvation he let fall.
"Rosy, Rosa- I thought- don't you ever...don't do that again, darling, don't ever do that to me again. Please, please." His voice is desperate, like the only thing that anchors him to the living world is his sister. He fists his hand into her red cloak, feeling the silky feel before placing a wet kiss on her forehead.
"Ezzy- I'm sorry. I- I didn't know...but grandma and the Wolf- I can't-"
He cuts her off, shaking his head as he pulls her into him, shushing her as he presses her open mouth on his shoulder, "Grandmother will be fine, I swear, she'll be fine." He tells her- because if he says there's a chance she's already dead she'll kick and scream the entire way back to the church.
"But- grandma- grandma won't know where we're at, she might get confused-" Her Bambi-eyes well up in tears as she stares at the trail that leads them to their grandmother's.
"Rosalie, we can't. I'm not going to let you. I said she was fine, she'll be fin-"
There's a movement in the bush, it makes Ezra freeze in the middle of his sentence. His wide iridescent eyes turn into slits, his heart beats faster but the grasp on his little sister doesn't falter.
"Rosalie...Rosa, run." He whispers- because he isn't going to take chances, not with his sister.
"Wh...at?" She asks, her eyes are wide in confusion as the command leaves her brother's lips.
"Run to the church- right-" But it gets caught in his throat, stuffed back down it as the air in his chest leaves.
He's never seen the man that walks out of the brush, with long legs covered in creamy tan skin that lead to a sinewy torso. Paper thin white slits crawl up all over the stranger's naked body, acting as scars as he takes another step, a grin that makes his blood cold appears on the face of the tallest man Ezra had seen.
"I'm Wolff." The man grins; and Ezra doesn't know why his chest skips a beat at the voice that sounds likes it's been dipped into everything that he's ever craved.
"And you were in my Woods."
AN
What can I improve on?
And- WHAT'S GON HAPPEN NEXT? ANY GUESSES.
Did ya see how I put in the little mix, like Little Red off to Grandmother's house and the Wolf follows her as the Woodsman saves her?
Sorry if this seemed weird, I fuckin' wrote this chapter three times and just as I was about to publish it my computer effin' died and I had to rewrite the last part all over again. But I think it came out better the second time so. eh.