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

Chapter Twelve: A Rabbit

AN: 

Guys! Last night I completed part II! Oh my gosh, it's crazy not to be at the same speed as you all, but all I can say is I am extremely excited for you to learn more about the secrets I am about to uncover. Shit is about to go down in approximately two chapters. 

ALSO: 1K! Reads! How grateful am I to have you guys behind me. Thank you for the love. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. 

PS: You can follow me on Instagram @ authorjunevalentine

The downpour continued over Marjorie's words, casting a darkening gray hue over the surrounding world. It smelled like wet earth. Now, there was a stickiness in the air, which caused her red hair to itch at the roots. Marjorie lifted her foot and discovered rainwater pooling together to form thick puddles of clay mud beneath her boots.

Petyr extended his hatchet out straight, allowing fat droplets to dampen the dried blood on the blade. Then, he wiped it clean on his wet trousers. The fabric, darker because of the rain, hid new smears of red. Perhaps the cold water would wash away the blood before it stained.

"Vivian did this," Petyr accepted Marjorie's words. There was no hesitation in his deep voice. "What does that mean?"

Fenris took two long strides forward, leaving muddy footsteps in his wake. The downpour caused his hair to fall in one, wavy curtain. He looked like he belonged in a storm.

He sidled almost flush against Marjorie, until only a few inches remained between Marjorie's face and his. She wanted to drop her gaze to the ground and stare at the muddied ends of her red cape, suddenly too self-aware of the intensity of his scrutiny. She fought against the reaction, and instead, kept her eyes up to study all his strange beauty. Although his wild gaze appeared young, there was something unmistakably ancient hidden between his lashes.

"It means she isn't who she claims to be," Fenris announced bluntly, leaving no room for questions. His words pushed warm, sweet breath over her cheeks, a harsh contrast against the harsh smell of wet soil.

He thrusted his hand forward and looped it through the handle of her wicker basket, taking it away from her with one, smooth wordless motion. The Wolf tucked it between his forearm and hip, and then swiveled on his feet in the direction of Grandmother's house.

"Who is she then?" Marjorie asked. She found her fingers had slipped into the velvet folds of her cape, searching for any kind of security while Fenris took his sweet time to answer.

His mouth widened with an amused, little smile. It was not one of happiness. There was an unfamiliar, bitter edge to the smooth line of his lips.

"The forest has many enemies," Fenris confessed. He sounded old, older than Marjorie or Petyr—even, she thought, Grandmother. "But Vivian, she is not like the others. She has a broken heart, one that has looked to hatred to heal. For that, it has collapsed on itself, over and over again."

"And for what reason?" Marjorie asked, unable to stop her curiosity.

"Does it matter?" Fenris shook his head. "Who she once was is no longer what she is now. Vivian is no Wardeness, but a witch."

Petyr hissed at his words. "Wait," Petyr stopped trailing behind them, causing a ripple effect for Marjorie and Fenris. A quiet settled between them. The rain sounded harsher now, in the way it does when a storm is steadily becoming more dangerous. Branches of energy crackled through the air, like in the seconds before lightning strikes down to the earth. "Do you mean to tell me I have sent my family to die with a necromancer at the hilt?"