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

Chapter Sixteen: Origins

AN:
Hello! I hope you enjoy this (looooooong) chapter. Above is a beautiful cover made by ToniCastellani <3

The blood spilling down her neck felt different now that her life no longer belonged to the sunrise. Instead of an annoying sting, the wound morphed into a real threat. There was no promise that she would die at the end of the night. There was no reason to let herself bleed until her limbs turned weak and her vision blurred.

"What do you mean she is not dying tonight?" Petyr asked. He pressed a damp rag against the back of her skull. She welcomed the sudden rush of cold water, it forced Marjorie to ground herself in the moment.

"With the Blood Moon, the night will not end until the next summer solstice," Fenris replied. He shooed Petyr away with a wave of his hand. The cold rag on her head disappeared. A rush of water replaced the pressure, it seemed as though Fenris was perpetually ready to lick her wounds clean. "In Beyond, they call it the Long Night. It will not take your life, Marjorie, at least, not yet."

Petyr smiled until his face turned a delighted flushed pink. She attempted to return his blinding, white grin. But a sick pit still ate away inside her stomach.

Her life wasn't promised. Her death was simply put on hold.

"I fear you misunderstand me, Woodsman." Fenris pressed the rag back in place, applying an almost unbearable tight pressure to her skull. In his other hand, he revealed an opened jar of Devilshair.

Marjorie turned sick at the sight of it. How useless it had been to her Grandmother.

"With the Long Night, no sun comes. No harvest will be sowed. Your animals will die. People are not meant to live in this darkness." Fenris scooped a hand into the jar and returned with both of his fingers covered in the red plant. He pressed the red paste into her skin.

She breathed out through her nose. The exhaling air blistered across the delicate skin of her cupid's bow, for a moment, she mistook it for rising steam. Pain came with Devilshair. Then, a numbing clarity.

"There," Fenris whispered in her ear. "Does it feel better now?"

She nodded. Before she could offer him thanks, a sharp laugh came from Petyr.

"Is that all it takes to frighten the big bad Wolf?" the Woodsman asked. A smirk appeared on his pink lips. "You are scared of a simple fortnight of darkness?"

"No, you misunderstood me, boy," Fenris whispered. Sometimes Marjorie forgot Fenris only reached Petyr's brow. For some reason, when he stood with cool anger simmering quietly beneath his perfect features, he appeared bigger. "I am not people. I am a Wolf. The night is where creatures like me thrive."

"Creatures like..." Marjorie hesitated before she continued. "Creatures like Vivian?"

He smiled.

"You are clever," he said. "And you are unfortunately right."

"I thought you said the witch was no threat." Petyr huffed out an angry breath.

"I fear that has always been something humans do not understand," Fenris replied. "Magick is always fickle. There are ways to bend the world to your will. Magick has a natural palladium to ensure every spell, curse, and creature has a limit. When the night comes, Magick strengthens. When the sun rises, it wanes."

"And with the Blood Moon, the night stays," Marjorie said. "What happens without the sun, Fenris?"

"Magick becomes no longer fickle," he whispered. "It becomes limitless."