A Wolf in Red’s Woods – Part II
Story Written & Told by
Red Valois, Élode Valois,
Madeline Valois, & Sylvie Châtillon
Visuals & Imagery Created by
Red Valois, Élode Valois, Madeline Valois, Sylvie Châtillon, Faylinn Willowshade,
Rowena Brightmoor, & Scott Bryant
With care and reverence, their story is shared by
Scott Bryant at the request of Red Valois, Élode Valois, Madeline Valois, & Sylvie Châtillon
❦
Grandmother Madeleine’s Cottage
I finally reached the clearing where my grandmother’s house stood. The two-story stone cottage looked just as it always did—warm, inviting, peaceful against the forest’s edge. But the tension bubbling inside me told a different story.
I sighed, relieved to have made it this far without any real trouble. The plan was still on track. Adjusting the basket in my hand, I stepped onto the porch, the creak of the wooden boards louder than I expected.
“Okay, so far, so good. No wolf to mess this up.”
I raised my hand to knock on the door, my knuckles hovering just above the wood. My pulse quickened—not from fear, of course, but from the anticipation of what came next.
And then, just as I was about to knock, I heard it.
The rustle.
A low growl, followed by the unmistakable scrape of claws against dirt.
Before I could turn, a dark blur lunged from the side of the house.
(Fenris’ Voice, mockingly)
“Surprise!”
I stumbled back, my heart leaping into my throat. His teeth gleamed in the dim light, his eyes alight with malicious glee.
“Oh, Fenris. What a delightful surprise. Just what I needed today.”
He tilted his head, that sinister grin widening.
(Fenris’ Voice, low and menacing)
“Did I scare you, little girl? You should be more careful. These woods are dangerous.”
“Little girl? I’m a woman, you overgrown dog. And no, you didn’t scare me. I just didn’t expect you to stoop to a jump scare. Classy.”
His chuckle was a low, rumbling sound, as if the forest itself were laughing with him.
(Fenris’ Voice)
“Brave words, Red. But let’s see how brave you really are.”
He leaned in, his breath hot and foul, and for a moment, I was struck by the sheer arrogance of him.
Honestly, I’ve seen scarier men at the village market.
But I couldn’t let my guard down—not yet. My mind raced as I steadied my breathing, my fingers tightening around the basket handle.
“Well, as much as I’d love to chat, I have somewhere to be. Excuse me.”
I turned back to the door, raising my hand to knock again, this time louder.
“Grandmother, it’s me, Red! Open the door!”
From inside, my grandmother’s voice came, calm and steady as always.
(Madeleine’s Voice, perfectly unbothered)
“Come in, dear. I’ve been expecting you.”
I pushed the door open, stepping inside quickly. Fenris followed, his claws clicking on the wooden floor as he entered behind me, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.
The Grove answers once per house—
and only when our blood stands together.
The air seemed to tighten, as if the forest itself paused to listen.
Little does he know…
❦
The Confrontation
I barely had time to steady myself when the sharp click of a rifle split the air. I turned just in time to see Grandmother Madeleine rise from her chair, rifle leveled at Fenris, posture as calm as if she were pouring tea.
(Madeleine’s Voice, cold and steady)
“Lay a filthy claw on my Red, and I’ll end you where you’re standing, you son of a bastard wolf.”
(Fenris’ Voice, taunting)
“Brave words from an old woman. Think that little toy will stop me?”
(Madeleine’s Voice, cold and steady)
“Shut it, Fenris. Oh I know your name. You’re about to learn mine.”
That’s Grandmother Madeleine for you—never one to mince words, especially with a rifle in hand. Fenris snarled, his lip curling in a mocking grin.
But Grandmother didn’t flinch. Her finger rested firmly on the trigger, her eyes locked on the wolf.
(Madeleine’s Voice, sharp)
“You want a war? You’ve got one. Bienvenue en enfer, Fenris — Welcome to Hell. You’re in my house now. J’ai amené des renforts — I brought reinforcements.”
Before he could lunge, the door burst open, and in strode my mother, Élodie, with Sylvie close behind. Élodie’s knife glinted in the dim light, and Sylvie’s axe looked ready to split Fenris in two.
(Élodie’s Voice, calm but lethal)
“Fais-lui goûter à l’enfer,” Make him taste hell. Hello, Fenris. Thought we’d join the party. Time to put an end to your little reign of terror.”
