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

Chapter Eight: A Woodsman's Weakness

Author's Note

Here is the moment you've all waited for, and the chapter I'm most excited for you all to read. Please, enjoy. 

Petyr did not stop his pacing in front of the dying fireplace. He ran an anxious hand through his loose golden curls. Every few moments, he turned to look at Marjorie. His dark eyes would well up with a sticky, tender emotion, one that brought sudden heat into the apples of his cheeks, before he looked away once again.

"I cannot go without you," Petyr finally whispered after they shared a long moment of silence.

Marjorie sat on a three-legged stool; her skirt pooled on the wooden floorboards. On the ground beside her, the raven slept in its iron cage, clueless to the frantic emotions heavy in the air.

"Of course, you will go," she said. She appreciated the bravery of his words, but his voice—feather soft and suddenly young— betrayed him. Even his face, strangely boyish due to his quivering lip, held a silent conversation. He was just as terrified of the Wolf as every other villager.

He wanted to leave. And Marjorie would not keep that freedom from him.

As much as she dreamed of life on the other side, a Woodsman's entire life was dedicated to freeing the village. Day in and day out, they used all their strength to level trees and push farther into Mirkwood. They ached for a way out just as much as Marjorie did.

"The moment you saw Vivian, I knew," Marjorie whispered. "You never allowed yourself to dream of life outside of this Village until that army came. You finally found a way out of this place. Take it."

"We found a way out of this place, Marjorie," he hissed. He shook his head; a rueful expression crossed his sharp features. He curled his huge body inward and hung his head down, caught on studying the cracks in her floorboards. He wanted to hide from her penetrating gaze, but despite his attempt to fold himself in half and shapeshift, Marjorie saw all his pain.

"Why?" he whispered the question. "Has it not always been your dream?"

"My Grandmother is dying," she admitted. "Brushpaw, Petyr."

"Brushpaw—" he froze, understanding crossing his face and then, another wave of anger coursed through his body. The fresh new rage not directed toward her, but to the sick twist of fate. "Will you—" he paused for a quick moment and caught Marjorie's eyes. "Will you miss me?" His deep voice seemed impossibly small.

"Oh," Marjorie rushed forward and wrapped her fingers over his thick wrists. "Of course, you ridiculous boy. You are my dearest friend and the bravest Woodsman I know. I will miss you more than you can even imagine."

With her right hand, she pushed a stray curl away from his wet eyes and smiled softly. A dry pain crawled up her throat, it was something caught between a cry and angry scream. She never had to say goodbye to anyone before. Her mother and father were gone. To her surprise—it hurt more than she expected.

"Beyond is big," he whispered. "I fear if I leave you here, I will never see you again."

She smiled at the innocence of his words. The Woodsman was scared of what the future held for them.

Marjorie hooked a small hand beneath his chin and lifted his face up. Although he remained quiet at the movement, his cheeks tinged with a bright, ruddy red.

"You have an awful lot of fears going on in that big head of yours, brave Woodsman," she whispered.

He nodded at her words.

"Once you reach Beyond, go fetch me an army," she said. "One day, come back and take me to a world outside of this Village. Show me all the places you've seen."

Marjorie closed her eyes and focused on the radiating heat coming from his body. Like this, sitting together close to her fireplace and listening to the gentle thrumming of his heartbeat, she could imagine a world where he returned, older and weary from travels. If he left Core, there would be no more thorns, aching callouses or days wasted working under the sun, cutting down trees. He could be a man like the Wardeness, someone with an army of marching men clad in silver.

"I love you," Petyr whispered the confession.

At his words, she fell back into her present reality and smiled at her friend. She would miss his kindness the most.

"I love you too, Petyr," she replied. A grin spread across his face as she continued to speak. "I love the fires we build together and the company you give me. Petyr, you are my greatest and dearest friend. Being here without you will be a challenge I—"

"No," Petyr cut her off. He ripped his hand away from her touch. The smile dropped from his face, and in its place, a scowl full of shame. "No, I love you, Marjorie. I have loved you for years... I—" he trailed off, unable to complete his sentence while his panic grew.

Marjorie lost the ability to speak. There were always whispers in the village growing up, stories and rumors surrounding both of them—people claiming they were both stupid and star-crossed.

She was neither of those things.

"You truly did not know?" Petyr whispered, shocked. He stood from his wooden stool and Marjorie followed the quick movement. Although she wanted to pull her gaze away from him, she stared into his dark eyes. They welled with frustrated tears. "I—I have followed you around for years, Marjorie. Every morning, I run to you. Every night, I make sure you are safe and... and warm." He kicked a stray piece of bark into the fireplace and sparks flew up at the sudden movement.

"Forgive me," she whispered. "Would you believe me if I told you I thought it was just friendship that bonded us two?" Marjorie didn't know if she should be angry or ashamed of her ignorance. Now, she ached to ease the deep crease between his brows and once again and pacify the waves of shame and fear that rolled over him.

"Friendship—" Petyr turned into a blur of curly, golden hair. Heat pooled to his pale cheeks and he blinked frantically, unable to stop wet tears from forming on his blonde eyelashes. He clenched his teeth in a desperate effort to keep his emotions locked inside and hidden away from view.

Silence washed over the room. With each passing second, Marjorie would open her mouth in attempt to find the right words, and then snap her jaw shut. There was nothing she could possibly say to comfort him in this moment.

"I am staying," Petyr whispered finally.

She shook her head. "No—I am not asking you to do that—"

"I love you Marjorie," he admitted. "If I left you here, there would be nothing in Beyond for me."

Author's Note

So, did you enjoy it? Did you see it coming? Ahh. I love my little Petyr baby, but I love Majorie's independence even more.