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

Chapter Nine: A Little Bird

AN

New chapter! Sorry for the delay, for some reason, my creativity was completely lacking this week and I am behind on writing. I am excited for you guys to read Chapter Twelve though! 

I was talking to a close friend (@averyclements, to be exact) and realized, there is a divide between who Marjorie should be with. A love triangle... if I do say so myself. She likes Petyr best. And what say you, dear reader? 

Like always, the orange morning sun slowly rose above the horizon and showered the Village in a warm, welcoming glow. Marjorie liked mornings best. It was the only time where every inch of Core seemed like a fairy tale come true. Harsh shadows and mud-spattered snow now glimmered with an apricot shine, as if the sun had brought a new beginning to the land it shone on.

The first glimmers of light pushed in through the wooden shutters of her window. Although it crawled up Petyr's broad back, he did little to acknowledge the new day. For the last hour, he numbly stared at the dead gray embers in her fireplace, accepting their new fate together.

"Are you going to wish goodbye to your family?" Marjorie asked in a gentle voice. While he waded in silence, she sat at her dining table and fed her raven pieces of dried fruit from her hands. The bird was clueless to the tight tension trapped in the room, instead it happily dove its black beak against her palm and ate its fill.

"No," Petyr said. He wanted to say more, she could tell by the angry crease caught between his brows. But his jaw was already set.

Marjorie turned to her Devilhair. It hung in strands from the rickety railing of her staircase. The red was a welcomed contrast against the earthy tones of her home. She touched the thin leaves dangling off its thick stem and frowned at the damp surface. When the river water finally dried from her harvest, she could mash it into a paste and boil it down to a thick concentrate for Sicily.

"They are leaving soon," Marjorie said.

For the past half hour, soldiers knocked door to door to offer help to anyone who may need it. They loaded up their boat full of miscellaneous items—from livestock to furniture, the villagers were unsure what would hold value in Beyond. Half the soldiers were assigned to man the ship. The remaining would lead the villagers through the forest with Vivian as their brave shepherd.

"Good," Petyr told her. "The more ground they can cover during the day, the less likely it is for the Wolf to kill."

Marjorie opened her mouth to speak, but her words were stolen by a rapid, loud knocking on her front door. Her raven jostled up at the movement and clapped its wings out and up, pushing itself into the air.

"Calm now," she attempted to soothe the bird. "It is unlocked, simply come inside," Marjorie shouted to her unexpected visitor.

Instead, the knocking only continued, this time, increasing in volume

She abandoned the upset raven and rushed to the door. The young woman twisted the silver knob and swung it open, blind to whoever stood on the other side. She prayed for a nameless soldier, it would be easy to decline his offer. But if it were Petyr's mother—or his grandmother—Marjorie's tongue turned dry at the thought.

She was taking away their only son.

On her porch stood a tall, willowy figure, like one of the trees from Mirkwood. Whoever it was looked as though they belonged to the forest.

The Wardeness.

Against the backdrop of her small, wooden porch, the woman seemed larger than Marjorie expected. She wore the same silver armor as the night before. Her limbs were long and slender, but underneath the tailored cut of her gambeson sleeve was evidence of strong, lean muscle.