(Sylvie’s Voice, with fiery intensity)
“Remember me? I’ve got a thing about wolves overstaying their welcome.”
(Fenris’ Voice, a low, furious rumble)
“You think four women change fate? I am older than your names.”
(Madeleine’s Voice, with slow, absolute certainty)
“Older doesn’t mean wiser. It means tired. And we are finished being tired.”
❦
The Battle is On
Fenris snarled, backing toward the shadows, his eyes darting between us, rage and desperation brewing beneath his bravado. His movements, once fluid, became erratic as he realized he was surrounded.
(Fenris’ Voice, venomous)
“You think this is over? You’ve only delayed your doom. I’ll tear through this village, one family at a time.”
(Madeleine’s Voice, ice-cold)
“Not in my woods, you bastard wolf.”
Grandmother stepped forward, rifle steady—raising the old iron-barrel rifle passed down from the female marshland hunters—cold, worn, and still fatal.
Then Madeleine’s voice rang out, steady as ever.
(Madeleine’s Voice, commanding)
“Red, Sylvie, move into position. Élodie, distract him.”
Fenris lunged.
The rifle cracked.
The bullet sang past his ear. A graze. Blood. A snarl—then a stumble.
Hunger gone. Calculation. Fear.
I tightened my grip on my dagger, the weight of the moment thrumming through my veins.
This was it—our plan, our fight. Not fear. Resolve.
This isn’t about the curse. It’s about who he’s always been—a coward who thrives on control, on fear. Not today.
Without hesitation, I moved into position, dagger at the ready. My mother circled Fenris, her movements deliberate and precise, her knife catching the faint light.
❦
Élodie Conjures Something Old
Élodie quickly conjured a salt circle and stepped forward—calm as ever. But the air changed the moment her foot crossed the threshold. She moved like she wasn’t entirely herself anymore—like the forest had threaded its will through her spine and whispered, “Speak now.”
She didn’t start in French.
No.
She opened her mouth—
and something older came through.
It was Occitan.
(Élodie’s Voice, chanting)
“Raïtz de tèrra, leva-te, estaca lo mal.
Vent de bòsc, vira, trenca la carn.
Aigas de luna, encèrcla, sòrta.
Per la fòrça vièlha, que lo lop càiga!”
(“Roots of the earth, rise and bind,
Winds of the forest, twist and grind,
Moonlit waters, shield and flow,
By ancient power, lay the beast low!”)
The air shimmered.
A faint glow rose—soft, pulsing, not light exactly.
Her words had become a barrier, weaving between us and the wolf like thread made of wind and breath.
My breath caught.
I didn’t know the words.
But I felt them.
Felt the roots stir underfoot.
Felt the air fold in on itself like it had decided it was done being neutral.
Felt the candles gutter and hold.
Felt the forest listening.
I took a step forward, dagger steady, every nerve in my body humming with something new. Not just adrenaline—something more. Power. Purpose.
And then I caught it—the way my mother’s gaze flicked toward me, just for a second.
The air was thick with tension, but I saw it. The way she looked at me. Not with worry, not with hesitation—with certainty.
Élodie Valois, my mother, the woman who spent my entire life preparing me for moments like this, knew I was ready.
She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to.
And that? That meant everything.
(Élodie’s Voice, louder)
Give up, Fenris. This ends here.
And for the first time, I didn’t just believe her. I knew it, too.
I circled, dagger in hand, my eyes scanning for an opening.
❦
Fenris Runs…Upstairs
And then, like a bolt of lightning, Fenris moved.
“There he goes—up the stairs!”
A blur of fur and claws. Fast. Unnervingly fast.
“Did Fenris just run on two legs?”
For a moment, he looked human. But not for long.
Grandmother and I locked eyes. The world went quiet.
No words. Just understanding.
(Madeleine’s Voice, growling with certainty)
This is what I expected from a coward. That wolf’s not getting out of this house. Not on my watch.
She tightened her grip on her rifle, her expression set like stone.
(Madeleine’s Voice, commanding)
Red, we take the stairs. We’ll draw him out. Let’s move!
From downstairs, Sylvie’s voice called out, her axe ready.
