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

Chapter Twenty-Five: Rise

Fenris remained frozen to the ground, his hands still wrapped around the bottom of her shoulders. His fingers continued to delicately trace the outline of her face, afraid if he pressed too hard, the girl would shatter like glass.

He heard Petyr's feet hit the ground before his voice. The Woodsman climbed nearly to the top of the tree before they plummeted to the ground. How useless they both were.

"Where is she—" Petyr's voice stopped. He must have never seen a human like this, broken and bloody and undoubtedly dead.

But Fenris had.

The Wolf did not pull his eyes from Marjorie's body. He had no want to. Each passing second meant another inch closer to the last goodbye—when all the warmth in her body was replaced by the cool touch of the surrounding red night and her limbs turned hard to touch.

"No!" Petyr shrieked, the volume so frightening it hurt Fenris's sensitive ears. The Woodsman dropped to his knees beside Fenris. On the nape of his neck, the stale stench of regret clung.

The Wolf did not want to relinquish Marjorie from his grasp, but he guided her limp body to the other man. It was almost cruel to watch the man's expression change from disbelief to an undeniable sureness.

Once life left the body, it turned heavy.

It turned into something else.

Something Fenris hated.

That was not his Marjorie.

He turned, stumbling forward from the pain that still traveled from the healing wound in his back. The Wolf cursed from the sting, and his words brought the attention of the Woodsman.

"W-where are you going?" Petyr's voice was watery. His tears made the air smell like something other than death.

Fenris hated that. It only confirmed his worst fear. Marjorie was gone.

For now.

"The sun has not yet risen," he said.  

The End.