Chapter Eighteen: Catch

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Author's Note 

Be prepared for rapid fire uploading! I am finishing this book tonight! Finishing touches will soon be up! Please, vote and comment, as all of your love only helps point me in the right direction. Thank you for this journey once again! It was one hellllll of a ride! 

It was easy to track Vivian when a Wolf sniffed her out.

Despite the witch's clever attempts to cover her trail— crossing the river at two separate points and sending half of her soldiers into the opposite direction—Fenris's sensitive nose combed through each scent until he pinpointed Vivian.

"She smells like rose and blood," he said when he reached for a low hanging branch and brought it to his nose. "Rotten and sweet."

Hours ago, she clung to the outskirts of Woodsmen Landing, leading the villagers in circles until they finally descended into the dark forest.

Marjorie followed closely behind Fenris in a blur of red velvet, her eyes traced the outline of his broad shoulders, recounting each ridge and muscle his body offered. Behind the young woman, Petyr clung close. Each time she glanced back, Petyr would pull his eyes away from the surrounding environment and offer her what he likely assumed to be a comforting smile. Despite his efforts, a tremble in his pink lips remained, proving that his fear overshadowed his brave face.

Above them, the red moon still hung, making it impossible to decipher if it was meant to be morning or day. By the heaviness under Marjorie's eyes, she imagined it was early morning.

Despite three nights passing, sleep only found Marjorie in the few hours she spent beside her Grandmother. Even then, in her flighty slumber, the appearance of Cedar tired her mind. The moments with her Grandfather stole her energy, leaving her vision blurry and her strides wobbling.

Somehow, Marjorie dragged her feet to the edge of Mirkwood. Her footsteps slowed once the forest came into view, an innate fear strumming through her.

As much as Mirkwood was beautiful, a danger lurked somewhere between the trees and the thick, rising mist. Underneath the Blood Moon, everything morphed into varying shades of red. The fog reflected the moonbeams, covering the forest in a moving sea of crimson.

Marjorie pressed her palms against the smooth bark of the closest tree. Like before, it moved as though a strum of energy traveled through its slender trunk. The tree climbed up and up, until it disappeared to a thin point in the cloudless night. The young woman closed her eyes, wondering how the world appeared from the steady gaze of Mother above. Did she mourn for the fate of her devoted? Or was Vivian's presence a curse she believed they deserved?

"Do you truly believe it is safe to cross into Mirkwood?" Petyr asked. His hand snaked around Marjorie's shoulder, pulling the young woman out of her thoughts.

"With me, there will be little to fear," Fenris said from where he stood, head raised to the air and mouth titled open as if he searched for Vivian's scent.

"I was not asking you," Petyr whispered. "Marjorie, do you believe you will be safe inside the forest?"

She rolled her lips into a thin line, taking a second to think of her answer. Inside the forest, there were secrets never shared, and steps never taken by villagers. So many unknowns remained.

When they were children, the unknown terrified the Woodsman. He clung to what he knew—the well-worn hilt of his father's axe, the safe brick walls of his home, the rituals that promised him mercy. Marjorie never understood that steady way of life, but she did envy it. If she could just place all of her worries into a fate that was well-traveled, perhaps her existence would not continue to exhaust her.

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