(Sylvie’s Voice, calling up)
Élodie and I will hold things down here. Fenris doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. We’ve got this.
I nodded, adrenaline surging as I followed Grandmother toward the stairs. Fenris might think he could outlast us, but he had no idea who he was up against.
Grandmother turned to Sylvie, Élodie, and me, her voice firm and unshakable.
(Madeleine’s Voice, with fierce determination)
“Be ready. We strike fast and hard—no hesitation. Draw him out. When I give the signal, give him hell and finish him. Tear this house down from roof to cellar if you must. Show him who’s boss in these woods. He crossed the line; he walked into his own execution.”
Fenris’s growls swelled from upstairs, a low warning that shook the rafters.
The sharp click of Grandmother’s rifle cut clean through the tension—final as her words.
(Madeleine’s Voice, almost smiling)
“And they say women can’t fight. Let’s go, Red. Time to send this wolf to Hell.”
Then, she shouted—louder than Fenris’s rage:
(Madeleine’s Voice, calling out)
“You hear that, Fenris? The woods won’t save you this time!”
❦
Moving Upstairs
We moved cautiously upstairs, Grandmother and I, our senses razor-sharp. Every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of shadow felt alive, brimming with danger.
I caught the way Grandmother’s grip tightened on her rifle—not in fear, but in something else.
Then, she exhaled. A slow, measured breath.
I know that look. That’s the “remembering old battles” look. The “this isn’t the first monster I’ve hunted, and it won’t be the last” look.
She’s been here before. Not in this house, not against Fenris, but in the fight.
Maybe it was the Shadow Vultures she once outwitted in the Northern Peaks.
Maybe it was that time she single-handedly fended off the Dune Stalkers—a ruthless pack of desert raiders who could cross the dunes faster than the wind.
No one else had ever escaped them alive. Madeleine did. And she left them running.
Or maybe—just maybe—she was seeing herself in me.
I wasn’t the little girl she used to tell stories to anymore. I wasn’t just Red, the one who inherited the family fire.
I was standing beside her, holding my own.
(Madeleine’s Voice, in a low, commanding whisper)
“You take that side of the hallway; I’ll take this one. Do not hesitate to strike.”
I nodded, mirroring her stance. Just before she turned, she hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.
In the dim glow of the lantern light, I caught it. A flicker of something in her eyes—not worry, not hesitation, but pride. The kind that wasn’t loud or boastful, but steady, certain. Like she’d always known this moment would come.
Then, she exhaled, tightening her grip on her rifle.
The hallway stretched out before us, the dim light throwing long, jagged shadows on the walls.
(Madeleine’s Voice, sharp and urgent)
“Red, look out!”
We drop. Slide. Rise. His swipe splits air.
A snarl. Frustration.
“Nice try, Fenris! You’ll have to do better than that.”
Grandmother glanced at me, her expression a mix of concern and pride.
(Madeleine’s Voice, steady)
“You good, Red?”
“Better than ever. Not a scratch.”
A fierce grin spread across her face as she raised her rifle.
(Madeleine’s Voice, determined)
“That’s my Red. Let’s finish this damn wolf.”
We pressed forward, relentless. Fenris backed away, his growls rumbling like thunder. Grandmother’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.
(Madeleine’s Voice, mocking)
“Where are you going, Fenris? We’re just getting started. What’s the matter? Scared of me? You damn well should be!”
Her rifle clicked, the sound echoing through the hallway as she aimed with unshakable resolve.
(Madeleine’s Voice, louder, her voice dripping with venom)
“Tick-tock, Fenris. You’re in my house now. Run, run, little wolf, your time is up! Not so tough, are we?”
❦
All-Out War
The chase was chaos—a blur of motion, noise, and fury as Fenris darted down the hallway and back to the stairs. Grandmother and I followed, relentless. The house felt alive with the energy of the fight, every creak of wood and burst of sound feeding the fire within me.
Grandmother charged after him, her boots thundering against the stairs.
(Madeleine’s Voice, fierce)
“Heads up! Wolf incoming! He’s not leaving this house.”
Fenris, desperate now, made a break for the main level. But as he hit the bottom of the stairs, he froze, his claws skidding on the wooden floor.
We had him surrounded.
Fenris skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs—cornered.
Sylvie and Mother stood firm, weapons gleaming.
