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

Chapter Ten: Exodus

AN:

Happy Sunday! What have you done today! I've binge-watched all of ATLA and made mushrooms for breakfast. 

ALSO- We are on ACT II! What! 

Hold onto your butts. Things are about to get crazy! 

Together, Marjorie and Petyr climbed to the top of Oak Point to witness the villagers' exodus from Core. Once the morning sun reached the top of the clear, cobalt sky, the villagers lined themselves up like soldiers—obediently.

"I do not like this," Marjorie whispered to her friend.

He didn't look away from the villagers and their compact formation. From this distance, with their backs to them and packed tightly together, it would be impossible for him to accurately spot his family. But that didn't stop him from watching, waiting for any clue that may pinpoint his father's broad shoulders or his mother's golden curls.

She wondered what it must feel like to be Petyr in this moment. She possessed no family to mourn other than Sicily. But her Grandmother was not disappearing with the morning sun, instead she withered away in her own home, too stubborn to leave her ghosts.

"What will we do here?" Petyr whispered in a dejected voice.

Marjorie leaned from where she sat against the scrub oak and set her chin on Petyr's shoulder. He shuddered at the intimacy of the touch, that was something she needed to get used to—his want.

"We have nothing to do but wait for the Wolf," she replied.

She closed her eyes and imagined Fenris—tall and lean and dangerous. She wondered how much a threat he was to her, if he actually meant what he promised. There is no harm here with me.

"And go to your Grandmother's house," Petyr said, yanking her out of her thoughts. "Do you have the Devilhair?"

She lifted a finger to the basket next to them. The lid was closed shut, hiding its valuable content. Inside, the Devilhair was packaged in two glass jars. After mashing the dried leaves into a thick paste, she spent the morning boiling it down into a vibrantly red concentrate, it turned to a dry, chalky powder. It would be perfect in Sicily's afternoon tea.

"They are leaving," Marjorie whispered.

The villagers started their trek to Beyond. The wooden gates of Core opened slowly, like the mouth of a yawning giant. At the front of the crowd, Vivian led the way on a bone white steed. From where Marjorie watched, it appeared as though she rode on the back of a ghost. She rose her sword towards the east. It glimmered underneath the sunlight. She lowered the blade past Woodsman Landing, towards the heart of Mirkwood. Her soldiers jabbed their spears into the air in answer to whatever she must have cried out. Marjorie imagined it to be something along the lines of "Onward!" or "To Beyond!"

"We have no reason to wait here anymore," Petyr said as the last handful of villagers disappeared from their sight. "It will be sunset in a few hours, and I have no hope to run in with the Wolf."

Marjorie rose to her feet and reached her hand down to Petyr. Although he could lift himself up from the ground, he slid his palm between her welcoming fingers.

"To Grandmother's house we go," she said.

* * *

The cobblestone path to Sicily's home eventually turned to a trodden-down trail. Over the years, the green grass was flattened by the footsteps of many travelers and finally, gave way to the dry soil beneath. Around the edges, strings of yellow grass clung to life.