Finally, when Rose looked up and their gaze met again, Fenrir felt slight reprieve. Rosy cheeks and misty eyes, still she had a rather sullen look. Despite that, he couldn’t help but find her incredibly cute; a delicate red flower, made all the more appealing by the vast sea of white. It was then she began to speak.

 [i]I think I may have loved him.[/i] The words resonated in his head; words he had feared to hear. He was sure he had seen this man before, the suitor she spoke of, when he had observed her as a wolf. It was not jealously he felt so much as… [i]guilt[/i]. To be forced away from one whom you love, is that not an ill fate? The word she used, [i]think[/i], was the only comfort he could find.

Wobbly, she pushed herself up onto her feet. Fenrir wanted to reach out and help, but did not dare to touch her, fearing another outburst. He still did not know how the girl felt, and he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. She spoke again, and all of it took Fenrir by surprise. Her brash remark of intimacy unexpected; her demands all of things that he felt already went without saying. [i]Heh, she’s still just a kid…[/i] he thought, realizing he could have expected as much. 

After her trembling words, he felt great relief. He thought she had [i]hated[/i] him, yet in the short time between her passionate fit of anger and now, she was [i]considering[/i] him. Suddenly, Rose stumbled toward him, pressing her face to his shoulder. Fenrir was bewildered, surprised again by an unanticipated event. Stunned, his arms hovered over her for a moment, until finally he decided to embrace her. He held her tightly, snowflakes now gently beginning to descend around them.

“Anything…” he said, a late reply to her previous words. In this moment, he felt something he had not truly felt in a long time… he felt [i]happy[/i]. How long he held her, he would never be able to recall, for it seemed timeless. From this incredible joy, a drop of water had formed and rolled down his cheek. [i]Wolves don’t cry,[/i] he heard his old comrade say in the back of his mind. [i]Maybe… maybe I‘m not a beast…[/i] Fenrir thought.

~

Fenrir returned to the small cottage, carrying Rose in his arms. She had passed out back near the lake and he wanted to let her rest. He had wrapped his grey cloak around her, giving another layer to shield her from the cold and the falling snow. So he entered the home, snow affixed on his shoulders and in his hair.

“Is she alright?” Willow asked urgently upon seeing them arrive. Fenrir nodded. Willow quickly moved closer to examine her granddaughter. “Poor thing, she must have wore herself out. Here, I’ll lead you to her bed.” He followed the old woman to the room, and then he would lay Rose down atop her mattress. He left his cloak wrapped around her, making certain not to disturb her. Visually, the mix of grey and red seemed to go together well. The humble grey accentuated the vibrant red, while the red seemed to deliver some life to the grey.

“How did it go?” Willow asked in a hushed voice.

“...Well.” Fenrir replied with a faint smile. Willow seemed surprised, as he too had been.

“Have you decided what you are going to do?” She quietly inquired.

“I’ll stay here for now. It will be good for us to spend time together in a familiar setting, I think. I will give her as much time as she needs before I’m to show her a new home.” A sound consensus, he thought.

“Come, the guest room then. It’s a bit small, especially for you, you might feel…”

“I’ll be fine.” He said confidently, taking one last look at the dormant Rose before following Willow out of the room.