(Sylvie’s Voice)
“Going somewhere, wolf?”
(Élodie’s Voice)
“You’ve run out of forest, Fenris.”
He snarled, but the flicker of doubt gave him away.
(Fenris’ Voice)
“I’ll tear you apart before—”
(Sylvie’s Voice)
“Try it. You’ll fail.”
I raised my dagger at the top of the stairs.
“You’re surrounded, Fenris. This ends now.”
(Fenris’ Voice)
“You underestimate me.”
❦
All Fairy Tale Hell Breaks Loose
Grandmother cocked her rifle, the sound like a final bell.
(Madeleine’s Voice)
“Time’s up, Fenris. Justice is being served.”
We all met eyes—united.
(Madeleine’s Voice)
“NOW!”
And all hell broke loose.
We moved as one, striking from all sides. Élodie conjured a blinding surge of light, her magic crackling through the air like a storm.
(Élodie’s Voice, chanting)
“De fòrça naissa lo freg,
Mon vam l’espaventa, l’escura e l’bleg!”
“Out of might, make him fright,
Compel my power, drive him from sight!”
The spell struck Fenris, sending him stumbling back with a furious howl.
(Madeleine’s Voice, shouting)
Positions!
Chairs flew, tables overturned, wood splinters scattered like sparks.
Fenris roared, his rage boiling over.
❦
Sylvie Strikes
(Madeleine, sharply)
“Sylvie, counter left. Red, take the rear.”
(Élodie, irritated)
“He just ruined my favorite chair.”
(Madeleine)
“Forget the chair.”
And then—Sylvie struck.
Not a charge. Not a show. A decision.
Her axe cut across Fenris’s shoulder—clean, ugly, real.
He snapped at air in blind fury—
and she answered, already there, cutting through his chaos like she’d been waiting for permission.
(Sylvie)
“For the woods.”
Another strike.
(Sylvie)
“For my sisters.”
I ducked under a flying table, the world a blur of wood smoke and splintered light.
I surged forward, dagger steady.
“For all women.”
❦
The Kitchen
Fenris darted into the kitchen.
(Sylvie)
“There he goes!”
Madeleine didn’t flinch. She hurled the cast-iron cocotte—chipped, blackened, perfect.
It struck stone inches from his skull. Stone dented. Wolf flinched.
(Madeleine)
“Bread riots of 1789,” she growled. “Still good for breaking tyrants.”
Élodie stepped forward. No chant. No circle.
Just an ancient snap of the tongue—older than patience.
(Élodie, under her breath)
“Fòcs vièlhs, frapa ara.”
The kitchen flared.
The hearth leapt toward him as if yanked by strings. Smoke curled with purpose.
I grabbed the iron skillet—
and together we drove him out of the kitchen like a broken myth, crashing back into the heart of the cottage.
“Sorry about the kitchen,” I panted.
(Madeleine, without looking at me)
“Later. We’ve got a wolf to destroy.”
❦
Take Him Down!
Fenris staggered, his movements frantic and wild. Élodie’s knife flashed as she struck with precision.
(Élodie’s Voice)
“This is for everyone you’ve harmed, Fenris.”
Grandmother’s voice rang out, commanding and fierce.
(Madeleine’s Voice, with finality)
“Red! Take him down!—for all of us!”
I stopped. Just for a breath. A heartbeat.
My grip on the dagger was steady, but for the first time, I felt the weight of it. The weight of all of it—this fight, my mother’s legacy, my grandmother’s history, everything that led to this moment.
And then I heard it—not in words, but in feeling.
The rustle of leaves outside, the hush of the floor beneath my boots. The forest was listening. And I was, at last, listening back.
“The forest will always tell you what it needs.” My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, not as memory—but as truth.
I wasn’t just ready. I had arrived.
Fenris was wounded, snarling, but he still grinned—like he knew something I didn’t.
(Fenris’ Voice, low and knowing)
“You think this makes you free? I’ve seen that gaze once—long ago. A girl who wore the Grove like a cloak. She laughed at me. The woods laughed with her.”
My breath caught.
The flicker in his eyes wasn’t fear.
It was recognition.
But not of me. Of something he had chosen. A darkness that shaped him, that consumed him.
His grin faltered, just slightly, when he saw it wasn’t in me.
“Not today,” I whispered.
The sound of my mother whispering spells into the wind. The way my grandmother held her rifle steady, never doubting for a second. Sylvie’s axe, raised in defiance.
I wasn’t alone. I never was.
My grip tightened. The dagger flashed.
Fenris began to lunge toward me.
“Je n’ai pas besoin de protection—j’ai ma revanche!” (“I don’t need protection—I have my revenge!”)
My blade struck true. Time seemed to freeze as Fenris’s eyes widened—not in shock, but in a strange, almost knowing acceptance. His final breath came with a low, rattling exhale, as if whispering something too quiet to hear.
And then, he was gone.
And never would be. He died knowing I was free.
And I lived knowing I had ended him.
The house fell silent, save for the sound of our heavy breathing. Sunlight broke through the windows, casting golden rays over us.
We did it.
❦
The Wolf Defeated
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing. My chest heaved from the effort of the fight, my fingers trembling as I wiped the sweat from my brow. For a moment, everything was still. Fenris lay motionless at our feet, his once-terrifying presence reduced to a fading shadow.
“Is it over?”
I wanted the answer to be yes, but my pulse still thundered in my ears. Relief began to seep in, tempered by the raw intensity of what we’d just faced. My hands still shook, a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion coursing through me.
(Madeleine’s Voice, matter-of-fact)
“I haven’t moved that fast since the Northern Peaks chase 5 years ago.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her unflappable tone, even now.
(Élodie’s Voice, calmly wiping her blade)
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in action like that, Mother.”
(Madeleine’s Voice)
“You’re telling me. I didn’t think my heart could beat that fast.”
And it all went according to plan. Despite the improvising, we got it done. Mission accomplished, ladies. Fenris is finished. Good riddance.”
I exhaled, the weight of the battle settling over me. Months of planning, tracking, and strategizing had led to this moment. And now? It was done.
We did it. He followed me here, just like we knew he would, and we were ready. But even with all the preparation… it still feels surreal.
I glanced around the wrecked room, the signs of our hard-fought victory etched into every broken piece of furniture and splintered wood.
(Sylvie’s Voice, nodding)
“We weren’t just fighting a wolf. We were fighting for each other. For everything we stand for.”
I looked to my mother and grandmother, standing firm amidst the chaos. The bond between us—strengthened by fire and fury—felt unshakable.
This wasn’t just my victory. It was ours.
(Madeleine’s Voice, with quiet pride)
“Houses can be rebuilt, but family? Family is what matters. And today, we showed exactly who we are.”
(Élodie’s Voice, softly)
“And we did it together. No one of us could have done this alone.”
I nodded, their words sinking in. For the first time, I felt like I truly belonged among them—not just as their daughter or granddaughter, but as their equal.
The weight of what we had achieved settled over me, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like pride.
“Now what do we do about him?”
(Madeleine’s Voice, practical and unbothered)
“His burial’s all planned out. The trash collection’s coming any minute now. That’s his funeral—straight to the compost heap. Let the worms sort him out.”
I blinked, her words catching me off guard, before letting out a short laugh.
“Trash collection? Really?”
(Madeleine’s Voice)
“Red, I’ve been ten steps ahead of this whole thing. You’d better believe the fairy tale trash folks already got my message. This is their problem now.”
It was such a Madeleine thing to say that I couldn’t help but grin.
Only Grandmother could defeat a monster and schedule his disposal in the same breath.
❦
The Story Grows
In the days that followed, the village quickly heard of what we’d done. Our story spread like wildfire—a tale of courage and unity that inspired everyone who heard it.
“It’s not every day a family of fierce women takes down a monster like Fenris.”
And it wasn’t.
But for me, the victory wasn’t just about defeating Fenris. It was about defeating the doubts and fears that had once held me back.
It’s funny how facing a wolf can make everything else seem smaller.
I reflected on the battle often, replaying every strike, every moment of trust and unity. The doubts that had once plagued me—the nagging question of whether I could ever truly stand beside my mother and grandmother—were gone.
“I used to wonder if I belonged in their story. But now I know—I do.
With each passing day, I felt a new confidence building within me. I hadn’t just survived the forest’s darkest threat; I had become something more because of it.
I didn’t just join their legacy. I became part of it.
I glanced toward the Sacred Grove one morning, the wind whispering through the trees like a promise. A smile tugged at my lips.
“I’m not just part of their story anymore—I’m writing my own.”
And as the forest swayed around me, its shadows no longer felt as ominous.
This is just the beginning.
❦
Epilogue
Months had passed since Fenris’s defeat, and the forest had grown quiet. Too quiet. At first, the silence felt like a blessing—a reprieve after the chaos. But as the days stretched on, it began to feel… wrong.
There was something unsettling about the way the forest seemed to hold its breath. Even as we carried on with our work, the weight of the silence pressed down on us, heavier with each passing day.
Mother felt it, too.
(Élodie’s Voice, thoughtful)
“The balance here feels… off.”
I watched her as she walked through the Sacred Grove, her steps careful, her brow furrowed. The respect she commanded in the village had only grown after Fenris’s fall, but I could see the unease in her eyes.
She wasn’t wrong.
The shadows in the trees seemed darker now, as if the light didn’t dare touch them. The creatures that usually flitted through the woods were quieter, more restless. Even the wind felt different, carrying whispers I couldn’t quite understand.
The forest isn’t at peace. It’s waiting.
I stood at the edge of the woods one evening, my fingers brushing the cool bark of a tree. The air was heavy, charged with something I couldn’t name.
But this time, I wasn’t afraid.
The woods still whispered—in French. Not the crisp tongue of the village, but something older. Rounder. The dialect of witches who never forgot their names. The voice of grandmothers who whispered over boiling pots, of girls who disappeared into stories and came back louder.
As I stepped into the trees, I murmured the tune that had always lived in my bones:
“Promenons-nous dans les bois, pendant que le loup n’y est pas…”
(Let’s walk in the woods, while the wolf isn’t there…)
But the wolf had been there.
And he was never coming back.
The roots stirred beneath my boots. The wind curled around my shoulders, warm as a shawl.
The forest had always been watching. But now? It spoke my name.
Fenris was just the beginning.
I let out a slow sigh, the realization settling over me like a weight.
“He wasn’t the only monster hiding in these woods.”
Beneath the roots, Noxmar stirs. I see it now—sigils like Fenris’s etched into the stone of forgotten altars. A new pattern. A warning. A map.
Last night, I dreamed of a girl with silver eyes and a voice like a blade. She whispered one word:
“Draemora.”
I don’t know who she is yet. But I will.
The forest still watches. The silence still waits.
“I’ll be here. I’ll be ready. Not today. Not ever.”
And as the trees swayed around me and the roots humming beneath my feet again, I felt no fear—only resolve.
❦
The End? Not Yet!
(Red’s Voiceover)
“Hold on. You’ve seen how it ended. But did you really think we’d stop there? Happily ever after? Not on my watch.
Some will doubt this story — they always do.
So let me show you the night before: the plan, the fire, the trap.
Madeleine, Mother, and Sylvie wanted this part earlier.
But give away our big moment? Please.
My idea won. Of course it did.
And if this doesn’t convince you how ready we were… well, that’s on you.”
❦
Appendix:
“The Night Before the Trap“
Because some stories deserve to be understood, not just witnessed.
(Red’s Voiceover)
I wanted to call this scene Planning for the Kill.
Madeleine, Mother, and Sylvie said it sounded too Fenris.
Fair—but fairy tales are brutal. Just ask Snow White and Cinderella. Not the glittered-up versions—the originals, where blood pooled in glass slippers and girls were sold off like property.
But anyway, the moment you’ve been waiting for…”
Setting: A small, stone cottage at the edge of the Sacred Grove. Shadows flicker across the walls. A heavy storm rolls in outside. Inside, a fire crackles. Four women sit around a battered table—maps, sigils, knives, herbs, and an old rifle between them.
(Red’s Voiceover)
Before the blood. Before the forest called my name. Before I ended Fenris—There was this.
The night we stopped being just family—and became a force.
Some wolves are born. Others are fed.
(Madeleine, steadying the rifle)
“Then it’s settled. If all goes to plan, we’ll be rid of Fenris for good.
But don’t get overconfident—let him be the one who underestimates us.
It’ll only hasten his downfall. Just as planned.”
(Élodie, lighting candles in a deliberate triangle)
“Like any man, he follows the scent of power. The moment Red sets foot in that house, he’ll come inside. Uninvited. And our time to act.The Grove’s been humming strange lately. Something…old. Watching. Hungry.”
(Sylvie, sharpening her axe)
“We make him think it’s his idea. A lone girl in the woods. An easy target to manipulate and take advantage of. A legacy waiting to be broken. But swiftly deny him what he craves. Control. Terror. Over all women and girls.”
(Madeleine, steadying the rifle)
“And we don’t break. We don’t back down. Not this line. Not this time.
Red, Sylvie, and I have tracked his every move—from cave to village—for months. His weaknesses are evident.
But first rule of survival: stay alert, adapt fast. Élodie, Sylvie—when I say the words, ‘I brought some friends too’—that’s your cue. You come in hard. No hesitation. Give it all you got – your way. He won’t see it coming.
And if it comes to it…
(Madeleine cocks her rifle)
Do what you must.
And quick. So he suffers the pain he’s inflicted on everyone.”
(Red, quietly)
“And what if he’s stronger than we thought? This is Fenris—not a dragon, or some old fairy tale giant.
He’s something worse.
Worse than any man.
Something not human.
What if we’ve underestimated the depths of his sadistic depravity?”
They all look at Red.
(Madeleine, calm but fierce)
“We’re stronger than he ever imagined. Four women against one wolf.
We have the upper hand at every turn. He’ll find out soon enough who he’s dealing with. Every inch of that house—from the front door to the roof—is ours.”
(Sylvie, quiet)
“And what if he sees through it? I’ve faced villains. I’ve faced monsters.
So have you, Madeleine. And you too, Élodie.
But Fenris…He’s different. Unpredictable. A new kind of threat. One we’ve never faced before.”
(Madeleine)
“Then we do what we’ve always done. Adapt. Survive. Strike back harder. He may be something new— but so are we.
And that hasn’t stopped us before. And Red? She’s more than ready.”
(Élodie, tracing a rune in salt across the table’s surface)
“I’ve warded every threshold, Mother.
If he steps foot inside that house, the forest will know.
With the Sacred Grove’s aid, I’ve conjured incantations—old ones.
They should slow him down long enough for us to strike.”
(Madeleine, calm but firm)
“Do whatever’s needed, Élodie. Every edge we have—use it.”
(Sylvie, nodding)
“Élodie and I will cover the exits. If he runs, he won’t get far.
And my axe? It never misses. Fenris knows that well.”
(Madeleine)
“And if it comes to it, Sylvie—strike him down. Fast. Your way.
By any means necessary.”
Red looks at the three of them. Her voice shakes slightly—but not from fear.
(Red)
“So I’m the bait? Alone in the woods with a basket of goodies and a knife. What if things go really bad and Fenris gains the upper hand—
what’s the backup plan then? I vanish into thin air with my red cape?
Or just cry wolf and hope Goldilocks and the Three Bears kick in the door?”
(Madeleine)
“No, Red. We don’t need Goldilocks, bears—or magic capes.
You’re the blade. The executioner, the final judgment to his downfall.
Show him no mercy—just as he’s shown none to others.
Red, know this. If we didn’t believe you were ready, we never would’ve put you in danger. You’ve been more than ready since you were a little girl. All we needed was the right moment.
Your moment has finally come.”
Silence.
(Élodie)
“Grandmother’s right, Red. You’re not alone in this fight. It takes more than magic and strength to kill a monster. It’s love and trust. Something Fenris never will have. We’re all in this together. Remember—we lure him with the myth.”
(Sylvie)
“And end him with the truth. The sharp truth—like the edge of my axe.
If we can be the spark…maybe it saves the lives of women and girls everywhere.”
They each place their hands atop the rifle. It’s not a weapon now. It’s a ritual object. The storm outside swells.
(Madeleine)
“When the moment comes, Red—don’t hesitate. Remember what we’ve taught you. And what the forest has shown you. You’re ready. You’ll know what to do.”
(Red, after a long breath)
“I won’t hesitate. I’m scared… but I’ve learned from the best. From all of you. Fenris isn’t walking out of that house alive. Not with us standing in it. For the woods. For all women and girls.”
(Red’s Voiceover)
Outside, the wind howled. Inside, the trap was set. And the four of us waited with ancient fire in our bones. The forest never forgot that night.
❦
Fin.
Scott Bryant 
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